Thomas Wictor

Archive for the ‘Family’ Category

The price of denial

In 2013 neither of my parents would acknowledge the seriousness of their illnesses. For them the price of denial was their lives. Today the Iraqis are seeing what happens when you refuse to face reality and change your ways to accommodate unpleasant truths. Iraqi City of Mosul Falls to Jihadists. BAGHDAD — Islamic militants overran…

 

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Spelunking

I love the word “spelunking.” It’s far more imaginative than the prosaic “caving.” I was a spelunker until 2012. Instead of crawling around in caves, I did it under my house. Never once was it my idea to go under my house, except for today. There were photos that had to be taken. The reason…

 

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An excellent beginning

We all know that the National Security Agency listens to our phone calls. Today was especially hilarious as apparently the entire government domestic espionage apparatus was brought to bear on Tim and me. It was an excellent beginning to the writing of my next novel. As anticipated, this afternoon I received some government documents that…

 

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The price of secrecy

For over a year, I looked for an artifact that I found yesterday. In the process I sorted through thousands of photos. One box came from my Great-aunt Clarinda, sister to my paternal grandmother Angelina. Every photo in the box is unmarked. I have no idea who these people are. The price of secrecy is…

 

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Remembering a protector

Currently I’m doing research for my next novel, constructing a life that never was. Or may have been. Who knows? Part of the novel I’m going to write takes place in Tyler, Texas, where I lived from 1972 to 1975. Even so, everything in the book is false. I made it all up. It’s just…

 

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Dad’s deathmobile

When my nephew Hunter James Gonzales turned three, my father gave him the most dangerous birthday present I’ve ever seen. Dad’s deathmobile was used only once, almost twenty years ago, but I remember it as though it were yesterday. A hot needle would would burn out the memory. Free e-books to anyone who does the…

 

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I’ve been granted permission

Don’t ask me how I know this, but I know it exactly the way I recognized and remembered the Cardinal Ghost when I met her on November 6, 1987. I’ve been granted permission to write my next novel. This is good news, because the subject matter is going to rattle a lot of cages. But…

 

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My next novel

Today I finished the outline for my next novel. All I’m going to say about this book is that it concerns a terrible suspicion. What does a person do when confronted with suspicion? Do you leave well enough alone, or do you look for the truth regardless of the damage it will do to yourself…

 

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All I feel is happiness

When I see that others have what I didn’t, all I feel is happiness for them. Like this scene, for example. Lucky kid and fantastic man. The father is supportive to a superhuman degree, unashamed to show his love, proud, and uncompetitive. None of this “old lion versus young lion” stuff. “You are set for…

 

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Wictors and airplanes don’t mix

I don’t know why, but Wictors and airplanes don’t mix. Chapter Three of Hallucinabulia: the Dream Diary of an Unintended Solitarian is devoted to my experiences with the Old Hag and my nightmares of being in airplane crashes. Dad hated flying as much as I do. It’s my final unconquerable fear. Though I’m not afraid…

 

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