Author: admin
Party Like It’s 2025!

Party Like It’s 2025!

By | | Comments 0 Comment

In this issue:

  1. Tucson Festival of Books
  2. Countdown to Relocating (Again)!

First, FYI: TWO Audiobook Editions of Rogue’s Gallery Coming (Regular & Deluxe)!

——> watch this space, and look for another Sam Travis adventure (#4) soon, too! <——

As you might already know, I recently published my latest (third) heart-pounding Aubrey Greigh Mystery, Rogue’s Gallery this fall in Kindle and paperback editions.

In my last post, I mentioned I was seriously considering something that is not business-as-usual in audiobook production: a “theatrical” edition that will feature not only a stellar narrator performing the script (me!), this edition will also feature tasteful, scene-specific background music, with cinematic sound effects as well.

I see this as an attractive niche to provide a more engaging listener experience. So, I am indeed producing this theatrical audiobook edition as an option for Rogue’s Gallery. I think you’ll love it.

I’ll be looking for a few reviewers to provide feedback in the near future.

So if you’re interested in a FREE edition to listen to and provide a few observations, please contact me at gjurrens@gkjurrens.com. But hurry, and only if you can dedicate the time to listening and reviewing! I will only have a limited number of U.S. & U.K. promo codes!

Yes, I’m still having an absolute blast mixing and producing this. It’s about 75% complete. Won’t be long now, kids!

1. Tucson Festival of Books Report!

If you’re not aware, this is the TFOB:

  • The 2nd largest book festival in the country (in the world, maybe?),
  • Typically >100,000 attendees (free admission) over one weekend,
  • Dozens of ticketed venues (presentations & moderated panels),
  • Millions of dollars raised for the community (non-profit),
  • More than 200 year-round volunteers.

This two-day festival took place this last weekend at the University of Arizona campus in Tucson just 13 miles from where we currently park our home on wheels.

TFOB was particularly special to me this year for several reasons which may be of most interest to you authors or aspiring writers. For example:

  • I’m not sure how many independently published (“indie”) authors wanted to participate in signing and selling books at TFOB (there is always a wait list – I was on it for last year’s festival), but only 200 of us were accepted this year. That’s determined by the amount of space available. The committee still accepted me even after reviewing my bio, two of my recently published mystery manuscripts, the entire list of my 21 published works, website/blog, and the gist of my rather opinionated social media accounts. This process started last July. So, yeah, this is a big deal for me.
  • Of the 200 authors that “got in,” they selected only 13 authors to be “presenting indie authors,” that is, those of us selected to participate in panels across various genres before a ticketed audience.
  • Of those 13 authors, 3 of us were accepted to participate in a panel within the mystery genre.
  • Even though our session was scheduled at the very same time as the inestimable Maureen Dowd, world-famous opinion columnist for the New York Times, we still drew a standing-room-only crowd in a room whose seated capacity was 110.

My insatiable ego needs this sort of periodic nurturing, y’all, and yes, I am still a work in progress.

The perks available to presenting authors also impressed me (great job, indie committee!):

  • On Friday, the day preceding my panel, the committee provided me with a coveted Second Street Garage parking pass, adjacent to the U of A Student Union, the venue for our panel on Saturday. This may not sound like a huge deal, but when “schlepping” maybe a hundred pounds of books, a banner, my point-of-sale terminal, and about a gallon of drinking water in my collapsible canvas wagon around this huge campus, proximity was my friend. And did they ever scrutinize my parking pass before allowing me and the Jeep entry! You’d think I was trying to cross the border into the U.S.!
  • I was to proceed to “Author Hospitality” where my credentials were checked. I offered my birth certificate, but that was unnecessary. I’d meet my panel moderator for the first time and/or my volunteer guide to direct me to our speaking venue, also in the huge student union (close by).
  • Author Hospitality? Very nice, indeed. Complimentary coffee, tea, pastries, boxed lunches (even vegetarian!), a secure place to store my inventory while I explored the festival a bit, or sat on the patio people watching. I texted one of my fellow panelists, also a mystery author: “Look for the olive drab Fedora atop a ghost-white goatee. I’ll be on the patio.” Like we were undercover! Nancy (see below) even knew what a Fedora is (old-fashioned brimmed hat for you youngsters)!
  • I was indeed delighted to meet Nancy Nau Sullivan, one of my fellow panel members. She is a fascinating author of cozy mysteries. I know we will continue to be friends. She uses a publisher, and offered me several valuable tips, both there in Author Hospitality, and later Saturday night at a Happy Hour. Say what, Mr. Recovering Alcoholic and vegetarian? Nancy, we must talk more about your Peace Corps experience in Argentina, Mexico, Viet Nam, and… Ireland? ¡Disfruté mucho pasar tiempo contigo, mi nueva amiga!
  • I also very much enjoyed meeting another indie author from our panel, Chris Jansmann, an extremely articulate author who writes in the first-person narrative with aplomb. After the panel, we discussed its pros/cons versus my third-person narratives. Plus, his rather unique penchants for Olympic swimmer training and model railroads as a basis for his mysteries? Dude, you rock!
  • Yes, this is the very first year of what’s being called the “Re-imagined Indie Author Experience” at TFOB. For the first time ever, select indie authors were invited to present as part of genre-specific panels, and presenting indie authors were invited to a happy hour hosted for all authors, including some hard-core veterans of the industry. I didn’t collect names, just pointers, sentiments, etc. An awesome experience for this little fish in that big pond in the desert! I drank or ate nothing. Too busy mingling, talking, and most of all, listening.
  • Kudos to Hilary Hamlin, Nancy Thompson & Pamela Clarridge, indie author co-chairs for the festival, for being crazy enough to select this uber-opinionated scribe! Hilary & Nancy, I especially enjoyed getting to know both of you this weekend! Also, thanks to Jo Perry, our panel moderator. I had never met a noir author before. Jo, you did not disappoint. I still wanna find out how you know Eric Idle!

Oh, did I mention I was approached by a German publisher who is looking to expand their portfolio into U.S. mysteries? Just in passing, but she took my info. We’ll see.

I am so glad to have participated in this event. Overall, three exhausting but exhilarating days of possibilities!

Author Hospitality!
Not glamorous, but the little wagon got the job done hauling inventory!
My credentials.
Honored to be honored!
Happy Hour on the rooftop patio of Gentle Ben’s

2. Countdown to Relocating (Again)!

We’ve enjoyed our stay in Tucson since the beginning of the year, and we’re not quite done here, yet.

Later this week we move the rig to Tucson Freedom RV (again) for some final pre-road preventative maintenance.

We also plan to see our dear great-niece, Hannah, who now lives here, having relocated from Lakeshore Drive in Chicago.

And I’ll be winding down my Spanish studies as Kay finishes up physical therapy after her shoulder replacement. She’s making great strides on range of motion and recovery pain management.

Then, we start a near-month-long trek northward to Minnesota, stopping in New Mexico, Missouri, and Iowa along the way to visit friends and family.

We don’t dare venture too far north too soon, however, as RV parks “up there” keep their water turned off until the threat of freezing passes. Without water they don’t open. And we like our full hook-ups (power, water, and sewer), “fer sher, dontcha know.”

If you haven’t yet heard, after almost ten years “most-timing” in our beloved bus with her being our only home for the last few years, we’ve lived in some 40+ states for a few weeks to a few months each stay, returning to our favorite haunts. We’re now seriously contemplating “coming off the road.” Yep, that means shopping for stix ‘n brix again, as they say. We’ll be house-shopping once we return to “the Mothership.”

That’s Rochester, MN, our home town. But perhaps as significantly, that’s also the home of the Mayo Clinic, our primary healthcare provider. We now find ourselves increasingly outrunning our healthcare while we’re in perpetual motion.

Plus, let’s be honest, we wish to be closer to family, old friends (after running away for a couple of decades), and I miss a garage, okay? There, I’ve said it!

Kay, however, is like the Energizer Bunny. It seems she could continue scurrying about North America indefinitely. At least that’s her story, and she’s stickin’ to it.

But for now, we’re looking forward to another three weeks here in lovely Tucson.

Now, I really gotta get back to work. Books to be written and edited and formatted and recorded! Plus, covers to design! I think a relaxing retirement lifestyle might “take” any day now (not)!

So, until… and wherever…

Gene

P.S. For those of you who are new to the party, this is our only home (for now):
Oh, No! Oh, Yes!

Oh, No! Oh, Yes!

By |

In this issue:

  1. Dark & Cold?
  2. New Audiobook Edition in Progress
  3. My Appearance at the Tucson Festival of Books

Dark and Cold? What Happened?

Last Monday, doctors at Banner University Medicine in Tucson, Arizona replaced my wife Kay’s right shoulder. On Wednesday night—actually at 2AM on Thursday morning—thankfully, sleep eluded her. She shook me out of a sound slumber. “Gene, we have no power!” Oh, crap. It was thirty-nine degrees outside, and our heat, both electric and diesel, depends on either external resort (“city” or “shore”) power or our motorhome’s battery power.

I scrambled out of bed at the rear of our forty-three-foot bus and headed toward the cockpit to diagnose the problem. Stumbling out of my sleepy stupor, I noticed the panel said “low battery.” Warning lights flashed. So did an instant headache. We were likely less than an hour from draining (and probably ruining) about two-thousand-dollars worth of deep-cycle “house” batteries that power the entire coach.

That’s when I remembered the screw-up that caused this situation.

NEVER

ALLOW

THE FOLLOWING

TO HAPPEN

IF YOU LIVE IN AN RV

(OR ON A BOAT)!

The previous afternoon, I prepared a late lunch. It was chilly outside. Even though we’re in the SW Arizona desert, we’re at almost 3,000 feet of elevation here south of Tucson. So, the temps are only in the forties and fifties during the day here in January, and a lot colder at night.

Our diesel boiler (furnace) provides central heat (and hot water on demand). It is powered either by “shore” power (110VAC) or our house battery bank (12VDC). It was too cold for our two rooftop heat pumps to be effective. They’re powered by either shore power or our diesel generator, but that requires battery power to get started, too (although separate unaffected “chassis” batteries).

We often run an electric space heater, too (also driven by shore power or generator) to ease the burden on the far more costly diesel boiler. Plus, the boiler burns about a liter of diesel per hour during the coldest times, which we use instead of propane for heat.

We were nice and cozy that previous afternoon. I toasted a ciabatta bun in the kitchen’s electric toaster oven. At the same time, I reheated a wonderful vegan pasta dish in the microwave. The power flickered. Oops! I then realized I was operating three very power-hungry 110VAC appliances all at the same time. Dumb! In an RV, anyway.

But after a brief flicker, like a momentary brown-out, all appeared to be okay. I immediately turned off the space heater to finish heating my lunch. I figured our automatic (electrical) load-shedding feature on our electrical management system just did its thing with only a slight hiccup. NOPE! But on we went with our lives.

What really happened? I had blown an obscure breaker, and instead of then providing all the power in the coach (one fridge, two freezers, lights, TV, home theater system, space heater, humidifier, etc.) from resort or shore power, which is normal, all now depended on our bank of house batteries for their power! That’s fine for short durations like a few hours when necessary, when shore power isn’t available, but longer term, like last week? The bus gobbles batteries dry and sends them to the scrap heap!

Our inverter normally translates 12VDC battery power into clean 110VAC household power from either shore power or battery power. Our 110VAC (household) appliances didn’t care where the power was coming from.

It wasn’t until 2AM Thursday, when our batteries had been drawn down to dangerously low levels, did I realize my mistake. So, I trundled outside, shivering in my pajamas and slippers, with my trusty headlamp to locate the breaker on the inverter itself in the “basement” (a storage compartment underneath the motorhome), pushed the emergency breaker to reset it, and everything came back online as it was supposed to.

STUPID! I will plan to hear about my mistake from now to eternity. I deserve it.

I checked the fluid levels in the batteries the following day to ensure I did no permanent damage. They’re okay, but another hour or so of drawing them down into oblivion? That would have made for a very expensive battery replacement fiasco. As soon as I had reset the inverter’s breaker, the battery charging system automatically started pounding a recharge into the four huge depleted house batteries.

Catastrophe averted! Narrowly. Such is “la vita!”

FYI, TWO Audiobook Editions of Rogue’s Gallery Coming

I’m seriously considering something that is not business-as-usual in audiobook production.

From my last newsletter, you’ll recall I’ve just published my latest heart-pounding Aubrey Greigh Mystery, Rogue’s Gallery this summer in Kindle and paperback editions. I’m now narrating its audiobook edition, and hope to publish and distribute it to Audible, Amazon, and Apple by early this summer. But here’s the thing.

What would you think of an “enhanced” or “theatrical” version of this audiobook mystery? I envision offering such an edition separately in addition to the straight narrated version. This enhanced edition would include selected sound effects and music. I think such an edition might offer a more engaging listener experience, and would really appreciate hearing what you think of this idea.

Allow me to illustrate. Below is an audio sample of what I call a “theatrical” edition (do you have a better name for such an offering? I’m all ears!):

Enhanced audiobook track (Chapter One of Rogue’s Gallery):

I really would like to know what you think. Would an extra offering like this enhanced audiobook edition be of interest to you? To other audiobook aficionados, do you think?

Besides, I’m having an absolute blast producing this!

Personal Appearance at TFOB (Tucson Festival of Books)

If you’re not aware, the TFOB comprises:

  • The 3rd or 4th largest book festival in the country (in the world, maybe?),
  • Typically >100,000 attendees (free admission) over one weekend,
  • Dozens of ticketed venues (presentations & moderated panels),
  • Millions of dollars raised for the community (non-profit),
  • More than 200 year-round volunteers.

This two-day festival takes place in the middle of March each year and sprawls across the University of Arizona campus in Tucson. This year, I am honored to have been invited to speak as part of a moderated three-member panel of mystery authors on Saturday, March 15th.

So, if you’re in the ‘hood, you’re invited. Tickets are free, but advanced reserved tickets are advised and are available one week prior. See the festival website for more and schedule info HERE.

On the next day, Sunday the sixteenth, I’ll be participating in the festival’s “Indie Pavilion,” that is, a meet and greet of independently published authors, where I’ll be selling and signing my sixteen published books for all you mystery fans and aspiring writers. This will be fun.

I’m not sure how much I’ll be speaking during the moderated panel, so I thought I’d use this forum to try out a few talking points. Care to weigh in on which ones you think I ought to prioritize?

My front line comments: “I love writing mysteries that are entertaining, authentic, and socially relevant. My mysteries are inspired by events that have occurred to me during my life. And I’ve been blessed with a pretty darn interesting one. Yes, this is most certainly driven by my passion for the allure of the obscure. I like to think I offer something in the pages of my books that readers are not likely to have personally encountered, like I have, nor maybe not have encountered in other mysteries.”

I plan to ask for a show of hands, and I ask you now:

  • How many of you grew up on the wrong side of the tracks and yet worked near the top of a hundred-billion-dollar multinational tech corporation for a time whose boss got indicted for insider trading?
  • How many of you have had your life threatened and were stalked for months after reluctantly firing 422 of your 1,013 employees? I’m not a fan of firearms, but I borrowed a loaded shotgun from a neighbor that I kept at my bedside that summer. We moved out of state, just in case. After that, I retired at age fifty-eight after thirty-two years with a full pension. I was not the guy I had become.
  • How many of you have relatives and close friends who have been members of the US intelligence community, including one high-level executive at the NSA and another who was an “air pirate” who flew “farm equipment” (wink) and “support personnel” (still winking) into third-world countries most of us have never heard of?
  • How many of you have owned a live-aboard sailboat that once was used as a safe house for Soviet defectors during the cold war, one of whom was married on its foredeck in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor?
  • How many of you have strolled the infamous Tokyo fish market in a $600 camel-hair overcoat at 4AM and helped a little fish monger pick up a spilled wheelbarrow of live eels after bumping into him and causing the spill? That coat was never the same!
  • How many of you lived on a boat in the Florida Keys and Eastern Caribbean for years and faithfully listened to the piracy report every morning at 0700 hours on marine radio channel 69, so you knew where not to go next, or only with a buddy boat, for safety?
  • How many of you lived in San Francisco’s Hashbury district in 1969 as a rebel without a clue counseling draftees during the Tet offensive in the Viet Nam war when a thousand kids my age were getting killed each week? That’s when I got my draft notice, by the way, and enlisted in the US Coast Guard.
  • How many of you have had thirteen motorcycle accidents before age 18 and experienced relocating a house’s porch with a big-ass Buick, destroying an entire alley, and running that same car into a tree at 50 MPH in a drug-addled state? Unforgettable… I’m told.  
  • How many of you have almost died in the bowels of a shipwreck at a depth of 120 feet of seawater seven miles off Key West when your SCUBA equipment got entangled in overhead wreckage in a tight passageway?
  • How many of you have experienced a free-fall skydive from 14,500 feet and seen the majestic curvature of the earth splayed out below you?
  • How many of you have traveled in a forty-three foot bus for ten years, living in forty-plus states for a few weeks to a few months at a time?
  • How many of you have smoked a joint with an awkward teenage Bill Cosby long before he became famous (then, infamous), and long before I became a respectable, high-functioning career alcoholic? I’ve now been sober for thirteen years.

This is just a sampling of life experiences that inspire me to write quirky mysteries with flawed characters who entertain you with believable situations that baffle, mystify, or make you laugh or cry. And you’ll wonder, “what if that were me?” I’d love to share at least a few of these anecdotes during my panel discussion, but at least I got to share them all with YOU.

One other important pearl of wisdom I’d share with you? NEVER try to out-drink your Japanese translator starting on the Shinkansen (bullet train) between Tokyo and Hamamatsu and later at the hotel, especially if you’re swilling down ninety-eight-degree (cheap) Saki. You will lose if you are “gaijin” (non-Japanese). No mystery, there.

I am growing excited to meet some new mystery fans at TFOB, and maybe also sell and sign a few books! This festival is one of the reasons we’re in Tucson this winter!

So, until later, and wherever…

Gene

Yes, this photo of ‘yours truly’ is more than a few years old. I’m performing a Native American style flute of my own making–one of my first (and best). But I thought this image befit the background theme of my latest mystery novel: ex-carnival entertainers who, despite their checkered past, like me, have a second chance in life. What they do with it, like the recovering alcoholic in this image, is for you to discover within the pages of this classic locked-room mystery with more than a few weird twists. Enjoy Rogue’s Gallery: Beyond All Reason!

The Salton Sea

The Salton Sea

By |

Read about the weirdest place I’ve visited in nine years of RV travel.

The Salton Sea is the site of one of America’s worst environmental catastrophes.

But there’s good news, too.

An underground (unpublicized, before or after) group of “conspirators” gather to explore their creative and intellectual freedoms. This annual celebration of life lasts months and features a renegade celebration of art, music, and philosophy that takes place on the literal edge of western civilization to amplify the largely unknown and ignored ecological crisis that is the Salton Sea. They call it the Bombay Beach Biennale, or BBB.

I covered a lot of ground in a single morning and half an afternoon. About two hundred miles with a lot of stops, mostly photo ops.

I spent a day circumnavigating the Salton Sea in Central Southern California. Last Wednesday served as a suitable capstone to what is likely our last major exploratory trip. We’ve enjoyed nine years of “most-time” RVing and full time for the last couple of years after selling our condo in Southwest Florida.

We’ve seen so much splendor across our great nation. It was time for me to experience something… different. And, y’all, did I ever get my wish granted! Keep reading about my experience in a unique and bizarre place that wears its hardships on its philosophical shirt sleeves (sorry about the cliché)!

So, why did we park our RV in a town a hundred miles east of San Diego this week? Because I envisioned visiting the site of one of America’s worst environmental catastrophes. I’d read that almost nobody comes here anymore. That it hinted of what a dystopian post-apocalyptic landscape will look like if we continue to fail as our beloved planet’s steward.

It hinted of our future as a species—a grim future. I had to see it for myself. 

Rio Bend RV Resort west of El Centro, California offered us a pleasant experience for three days while I ventured off to explore the Salton Sea area.
I would soon discover how dramatically different the Salton Sea shoreline was from this delightful little desert oasis.

With 115 miles of shoreline, the Salton Sea was once a popular waterfront playground destination in the 1950s for throngs of tourists, movie stars, and politicians. Its genesis was an accident of nature. Its fate would be defined by gross mismanagement of natural resources.

A levy on the Colorado River broke in 1905 under the onslaught of floodwaters. That filled this below-sea-level basin (the “Salton Sink”) that lies on the San Andreas Fault within the Salton Trough between four different mountain ranges.

It took several years to repair that collapsed levy—to redirect the precious water to other more affluent areas in Southern California and Arizona. Of course, water is liquid gold in these parts. And this is an impoverished area. The water followed the money, away from those unable to pay dearly for it. 

But by then, this large lake, a “sea” was the real deal at fifteen miles wide and thirty-five miles long—but shrinking over subsequent decades. With no inlets or outlets, this landlocked sea stagnated. Desert conditions caused it to recede from evaporation. This has caused a toxic chain reaction of catastrophic events in the entire area. And it’s been getting worse every year. 

Kay had booked an RV site for us in a town called Thermal, north of this salty and dead sea. They advised we bring our own water as high levels of arsenic plagued their water supply.

Aresenic? The frickin’ poison? Yep. Instead, we booked a site west of El Centro, about 25 miles south of “the sea.” They still advise caution. We’re using our own tank water as a precaution. 

I allocated just one day to venture around a significant geographical area, so I only experienced a fraction of what the Salton Sea area offers. That exposure, however brief, left an indelible impression.

So, I drove our Jeep from El Centro, southwest of the sea, north along its western shore, and stopped at Salton City, population ~5,000. I found it to be a rather unremarkable small town to which the sea had distanced itself over time. The ancient sign below, at least seventy-five years old, pointed the way to the Salton City Beach. Or so I thought.

I’m guessing this mobile home near Salton City Beach (but no longer anywhere near any water), augmented with a deluxe covered patio, could be purchased for any reasonable offer. May need some T.L.C.

I meandered westward down crappy roads covered by windswept powdery sand, but couldn’t even get within a half mile of any water. So, I snapped a few pictures and headed farther north. 

I continued on up through the city of Coachella and had lunch in Indio. I found Indio to be a lovely city southeast of the affluent Palm Springs area, but still less than twenty miles from the north shore of the sea. I asked my server about it. She said, “No idea. Nobody ever goes down there. It’s nothing.” She was wrong, as I’d find out when I drove down the eastern shore of the sea. Just… wow! 

Bombay Beach, California, is the lowest (elevation) community in the United States. First, the statistics. It’s at 223 feet below sea level. I believe the only place lower is Death Valley at minus 280-ish feet. The population of “Bombay” is declining—from 231 at the 2020 census, down from 295 in 2010, down from 366 in 2000.

This place is eery, although the temps were in the pleasant mid-seventies. The locals don’t use the word “Beach” as part of the town’s name anymore. Either it’s too anti-climactic or serves only as high-camp humor for the cynics, as reflected in some of their beach art. More on this later. 

They named the only bar, the most active place I saw, when the town was a famous water ski destination back in the 1950s (“Ski Inn”). Now, though, they just call it “the Skinn.”

A handful of locals hunched over the bar inside had no interest whatsoever in talking with outsiders (like yours truly). Message received.

Apparently, numerous artists (painters, sculptors, multimedia…) and participants gather and stay in town for several months each year while they collaborate on art and events, culminating in an invitation-only celebratory weekend.

That includes a world-class philosophy conference with major scholars from universities such as Oxford, Harvard and more.

Activists, artists, writers, and independent researchers also present topics related to the festival’s theme. Who knew? Is that not so… Californian?

Some of the art seen everywhere around town on any surface, especially down on the beach, seems rather “on the nose” philosophically. Bear with me for a moment. I gotta get this out.

Much of the art I explored by driving my Jeep around the beach (some of it is rather large scale) seemed to represent one of two different schools of philosophical thought.

First, some artists offered existential expressions. Some were obvious in portraying this philosophical theory that emphasizes the existence of the individual as a unique agent with free will and responsibility for his or her own acts. Though such an individual lives in a universe devoid of any certain knowledge of right and wrong.

Or even nihilism, which is defined as the relentless negativity or cynicism, suggesting an absence of values or beliefs.

Yeah, this place is really “out there.” Fascinating, and unique in all the world! These heady concepts seemed all too appropriate in this incredibly hostile local environment. I possessed the sensation of skulking around in the mind of Albert Camus, author and philosopher (see link below if interested in exploring existentialism or absurdism – sorry, I’m kind of a philosophy geek)!

Every structure in Bombay looks to be fair game for conventional or surreal art.
Is this grafitti, art, or a satirical political statement on this once luxury vehicle? Eye of the beholder.

And these “artists” aren’t gonna help us figure this out. Quite the opposite of self-serving narcissism – they not only don’t seek credit, they seem to revel in keeping us tourists guessing. Refreshing. I love it! Even the neighborhood behind this car is part of the artist’s “canvas.”
This “composition” covers the better part of a small-town block. The sign serves as its title, “Bombay Beach Drive-In” (theater).

There is no movie screen (implying nothing worth watching?). It’s as if all the people escaped the barbed wire perimeter, but left their useless possessions behind, the carcasses of a couple dozen cars. My interpretation, but again, consistent with the BBB’s theme.

I noticed numerous buildings in the area, and mobile canvases as you see above (truck trailer) covered with an art form that, to my uninformed eye, bridges the gap between murals and graffiti.

I tried chatting with a few locals at the only bar in town. But I guess they’re tired of explaining to tourists what perversion attracts them to this bizarre community. After all, it perches on the edge of a huge toxic body of water that emits poisonous vapors and swirling clouds of lethal dust. I’ve never felt more like an outsider!

I’m told the somewhat unpleasant smell on the shore results from high levels of hydrogen sulfide overpowering the lake’s low levels of oxygen.

To make matters worse, the surrounding area (Imperial County to the south) faces clouds of dust billowing away from the dried-up portions of the lakebed. Not so bad until you realize that fine dust contains toxins such as arsenic and selenium. They say the effects have been disastrous for locals. I get it. After just one day there, I can only imagine (as I continued to cough for two days after leaving).

In hiking along the seashore, I found two contrasting textures underfoot. One was rough, and I’m told they’re countless petrified fish carcasses. The other texture comprised sand so fine and smooth that it puffed up like powder around my shoes as I walked. Thankfully, it was not windy on Wednesday.  Not sure if I breathed something in that irritated my lungs (arsenic? selenium?). God, I sound like a wimp. Just reporting my experience, kids. 

I guess you really gotta wanna live here. Oh, and down by the shore? Dense hoards of tiny flying bugs assaulted me. Their only apparent purpose? Keep the tourist population down to a manageable level? Dunno. They died as soon as they found their prey,  landing either on the hood of the Jeep, in my hair, or in my beard. Thankfully, they weren’t the biting kind. Had to get the car washed today to scrub off their futile but persistent little carcasses. 

Yup, the vibe here is one of neglect, but intense intellectual curiosity.
Looked like a few boys were setting up for some sort of event. They were up on a roof, so I didn’t try to talk with them (most unlike me!). Oh, and they didn’t want to be photographed. Hmmm..

Now for some really fun stuff. And it was AWESOME. I drove the Jeep up over the dike that stands between the town and the sea. I don’t think its purpose is to keep water out as the sea is receding… a lot. But maybe it’s a measure of protecting the town (what’s left of it) from the toxic dust clouds, maybe the odor and bugs, too. Not really sure. 

I saw a sign for an “art tour,” but I preferred to strike out on my own. There was nobody around, anyway. Art was all over in various media, so I just drove around, stopping frequently to take pictures. I poked around town, and down on the beach. Other than a handful at the bar, I only saw one obvious local who didn’t want to have anything to do with me. Okay, then.

A dike (levy? berm?) separated the town from the sea. There were steps here and other places to drive up and over to the mile-long beach.

Though there were no locals out and about, I saw a handful of tourists like me—less than ten in three other vehicles. That’s it. I thought, “What do the locals know that we stupid tourists don’t?” Like what I learned AFTER visiting that charming little burg’s erstwhile beachfront?

No, this isn’t a working lemonade stand. It is an artistic display on a dune overlooking the beach. It is a signpost for positive thinking during the darkest of times, and apparently getting darker..
Huh? The smaller sign to the right says, “the last car parked here is still missing.”
Bombay is not a small beach! Makes my Jeep Grand Cherokee look small, doesn’t it? Part of it was hard-packed although lumpy (petrified fish carcasses?), and part of it was powdery sand and windblown smooth. But down here on the beach? That’s where a collection of unique art pieces perches on the precarious shore of this noxious sea.
How nihilistic is this piece? One of the more iconic displays on this beach.
This piece is called “Open House.”
I found this small label on a larger display – an old newspaper dispensing machine, the kind we used to see on every street corner (see below).

On the outside was this sticker with a much larger signboard emblazoned with just two words: “FREE” on the front, and “FACTs” on the side. Thinking it was an antiquated version of FAQs, I pulled the handle to open the box. Inside? Empty? Too “on the nose?” Dunno. I’m just a dumb tourist.

It looked to me like this “artwork” was at least forty years old.

Ahead of its time? Not for me to say. Like I said, just a tourist.
Above is the FREE FACTs dispenser, humbly sinking into the sand at the base of an elevated aircraft sculpture constructed of 1960s car parts. Probably some meaning to that, too. If so, it escaped me.
Okaaaaay, so what the hell is IID? Infinite Improbability Drive (for you Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy fans)? Maybe.

My favorite guess after researching IID? This artist is trying to blame (ever so bluntly) the area’s maladies on the Imperial Irrigation District (homage to the politicians who so mismanaged this environmental disaster over time by re-routing the area’s fresh water to those with the cash-ola to pay for it. That fits with the spirit of BBB held annually here in Imperial County. And I suspect the word “Imperial” was intended to have two meanings. I think I broke the code!
The sign says, “Drought Resistant Landscape.” Yeah, all dead.
I think this hints at the insanity of unrealistic expectations. The human species, nevertheless, always seeks a greater level of happiness, of satisfaction. You guessed it – no water in that faucet. Fake news? No happy ending? Like I said, this whole place feels so dystopian (dire; grim).
Uniquely Salton Sea! As the water, shore, and air above it continuously devolve into a toxic waste dump for pesticide and fertilizer runoff from the surrounding fields (thousands of overdeveloped acres), the ocean will remain?

Perhaps that resource—the ocean a hundred miles away—is the only thing man’s screw-ups cannot completely annihilate? Definitely a political statement, but did I get it right? No idea. I’m not invited to the BBB, you see, nor am I willing to subject myself to, or seek out, their entrance requirements (see link below).
I strolled through the marina, including where the water is supposed to be. Paddle boats and canoeing were once popular activities in the 1950s and ’60s here. Fabulous shoreside resorts have long-since come and gone.

This is obviously staged, and has been for many years. I’m guessing this is some sort of nihilistic statement, lamenting joyful activities gone awry as the environment failed us arrogant humans, or something like that (for the record, that is NOT my philosophy!). I felt so weird walking through and around it. Actual water = fifty yards away, and receding more every year as this small sea continues to evaporate. But there WAS water here in my lifetime. I envisioned I was some distant future archaeologist strolling around in my own distant past. Weird, right?

The red circles are at least two tiny gnat-like flying bugs that found my tiny iPhone lens before expiring. They swirled all around me everywhere on the beach, but not in town (on the far side of the dike).
I got nothin’. Though, it did remind me of one of the Planet of the Apes movies, though. Maybe yet another meaningless artifact of foolish humanity that surely meant something at one time (yeah, I’m really getting into this “role” that I’m playing!).

Although it probably wasn’t necessary, I was glad to have the 4-wheel-drive-low feature of the Jeep as I drove down on to that huge beach that alternated between powdered sugar and clumpy petrified fish carcasses.

I saw another car and a van down there, too. But I ventured farther than that smattering of other tourists. I don’t know how many sculptures and standalone creative displays are down there, but I’d guess dozens, all spread out. These pictures are the only way to even try to convey this experience. 

Check out the rough and hard and lumpy texture of the beach as I got closer to the current shoreline. Petrified fish carcasses? Not sure, just damn hard on the ankles.

I thought that was a real bird out there. The damn thing never moved. Because it is a small steel sculpture. I didn’t see any wildlife. At all. The water looked… syrupy.

After spending a few hours in Bombay, I drove down the rest of the eastern shore and back to our campground west of El Centro (Seeley) to the lovely Rio Bend RV Resort. A stark contrast. Quite the day, kids!

I got what I needed, a first-hand experience of what felt like a dystopian post-apocalyptic landscape, a unique experience visiting an area very much off the beaten path. Nothing in my seventy-five years of life compared. But… once was enough. 

For those of you who have been there, I trust you can relate to this report. If you’ve been there, but not for many years, the area continues to devolve, I’m told. I found it both sad and heartening. The creative philosophical types that spend a lot of time there, either full or part time (I think I missed the seasonal party), gives me hope that no matter how bad things get, we as a species find a way to convert lemons into lemonade.

Links to further info on the Salton Sea:

So, wherever and whenever,

Gene

I think I’m standing in front of a work in progress. It’s so hard to tell here!
A New Mystery to Solve!

A New Mystery to Solve!

By |

Is this your next read?

Good news for Aubrey Greigh Mystery fans:

Rogue’s Gallery—is now available!

By the way, authors live and die by reviews. So, if you read any of my books, please consider leaving a line or three of what you thought, and don’t forget to give it a star rating (preferably 5 stars!).

I’m celebrating! This is my third book this year. I should say “our” third book. I wrote two of those books (Sam Travis Adventures) with my writing partner, Tom Kasprzak. Plus, you can get Lethal Game as an audiobook (more to come). Still, three books in one year is a personal best. What’s amazing is that they just get better and better (so my pre-publication readers tell me).

Below, I offer you a sample of Rogue’s Gallery: Beyond All Reason. This scene takes place more than a few years in the future in a high-security apartment inside Chicago’s near southwest loop—the scene of a heinous murder:

Detective Chance McQuillan—Q—once more questioned the wisdom of asking her captain for the lead in this case. Was it because of her pathological hatred of anything that smelled like that fake paranormal shit? When she was twelve, a carnival fortune teller scared her so badly, she still remembered that awful feeling. She was an emotional dumpster fire back then looking for… well, she had no idea what she was looking for. Who does, at that age? But that… gypsy, that… man! It was like he made love to his beliefs and tried his damned level-best to seduce her to do so, too. That total creep show had stained her. Forever. And her own bastard of a father dismissed it all. Q hated gypsies and carnies, and knew that to be irrational. That’s where she thought all paranormal shit came from. Only when they’re around. And now this bullshit. It was all crap, anyway.

* * *

Halfway through his second shift the night before, Jerry Hannafin had received an S.O.S. signal from Ms. Schift in 2613. Mac, Q’s partner, kept his mouth shut. She now grilled this oaf at Wolf Point East’s combination front desk and security station. This rent-a-cop desk clerk seemed nice enough, even capable. But he showed obvious signs of discomfort around real cops. Not too surprising. She stared at the summary of this hump’s record on her WristPad. Nothing major. Still, it surprised her they even let this guy carry a weapon. But Wolf Point’s ‘brand’ was security and discretion. They talked as he led the way to the scene on twenty-six.

“All I got, detective. I got the automated call at 10:16 PM. When Ms. Schift mashes that button on her remote, her system also calls you guys. I got up there fast as I could. Pounded and pounded on her door, see. But she don’t answer. And my master electronic key don’t work, either. I get real worried. Then I get a call from Mr. Leibowitz in 2720. Says he heard what sounded like a gunshot. Now, I’m real worried. So I calls the fire department thinkin’… well, I dunno. Ain’t no kickin’ down that door.” He nodded off to his left. 

Q looked him up and down as they stood in the wide hallway outside of Jolina Schift’s apartment. The door was now damaged beyond repair. “Mr. Hannafin, is it unusual for you not to have master key access to apartments in the building?” They entered the apartment as they talked.

“Supposed to work. It’s in the H.O.A. bylaws, see. For situations just like this, ya know? Ms. Schift, she was a real piece a work. Din’t trust nobody. Who’s got three honest-ta-God deadbolts? And the C.F.D. guys find this.” He nodded toward blood pools, spray, and spatters extending from one side of the kitchen to the other, ending with the outline of a corpse near a black luncheon bar. The M.E. had long-since removed the body. A bright yellow numbered card labeled ‘bloody weapon: knife’ lay near the white outline. Jerry muttered, “Hey, I’m not in trouble here, am I?”

Q sauntered from room to room. Stopped in the master bedroom and Mac followed. Tapped her on the shoulder while reading the crime scene report, and pointed at the twelve-foot ceiling. Neither Mac nor Q had spotted a single bullet hole at the joint between the ceiling and fancy crown molding. But the Crime Scene Mapper—the C.S.M. device—had spotted it. 

“Does she ever have visitors?”

Jerry said, “Hey, dunno, ‘kay? We monitor the lobby and the desk. Nobody what don’t have no pass key gets in. And nobody gets by me what I don’t recognize ‘em, see? They come to visit somebody in the building, I call up and get the high sign or send ‘em packin’, ‘kay? Nobody ever come to see Ms. Schift. At least so’s I know. Not on my shifts, anyways. And I’m here six nights a week.”

“You got a record, Jerry?”

“Look, I din’t do nothin’ wrong here. Are we done?”

“Yes, sir. For now. We appreciate your time.”

* * *

Mac continued to study the crime scene team’s analysis on his WristPad with Q looking on. He scratched his head and said, “The report says no prints or D.N.A. other than the victim’s. No echoes of any other presence detected by the C.S.M. for the six hours prior, either. But from footprint trace energy, it appeared she first went from room to room. Like she was searching. And then she scrambled on her hands and knees from the bedroom to the kitchen after firing a single shot, but she left her pistol in the bedroom. The bloody knife near the body?” He nodded toward the empty slot in the knife block on the counter. “Looks like she grabbed a big-ass knife, from the width of the slot it came from, and defended herself. Then, she cuts out her own tongue with that same knife? What the fuck, Q?” 

That was the C.S.M. device’s analysis during the six-hour window preceding the time the crime scene team deployed their machine. Its sensors picked up and recorded any presence or motion anywhere in or around the scene, including D.N.A., fingerprints and footprint motion tracers with timestamps. The C.S.M.’s technology still baffled Q, but it was reliable. She said, “And the report also pinpoints time of death at 10:30 PM, plus or minus five. So Ms. Schift was the only person in her entire apartment during that time. Fires a shot in desperation at her bedroom ceiling, apparently at some invisible presence before fleeing to the kitchen?”

Mac squinted his eyes and looked at Q slantwise while they strolled through the sumptuous living room. He expected to get his nose tweaked for his next words. “At least she was the only human presence in this well-fortified kill box.”

“Oh, not you too, Mac.” She hated that kind of trash talk. Brought back those ugly childhood memories. 

“Hey, just sayin’. What now?” She smirked. He muttered, “A seance?” He ducked away from her. Didn’t want to get slugged. 

Q snorted. “Yeah, let’s go report that plan to the captain. Guess we call this a suicide, time being, ’til we get some more evidence. Gotta be about the evidence.”

“I don’t believe she didn’t have help, either, Q. For now, the answer is beyond any reasonable explanation we got in hand.”

“We’re done here. You know the drill, Mac: background, known associates, personal habits, vices, enemies…. Head back to the nine-nine and dig in. Gotta be something. Let’s start by connecting the Rune case to this one. Too frickin’ similar to be a any kind of coincidence. Suicide victims cutting out their own tongues is odd enough. But when two do that within three days of each other? And with no rational explanation?”

Mac registered a surprised expression. “Where are you headed?”

“I need to run an errand.” Q was conflicted. One person who had researched and debunked at least some of this paranormal shit was the eccentric man she shared a bed with. Another perplexing case almost eight years ago involved voodoo, and Greigh’s research was fundamental in solving that case. Smelled a lot like this one. Now, as much as she hated to admit it, she shared Mac’s frustration. They were no closer to solving this mystery than before this second body had dropped. Yeah, she’d ask Greigh’s opinion on this clusterfuck. Her husband always had an opinion. He called them theories or hypotheses. Opinions. Plus, she worried about her objectivity anywhere near this paranormal crap. But first, she’d talked to an old friend who had also helped out on that damn voodoo case.

Check out Rogue’s Gallery: Beyond All Reason, especially if you’re already an Aubrey Greigh and Chance McQuillan fan!

So, until later, and wherever…

Gene

Yes, this photo of yours truly is more than a few years old. I’m performing a flute of my own making–one of my first (and best). But I thought this image befit the background theme of this new book: ex-carnival entertainers who, despite their checkered past, have a second chance in life. What they do with it, like the recovering alcoholic in this image, is for you to discover within the pages of this classic locked-room mystery with more than a few weird twists. Enjoy Rogue’s Gallery: Beyond All Reason!
Hurry! New Novel AND a Free Audiobook?

Hurry! New Novel AND a Free Audiobook?

By |

THE THIRD AND MOST EXCITING SAM TRAVIS ADVENTURE YET IS HERE!

PRE-ORDER NOW FOR AUTO-DELIVERY THIS SUNDAY.

WHY BUY HERE NOW ?

  • 25% PRICE DISCOUNT (Kindle edition)
  • DELIVERED INSTANTLY (to all your devices) on Sunday
  • CHANCE TO WIN A FREE AUDIOBOOK (of Lethal Game):
    • Just send your pre-order receipt email to gjurrens@yahoo.com before Sunday, September 15
    • Your odds of winning are VERY GOOD!

Order Yours Now. HERE

Just Three Bucks!

(for a limited time)

Why not pre-order right now for your next read in three days, but also to enter a high-probability drawing for a free audiobook, a $15 value. Just click HERE NOW!

Thanks in advance!

Gene & Tom

Representing authors GK Jurrens
& Tom Kasprzak
The Time to Get Lethal Is NOW!

The Time to Get Lethal Is NOW!

By |

THE THIRD AND MOST EXCITING SAM TRAVIS ADVENTURE YET IS HERE!

PRE-ORDER NOW FOR AUTO-DELIVERY SEPTEMBER 15TH.

WHY BUY HERE NOW ?

  • 25% PRICE DISCOUNT (Kindle edition)
  • DELIVERED INSTANTLY (to all your devices)
  • CHANCE TO WIN A FREE AUDIOBOOK (of Lethal Game):
    • Just send your pre-order receipt email to gjurrens@yahoo.com
    • Your odds of winning are VERY GOOD!

Order Yours Now. HERE

Just Three Bucks!

(for a limited time)

That’s it, y’all! Let Tom and me know what you thought, okay? And score your deal TODAY, including a chance to win the audiobook edition of Lethal Game, the book that launched the Sam Travis’ Adventures (a $14.95 value). Order your copy of Lethal Bounty NOW!

Thanks in advance!

Gene & Tom

Representing author GK Jurrens
An Enchanting Summer!

An Enchanting Summer!

By | 
Current Location: Sequim, Washington

Kay and I have thrown ourselves into one adventure after another this summer.

We’ve accumulated a TON of great memories (and photos and experiences) to show for it!

Here’s some scroll bait for y’all.

In this lifestyle issue:

  1. New Sam Travis Adventure Released
  2. More Sam Travis Adventures Coming!
  3. Another Aubrey Greigh Mystery Coming, Too
  4. Experiencing the West Coast in Full Measure
  5. Tucson Festival of Books (TFOB)?
  6. Saying Goodbye to a Dear Friend

1. New Sam Travis Adventure Released

Lieutenant Tom Kasprzak (retired)—my writing partner—and I released our latest Sam Travis Adventure in July, as promised. Like Lethal Game and all our Sam Travis Adventures, Lethal Trail is based on a true story.

Here’s what early readers are saying about this exciting story from one Tom’s (LT’s) many cases during his law enforcement career:

  • “I absolutely loved Lethal Trail! I loved it all.”
  • Just finished Lethal Trail.  It is a great read!”  
  • “The characters are nicely developed, especially the antagonists.  I really loathe them.”
  • “I truly enjoyed the side story about the black bear in the tree and its relocation.”

And if you haven’t checked out Book One of our Sam Travis series, click HERE.

By the way, if you haven’t yet been introduced to my friend, Tom, a.k.a. LT, he retired from the Massachusetts State Environmental Police Force after a storied thirty-two-year career. He operated from the beautiful Berkshire Mountains in Western Massachusetts to Boston in the east.

LT worked or supervised undercover operations for nine years, was embedded with international game poachers who were killing wildlife en masse, led teams on marine law enforcement, trained in counterterrorism with the US Coast Guard (District 1, Boston), and is a decorated sharpshooter (Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, Glynco, Georgia, where he trained extensively with federal agents from multiple agencies). National Geographic even broadcast a TV documentary in 1991 about LT and his crew, and how they took down a major illegal international wildlife poaching operation: “Wildlife Wars USA: Black Bears Under Siege,” narrated by Peter Coyote.

All of our Sam Travis stories are based on LT’s actual cases, and are about as authentic crime fiction as you’ll find anywhere—plausible and engaging, even to other law enforcement professionals. We’ve also published Lethal Game as an audiobook in addition to its ebook and paperback editions. We’re planning audiobook editions for all the Sam Travis adventures eventually.

No matter your favored genre, you’re sure to enjoy the hell out of these fast-paced stories populated with an imperfect but passionate cast of quirky characters!

2. More Adventures!

So, what’s next for Sam Travis fans? Next month on September 15th we’ll release Lethal Bounty, Sam’s most exciting adventure yet. You won’t believe this page turner is based on another of LT’s actual cases from his time as an EPO (Environmental Police Officer) in Massachusetts and elsewhere.

This hair-raising story’s ebook (“Kindle edition”) will be available for pre-order by August 23rd (the Great Pumpkin willing – yeah, that’s a metaphor, kids). That means you’ll be able to order Lethal Bounty on 8/23, take advantage of an introductory pricing offer, and it will automatically be delivered to all your smart devices automatically on 9/15. Cool, huh?

Is that it? Nope.

We hope to make the fourth Sam Travis Adventure available early next year. Below is an early draft of artwork for the book’s cover. What do you think? Is it… catchy?

3. Another Aubrey Greigh Mystery Coming Too!

In even more book news, if you follow my antics, you know I’ve published two books in my Aubrey Greigh Mystery series: Voodoo Vendetta and Dancing With Death. I’ll be targeting the release of my third Aubrey Greigh Mystery later this Winter. Right now, I’m entitling it, Rogue’s Gallery – Beyond Evidence.

Few of the characters in this tale are who or what they seem, and most are, well, less than respectable. The title seemed fitting. Take a look at the story’s premise (story concept):

***

Aubrey Greigh, a best-selling mystery author, and ambitious Chicago detective, Chance McQuillan partner with a pair of Romani parapsychologists to solve two baffling high-profile homicides. This cryptic case could turn the credibility of politics in America’s largest city on its ear. But solving this case could help Interpol solve a series of longstanding international crimes.

Are our professional and amateur investigators equipped to filter flimsy facts from rampant fantasy to stop the wild speculation and seemingly senseless killing? The mayor of America’s largest city hopes so. Or does he? Is anything what it seems? 

Relish the tortuous twists and turns in this classic locked-room whodunnit with… what?  Utterly mysterious circumstances and a conspiracy that spans two continents? Maybe even paranormal possibilities? You’ll keep guessing until your final turn to the last page. 

***

I favor creating different versions of a book’s cover and soliciting feedback while writing the manuscript. It inspires me. Most authors wait until at least the final draft is complete. Not me. I offer you a peek at the latest iteration of my cover graphics, and like always, I’m open to suggestions. Seriously. Do you like it (the back cover text is still under revision)? What do you think of the title? Please do let me know at gjurrens@yahoo.com:

Enough of this book stuff, eh?

4. Experiencing the US West Coast in 2024

Oh, my gosh, where do I start! This summer has been the polar opposite of sensory deprivation. We have been sensory gluttons! I offer you a sampling of our summer since leaving Tucson April 30th in our grand old bus:

Das bus nestled in Sequim, Washington (Gilgal RV Oasis). Roosters at the farm across the road crow non-stop, a source of constant amusement!
  • Quartzsite, Arizona – just to veg out for a spell and to continue my focus on watercolor painting and drawing in my “spare time.” Retirement is exhausting, my friends!
  • Sequoia National Forest in central California’s San Joaquin Valley (Visalia)
  • San Francisco Bay Area (Petaluma) for almost a month where we took an extended double-decker bus tour of the city, went to see the Carnivale parade and celebration of Central & South American culture in the Mission district, along with an amazing rolling car show. We sailed around the bay ,under the Golden Gate Bridge and around Alcatraz island aboard a 65′ sailing catamaran. Kay and I took a sporty helicopter ride over the Sonoma wine country and their Pacific seaside cliffs. We enjoyed countless day trips in the car along the Pacific Coast Highway (1). Visited Sausalito across the bay where we explored a hydrodynamic model of the entire Bay Area (US Army Corps of Engineers), found a fascinating restaurant (fusion of Marin County and Indian vegan cuisine they call Marindian cuisine confusion – very urban Californian!) and a few high-end art galleries—constrained budget and limited wall space mandated browsing only!)
  • Hiked a redwood forest in Northern California (Eureka) and sprained my ankle 🙁
  • Explored the Oregon Coast for a few weeks in each of Brookings (participated in Judy Howard’s fascinating writer’s group and taught a publishing seminar. We hung out on Driftwood Beach and Harris Beach), then Newport (Lincoln City Kite Festival, and lots of marina dock-walking). And we visited the marine heritage museum and the beach at Fort Stevens outside Astoria.
  • Enjoyed an evening of music at The 1905 jazz club in Portland. We stayed in nearby Troutdale for three weeks.
  • Visited the largest new/used book store west of the Mississippi River. Powell’s City of Books in Portland is an enormous store that feels small and intimate within dozens (hundreds?) of genre-specific rooms on three floors. They feature a rare books room where I enjoyed hanging out for an afternoon.
  • While parked in Troutdale, we also explored the Columbia Gorge area inland from the Oregon coast, including their enchanting waterfalls area, a ride on the Mt. Hood Railway, and a trolley tour of Fruit Valley near the base of Mt. Hood. We watched a wind and kite surfing exhibition in the eclectic city of Hood River. I also attended the annual Flutestock Native American flute festival outside of Eugene (Springfield).
  • Blew a tire on our toad (towed vehicle) en route to Washington. We’re now driving a rental car. We’ll need to travel 170 miles (one way) to retrieve it from Longview, Washington once it’s repaired (new bumper and front left quarter panel, painted, and aligned after four new tires are mounted, balanced, and installed. Only one blew out, but we’re replacing them all.
  • Now we’re in NW Washington on the northern coast of the Olympic Peninsula. We’re exploring the villages of Sequim, Port Townsend, and Port Angeles. This is a beautiful area! Oh, while here in Sequim, I subjected myself to a tortuous pedicure. Yikes!
  • And we’re not done yet. Looking forward to visiting Snoqualmie Falls, exploring Seattle again, as well as Mt. St. Helen’s, then Crater Lake, Klamath Falls, a month in Monterrey Bay area so we can do… whatever! Next, San Diego Zoo, Sea World, and maybe Disney (for Kay). Then, I wanna check out the ever-funky Salton Sea (they said, “bring your own water, ours is loaded with arsenic.” An important safety tip). We’ll then return to Val Vista Villages in Mesa, AZ for November and December before returning to Voyager south of Tucson for about four months. Next summer? Minnesota!

That’s a top-level summary. Below are a bunch of photos and videos, along with a few of my attempts at watercolor paintings or drawing practice that might amuse you. They’re kind of jumbled. Sorry. Skip if you wish.

Photorealistic Drawing Exercise
Drawing Cherries Exercise
Chiaroscuro Pencil Drawing of a Sad Boxer
Watercolor Rooster with Attitude
St Lucia Street Scene (Memory)
Sailing Under the Golden Gate
Giant Sequoias
Snow in Sierra Nevadas at 6000′ in July
Sailing on San Francisco Bay, Kay rocks on the foredeck to Jimmy Buffet
Kay and I posed in front of the baby bird we flew over the Sonoma wine country and its sea cliffs region.
Sexy butt! Kay’s reflection, ya weirdo!
Cliffs along the Sonoma County coast, north of the San Francisco Bay Area. As seen from our sexy little heliochopter.
Brookings Harbor charms!
Driftwood Beach near our motorhome during our stay in Brookings, Oregon
Harris Beach just north of Brookings. A very cool beach!
So many beaches, so little time.
We stayed in the Newport Marina (called the South Beach neighborhood)
Newport Marina is mostly a working marina, but also exhibits the presence of some serious recreational fish killers!
Newport’s iconic bridge.
Nye Beach in Newport, Oregon
Newport Rodeo. It was a lot, but… an experience.
Two old farts on the Oregon Dunes. We even found and ran the beach at a high rate of speed.
THAT was FUN!
Christopher Brown & His Quartet at The 1905 Club in Portland. Chris used to hang with Wynton Marsalis, Stevie Wonder, and other greats.
Largest New/Used Book Store West of the Mississippi in Portland offered us a delightful day of exploration.
The Rare Books Room at Powell’s City of Books in Portland
Mt. Hood Railway
We visited a lavender farm called The Hope Ranch. A peaceful respite and a wonderful place to meditate.
Mt. Hood looks small, but it’s not! This is like forty miles distant!
Chatted up two crew members of a brand new 154-foot Coast Guard Cutter
The Devil’s Punchbowl on the Oregon Coast
A typical July weekend in the town of Hood River, Oregon on the Columbia River.
Multnomah Falls with an almost 700 foot fall.
Mt. Hood Railway – an opulent ride!
Oops! A bad-ass blow-out (we do nothing half-fast, ya know!). Welcome to Washington, Mr. Toad (towed vehicle)! Nothing terribly serious, we think. We’re driving a rental for a few weeks while the Jeep gets her face lifted and new rubber all around. Just another adventure!
A shop in Port Townsend offering pirate gear AND steampunk wares? Hell, yeah! Me mate leads the way. I’m on her heels!
Too cool to buy!
Now, where would we wear this stuff, anyway?
Boats “hanging on the hook” in Port Townsend Bay.
Or how about a fifties-style soda fountain? Jeepers, that’s nifty!
Our rental car in front of the bus in Sequim, WA.
Looks like some funky weather is moving in on us (Saturday, August 17). We’ve been lucky so far.

Enough with the vaca pics, already! Right?

5. 2025 Tucson Festival of Books (TFOB)?

Sick of book news and vaca photos, yet? Sorry. About one more gig… hopefully.

I’m excited enough to share with you a possible opportunity for this humble author. The University of Arizona hosts the sprawling Tucson Festival of Books annually in mid-March.

In addition to an amazing array of seminars, displays, and exhibitors, the TFOB features an “indie pavilion,” an opportunity to feature authors who independently publish their books (my publishing imprint is UpLife Press). I hope to participate in that, and maybe even score a feature slot. Might they ask me to present one or more of my seminars? Probably not.

At the very least, I hope to hawk all my wares to a significant audience of book shoppers at the festival. We’ll see. I need to submit a manuscript that’s been published less than twenty-four months prior to March 15, 2025. I’m excited to offer up my Aubrey Greigh mystery, Dancing With Death. Pray for me, my friends!

By the way, here are a few comments from mystery readers about Dancing With Death:

  • This is your best yet. Very exciting. I actually gasped when I read that— (spoiler redacted!). – Julia S, 
  • You really nailed the suspense, especially by including red herrings and plot twists. I like being reacquainted with Greigh and McQ, and became fond of the new characters too. Thought I would like ___, but … big plot twist there. I love Butler (Greigh’s automated apartment security system and confidante), especially that you gave him Sean Connery’s voice. And he could easily be set in present times. – Dawn S.
  • The novel moved at a good pace, was intriguing and engaging. I truly enjoyed it. – Judy R.
  • I like the concept, storyline and characters. An excellent read. Dialogue was also excellent as was pace, twists and turns. – Mark M.
  • All the double agents, various international agencies, and crime bosses were easy to follow, and added depth to the story. – Steve B, 
  • Great job!! Thoroughly enjoyed the book/manuscript. I hope this one reaches the “Best Seller” list. – Tom K.
  • I have nothing but praise for your writing! – Dave K.
  • Blown away by your choice of words and character descriptions as well as their interactions with one another. – Judy H.

6. Saying Goodbye to a Dear Friend

One closing note: I’m not a huge fan of obituaries. This is an exception. Kay and I lost a precious friend and a great man this summer. Doug Olson was a decorated naval aviator, airline pilot, and a fearless fellow sailor. Fair winds and following seas, my friend. Captain Marti, our hearts ache for you, but it was time to make for the next port. For both of you, sweetie. We love you, Marti, and none of us will ever forget the skipper.

A man we were proud to call our precious friend.
Captain Marti and Doug a.k.a. the skipper

That’s it, mis compadres! So, until next time, and wherever….

Let’s roll!

Gene

Kay and I posed for this picture for our dual-purpose “cruising card.” We hand them out to new friends we meet on the road to stay in touch, and it’s also my business card. Ain’t that sweet?

P.S.

This quote resonated with me. I tend to embed contemporary social issues in my fiction. I’d like to think this makes my fiction more relevant and engaging to my readers.
Representing author GK Jurrens
Special Podcast Episode….

Special Podcast Episode….

By | 
Location: Petaluma, California

Catch the latest Relevant Fiction podcast HERE or wherever you find your favorites. This episode features a behind-the-scenes peek at the newest Sam Travis Adventure, and reveals personal insights about investigating the real-world case upon which this pulse-pounding story is based.

Listen to THIS LATEST EPISODE of Relevant Fiction today!

That’s it for now from the foggy San Francisco Bay Area!

So, until next time, and wherever…

Gene

I’m excited to share with you our next Sam Travis Adventures. LETHAL TRAIL‘s Kindle edition is available for pre-order now. And our third Sam Travis Adventure, LETHAL BOUNTY, will be available early this Fall (2024)! If you haven’t boarded the Sam Travis train yet, all aboard! And look for their audiobook editions starting late 2024.
My writing partner, Tom Kasprzak, is the real-life version of Sam Travis. These adventures are ALL based on Tom’s actual case files during his storied 32-year career in law enforcement. And that makes these stories about as authentic as you’ll ever see. Yep, Tom’s the real deal, my friends.

P.S.

Representing author GK Jurrens
May Day!

May Day!

By | 
Location: Tucson, Arizona

I have a deal for you… keep reading.

May is a time for Spring renewal. Speaking of new things, Tom K and I have completed a new book for you!

LETHAL TRAIL is our next Sam Travis Adventure, and is available for pre-order at a discount NOW. Keep reading for an early peek at this wild new yarn.

Before Kay and I move on to Southern California mañana, I wanted to offer you a sample of what is to come at the end of May.

But first, take a look at the Arizona desert exploding into Springtime color:

Now, on to the business at hand.

This second Sam Travis Adventure will tear at your heartstrings and keep your pulse pounding. Why? Because Sam and his temporary FBI partner, behavioral analyst Agent Letty Mather, battle heinous villains as they come to the rescue of a vulnerable teenage girl.

You’ll marvel at how this could possibly be based on a true story from the case files of my writing partner, Lt. Tom Kasprzak (retired). But it is.

Most of the characters you met in LETHAL GAME are back. Some are deplorable as ever, some new ones are far worse, and some will win your loyalty all over again.

This is another fun but thought-provoking read that takes place in the picturesque Berkshire Mountains of western Massachusetts, and elsewhere.

A reminder that when a book is available for PRE-ORDER, that means you can order it now at a twenty percent discount, and it will automatically be delivered to all your smart devices at the end of our May countdown. On June 1, it just magically appears for your summertime reading enjoyment.

Keep pace with Sam Travis, his friends, and their enemies as they pursue or flee justice, respectively… and maybe lust for personal vindication… in LETHAL TRAIL – NO BODY IS SAFE, our next pulse-pounding Sam Travis Adventure.

Pre-order your Kindle edition HERE. Its paperback edition will be available in June.

One last thing. Check in on Sam right now out on “the A.T.” (the Appalachian Trail) as he gets down to business early on in the following excerpt from LETHAL TRAIL:

July 6, 1988

* * *

Sam’s boss, Lieutenant Paul O’Neill, asked the Massachusetts EPO Inland Enforcement Bureau dispatcher to patch him through to Travis’s radio in the field. “Sam, we got a missing through-hiker up on the AT. Missed a check-in with her husband two days ago.”

He was enjoying a peaceful ride up near the summit of October Mountain, keeping an eye out for post-holiday poachers. He had a plan to familiarize himself with a new trail cleared a few months ago under some recently erected power lines and towers. The shades of verdant green exploded around him on this brilliant summer day. Even so, a few leaves had dropped and swirled on the blacktop ahead of him. “Seriously, boss? Hikers go missing or are overdue all the time, especially on the AT.”

“Well, this gal’s husband says she’s as regular as the Naval Observatory’s Atomic Clock—his words. Plus, she’s some kind of heavyweight west coast doc. So’s her antsy husband.”

“Say, what? Why me?”

“Husband says she’s reliable, almost obsessive, and she’s never late. Says she’s really late. Coordinate with the Berkshire County State Trooper’s barracks. They’re the ones who asked for you.”

“Okay, yeah, that’d be Lieutenant Rick Smith. Helped him out a while back. Thinks I’m a tracker. On it.”

* * *

Regional EPO Office

Glenville, Massachusetts

Sam wondered how his desk could be so messy when he spent so little time here. Worked from home most of the time. Picked up the phone and dialed. “Lieutenant Smith, it’s Sam Travis. Got a ghost on the AT, I hear.” 

“Sam! Hey, thanks for callin’. Gettin’ some major heat here. Doctor Mary Bishop, a through-hiker, disappeared in our neck a the woods at least a couple a days, now. She was last reported buying provisions three days ago—Sunday, over the holiday weekend—and then, nothin’. Hell, I’m not sure where to even start on somethin’ like this. Me ’n my troopers run damn fine speed traps, and got an outstanding record of workin’ with our county animal control at findin’ lost pets, but this?”

“Okay, LT. Tell me what you’ve done so far, and we’ll go from there. Fair enough?”

“The husband, Dr. Grant Bishop, flew into Pittsfield last night on a private charter from Albuquerque. He’s in the middle of some sort of speaking tour. The guy’s a mess, Sam. Up on Greylock, well, you know.”

“LT, from the beginning, okay?”

“Sure thing. Well, I had a couple of troopers hit grocery stores, outdoor supply stores, and trail outfitters in Williamstown. Branched out four miles from the local AT access point. We felt that would be about the maximum hikers would go out of their way. Showed each outfitter a picture of Dr. Bishop. One in Williamstown identified her. Picked up supplies totaling $153.22. Nothing out of the ordinary. The clerk said she was nice, relaxed, a gracious lady. Said she was headed south to hit Mount Greylock and looked forward to the hike. Used the pay phone outside according to the clerk. We believe she called her husband. The timeline matches. That’s it. Nothing since.””

The MSP lieutenant sounded exhausted and worried. “That’s a good start, LT. Nice work. I’ll drive up from Tyringham in the morning. Gotta tuck my kid in tonight, delegate some other business, and muster a few supplies in the morning. Get some sleep tonight, and we’ll hit it tomorrow. Meet you at your office, first light?”

* * *

Sam hung up and pulled a few topographical maps from his files. Williamstown nestled in the Berkshire County’s Hoosic River Valley near the Vermont border, highlands surrounded this village of a few thousand souls. At the northern end of the Massachusetts section of the trail, Mount Greylock loomed to the south on the topo map. With its summit at almost thirty-five-hundred feet, Greylock was the highest elevation in the state, and covered a lot of rugged square miles. But every search starts at one point—where the missing party was last seen.

***

If you enjoyed this excerpt from LETHAL TRAIL, grab your discounted pre-order price for its Kindle edition HERE. The book will then magically appear on your phone, tablet, or computer on June first. And another bonus is the excerpt of the third Sam Travis Adventure, LETHAL BOUNTY included at the end of your copy of LETHAL TRAIL.

Don’t wait! Pre-order now.

Pre-order your Kindle copy of LETHAL TRAIL HERE.

That’s it! So, until next time, and wherever…

Let’s roll!

Gene

I’m excited to share with you our next Sam Travis Adventures. LETHAL TRAIL‘s Kindle edition is available for pre-order now, and our third Sam Travis Adventure, LETHAL BOUNTY, will be available early this Fall (2024)! If you haven’t boarded the Sam Travis train yet, all aboard! And look for their audiobook editions starting late 2024.
My writing partner, Tom Kasprzak, is the real-life version of Sam Travis. These adventures are ALL based on Tom’s actual case files during his storied 32-year career in law enforcement. And that makes these stories about as authentic as you’ll ever see. Yep, Tom’s the real deal, my friends.

P.S.

Representing author GK Jurrens
An Exciting Winter!

An Exciting Winter!

By | 
Location: Tucson, Arizona

This winter has been a roller coaster ride, yet neither of us threw up! Not even once. Put Kay on a real coaster, however….

In this lifestyle issue:

  1. Roughing It
  2. Two New Books
  3. RV Rally & Seminars
  4. Maintenance of Animates & Inanimates
  5. 2024 Annual Voyager Flute Festival

1. Roughing It

Those of you who follow our misadventures on Facebook know Kay and I survived for three months this winter without refrigeration. But wait, you might ask, don’t you live in a camper? So, what’s the big deal?

Folks, we live in a motorhome, with emphasis on the syllable HOME. This is our only home. All the time. We are not camping at this stage of our lives. For those of you who are sticks-‘n-bricks dwellers, imagine no working refrigerator in your house for one-fourth of an entire YEAR. And then ask your question again.

Don’t get me wrong. We got by just fine. Borrowed an ice chest from our daughter Michelle (thanks, Hon) and fed it, on average, four sizable bags of ice per week to tuck around our food. One saving grace: our motorhome features a small chest freezer in the “basement” (accessible via storage-bay doors outside, below “the house”).

So I’d go “shopping” in the cooler and freezer outside, sometimes in the rain, often in rather cold weather, three times a day at mealtimes. And because we are a vegetarian and a vegan, we needed to shop for our bulky fresh organic produce every other day (ten miles into town). That became our routine. And it worked.

But imagine what a luxury it was when the parts finally arrived to repair our seven-month-old refrigerator/freezer! Yeah, kids, it’s the little things in life we take for granted that we shouldn’t!

Our 7-month-old fridge on the fritz crashed the party! Notice the blocks on top wedging it in place so it wouldn’t topple off this hydraulic cart. High design!
The parts came, and all was then right with the universe once more!

So, for 3+ months we “enjoyed” a non-working fridge/freezer plopped in the middle of our kitchen-slash-living room. Then, ahhhhhh….

2. Two New Books

Yup, it’s been a busy winter in addition to myriad distractions. Tom Kasprzak, my writing partner and I, cranked out two more exhilarating Sam Travis Adventures. Firing on all cylinders out here, kids. We’ll launch one this summer and another in the fall. Crazy, huh?

If you haven’t checked out book one of our Sam Travis series, click HERE. Look for LETHAL TRAIL (book two) in late May or early June, and a few months later, LETHAL BOUNTY (book three). Our early (pre-publication) readers proclaim these are our best yet in this genre. Watch this space for these outdoor adventure stories that will keep you turning pages and staying up past your bedtime.

Grab your sneak peek at the cover art for both books below (from left to right: back cover, spine, and front cover of each):

Here’s a peek at one scene from LETHAL TRAIL:

May 20, 1988

Framingham, Massachusetts

* * *

Sam Travis hadn’t visited the Massachusetts Environmental Police Academy a half-hour west of Boston in years. But he was ordered to appear. He knew by whom and why. The academy’s commandant and he needed to finish something together. Trust didn’t come easy these days, not even within law enforcement. So they treated this like an off-the-books operation. Both knew how to do that all too well. But their unfinished business had nothing to do with the academy. 

Travis hadn’t forgotten this place: the painted brick buildings, the sense of excitement and anticipation in the air… so thick he could almost smell it. If it hadn’t been for the discipline this place instilled in him, his life might have gone in a very different direction. Not a good one.

A gilded sign of gold, black, and green, with white letters near the facility’s entrance gate and guardhouse announced this was a military-style installation:

Environmental Police Academy

Framingham, Massachusetts

Some of the old-fashioned buildings on the campus looked even more old-fashioned with pillars and porches. Groups of cadets marched with drill instructors counting cadence. Memories—mostly pleasant—flooded Sam’s mind at the sights and sounds. How long had it been since he was a cadet? He felt as old as some of these structures. He’d dragged his mind and body down some hard roads since then. Approached an ordinary door on the main floor of the administration building. The sign on the door read:

Captain L. Jamison, 

Academy Commandant

Sam knocked and entered the outer office. His smile was a mask to cover what was going on inside. What was his secretary’s name? He pretended he remembered until he got close enough to read the name plate on her desk. “Ellie, so good to see you again. Remember me?”

Ellie blushed. She had passed her prime a decade earlier, but she was still a beautiful woman and a force of nature. “Officer Travis, it’s good to see you, too.”

“I’d come around more often, but I’d hate to make your husband jealous.” He winked. 

Ellie’s blush blossomed even as she smirked. “Like you have a shot, young man.”

They both chuckled. As expected. She said, “Go right in,” and she winked back at him. He shook his head from side to side. Too much woman for him, anyway. 

One quick knock later, Sam swung open the door to Jamison’s office. “Sir.” Neither man smiled. They were about to discuss how they might bring down a corrupt federal agent from the US Fish and Wildlife Service, or USFWS—a fed—and likely another high-level conspirator or two in the bargain, maybe within their own organization, as well. Sam would do whatever it took to both disguise the venomous hatred he nurtured for both of these criminals, and to go to any lengths to see these dirtbags in prison, or preferably, in the ground. He ensured his neutral mask did not crack.

“Sit, Sam. Let’s get right to it. How the hell did Mason slip away?”

***

Look for LETHAL TRAIL Early Summer 2024

And how about the first historical scene from LETHAL BOUNTY

(before the story jumps forward to 1989):

Charlestown, Massachusetts 

June 17, 1775

Ankle-deep in the blood of their dead and dying compatriots, he and his aide crouched behind a redoubt—one of the earthen barriers his men had hastily constructed on the ridges during the night. Still visible through the dense clouds of smoke in the stagnant air that stung their eyes and burned their lungs, the sun now hung high in the early afternoon sky. It was an otherwise brilliant day. 

Despite an incessant hail of musket balls, they bobbed their heads up to risk yet another glance down the hill from their impromptu command post at the advancing British troops. The redcoats were at least double their own numbers, and possessed superior training. Ten yards away with fire in their eyes, the reckless British bastards leapt over mounds of their fallen and advanced with ruthless abandon. Like they have for the last six-and-a-half hours. These were battle-hardened professional soldiers of the realm. The young colonel now doubted the wisdom of holding these hills against such a force with the now-dying or already dead farmers and shopkeepers in his own ranks. This is madness.

Most of his troops, twelve-hundred strong at the onset, were raw civilians, but harbored a passion for freedom from the oppressive Crown. That passion pounded in their hearts. Those who still lived, anyway. While this battle had only been joined at sunrise this day, they were now thrust into the third bloody month of this brutal siege on their own city. They fought to take back their own neighborhoods, their own homes. The new Continental Army dared not relent as long as their families and friends remained in the clutches of tyrants. Worse, the Crown’s considerable occupying force now terrorized all of Boston, Middlesex County, and beyond. He shouted over the din of musket fire, now growing more sporadic from their side, “Lads, they’ve already paid dearly, far more than we. In the future, they’ll think twice before—”

“Sir, sorry to interrupt,” his aide gasped. “Runners are reporting in. Squad leaders report their surviving men have little or no powder remaining. What are your orders, sir?” The aide stood shoulder-to-shoulder with one of the runners. The runner’s face of crimson blinked against the blood dripping from his brow into his eyes. 

Colonel William Prescott was a man of action, and valor, but also of conscience. He nodded as he wiped the sweat from his brow and addressed his fanatically loyal aide, “The rest of our militia dies here along with General Warren and the others if we do not now retreat. You’ve done well, boys.” He glanced around at his youthful command staff that had mustered in haste. “They’ll not soon forget this battle here atop Breed’s and Bunker.” Then, to the runner and to his aide, “It is time to muster elsewhere and abandon these wretched mounts to the King’s ruffians. Order retreat.”

His aide saluted. “Yes, sir.” At that moment, the left side of his aide’s face disappeared into a pink mist. 

***

Look for LETHAL BOUNTY Fall 2024

3. RV Rally & Seminars

I presented two writing/publishing seminars at the 106th FMCA (Family MotorCoach Association) International Convention in Perry, Georgia a year ago. They asked me to return to do the same at their 108th Convention. That’s one of the reasons we’re now here in Tucson. This rally was smaller than Perry. “Only” 1,200 RVs here vs over 3,000 in Perry. A helluva lot of fun and a beautiful desert venue.

No way I was ever gonna FILL this huge room. Grateful for every attendee.
Tried out a new seminar on how to craft the classic mystery. I enjoyed meeting and hosting a small but very interested group of attendees.

4. Maintenance: Animates & Inanimates

Moving from city to city makes it a challenge to not outrun healthcare. So, we go like hell to get all our doc appointments, tests, eye exams, and hearing aid appointments in before we move on. Same with motorhome “health care.” Biggest issue here is waiting on parts. Yup, both animates (us) and inanimates (our motorhome) require regular care and feeding.

Kay found some doctors here in Tucson she really likes, and as a disabled vet, I’m able to leverage Veteran’s Affairs here (and elsewhere). If they can’t help me on some specialty, they refer me to a local civilian medical facility they trust. Good healthcare here, and more accessible than Florida.

Northwest Medical Center Houghton, Tucson, AZ, one example of good healthcare (our benchmark is still the Mayo Clinic in our hometown of Rochester, Minnesota)

Finding an RV service center we trust AND can fit us in is always a challenge on the road. We needed oil/filter changes on both the main engine and the generator. We also needed the chassis lubed (pretty important on a 40,000-pound bus), the rooftop A/Cs and diesel boiler serviced, rooftop caulking inspected (since I’m no longer allowed “up there” after my fall two+ years ago, now), a bathroom fan replaced (as stuff ages out, we replace it), and a few other tidbits (aren’t there always other tidbits?).

Our trusty old bus at Freedom RV, Tucson (a Newmar Platinum service center)

Then, there’s waxing, going to a local Jack Furrier Tires for four new tires on the drive axle in a week or so, and we will outrun one part we couldn’t get in time (one of five heat exchangers for the furnace), so we’ll get that done in the San Francisco area where we’ll stop for a few weeks (Petaluma). It never ends. Keeps life interesting.

5. 2024 Annual Voyager Flute Festival

The season is winding down here. Another reason we’re in Tucson this time of year is the Annual Flute Festival organized by my friend Paul Surhoff at the Voyager RV Resort. This festival draws talent from all over the Southwest, and is an annual celebration of music and heritage of our country’s indigenous peoples and their culture (the rest of us are just immigrants!). I am enamored of the Native earth “religions” (they merely think of considerately connecting with all that is around us, including each other). This remains their proud heritage.

We enjoyed being entertained by an award-winning flautist, vocalist, and storyteller, Shelly Morningsong and her talented husband Fabian Fontenelle. They’ve been performing traditional Zuni/Omaha dances and playing traditional music since they were children. Shelly and Fabian still live in Zuni Pueblo, New Mexico, celebrating the tribe’s traditional lifestyle every day, and they travel to entertain and educate.

The audio isn’t great, but what a feast for the senses! If this interests you, check out Shelly’s website in the link above (click on her name). She offers CDs of their music as well as her own custom Native clothing & accessories, all handmade. A delightful couple, Shelly and Fabian. And their performance is so… atmospheric.

And then there’s JP Gomez, a talented young man who’s been through so much, expressing and healing himself through his flute music. Says it transports him. JP is also a talented flute maker.

That’s it! So, until next time, and wherever….

Let’s roll!

Gene

A blast from the past – after retirement but before
I gave up my “stuck-in-the-sixties” persona
(and before I lost 65 pounds).

P.S.

Oh, allow me to share a recent watercolor painting I’m rather proud of as I seek to rediscover my neglected painting skills. Below is a street scene from the Caribbean Island of St. Lucia in the Windward Island chain a few hundred miles off the coast of Venezuela and Trinidad. Kay and I sailed through there many years ago with our dear friends Doug and Marti. A wonderful memory. I’m striving to achieve a loose but vibrant painting style (yeah, I have a long way to go):

Representing author GK Jurrens

Archives