I Meant to do That

by Kathryn Miller Haines

You know what an actor’s nightmare is, right? It’s when it's opening night and you’re in a play that you’ve never seen a script for. And sometimes you're not wearing pants. I always imagined that a writer’s nightmare would be that a book of mine would go to press with mistakes. Not a missed comma here or there, but an obvious error I made and didn’t catch.

Well it happened to me. And I feel like a complete moron.

I’m not going to tell you what the error is in hopes that you’re a part of the reading population it won’t matter to. I would love to blame this on my editor. Or my copy editor. Or my critique group. Or my husband (when in doubt, he’s a marvelous scapegoat). But it’s nobody’s fault but my own.

How did it happen? I’m a fast writer and sometimes, rather than verifying a detail, I plug something in thinking I’ll go back and change it later so that I don’t interrupt my flow. In this instance, I used a placeholder and then forgot about it because…well….because there were a thousand other details in my mind that I needed to attend to. And I’m an idiot. As I read draft after draft what should’ve stuck out like a sore thumb, insidiously wedged its way into the text and became a legitimate part of the story.

Someone else caught the error, the last person I’d want to have pointing out my mistakes, but by that point the book was on its way to the printer and it was too late, and too expensive, to do anything about it.

My editor assures me this happens with every book. In fact, there’s even a website devoted to it, where I find myself in the illustrious company of Dan Brown, J.K. Rowling, and Steven King. In truth it’s a small thing. A single detail. A poorly chosen word that would only rip certain people out of the story and temporarily at that. But I’m one of them and that sucks. This will always be The Book with the Mistake in It.

I’ve mourned the error the way you mourn a fresh scar you know won’t go away. I know it could be much worse. I could’ve been caught plagiarizing scholarly research on black-footed ferrets. I could’ve carefully created a murder scene that so closely mimicked a real life crime that the authorities realized that there was a very good chance I had actually murdered someone. I could’ve erroneously called my book a memoir. I could’ve accidentally inserted a block of text from personal correspondence that revealed my long-standing love of prostitutes and how for years I’ve been client number 9 at a well-known brothel. In the grand scheme of things this is tiny.

When I screw up on stage I try to make a bit out of it. Let the audience know I know I messed up and share -- rather than suffer-- the laughter. You’ll leave them wondering if you didn’t intend to do it all along. I made a decision to do something similar with this mistake. I've reclaimed it. It’s part of the story now and by golly I’m going to do something with it.

But you better believe I've gone over ever manuscript since with a fine toothed comb.

So hit me with your best mistake -- writing or otherwise. How'd you make lemonade of that lemon?

MIND LIKE A STEEL SIEVE

by Gina Sestak

YIKES.

I seem to have forgotten that it's my turn to blog today.

I have nothing prepared, so I propose to open this up for questions. What would anyone like to know about:

me?

my published and (mostly) unpublished work?

the courses I'm taking through the City of Pittsburgh Dept. of Police, the University of Pittsburgh Osher Institute, and the Pennsylvania Bar Institute which include:

current:
Citizen's Police Academy
Irish Dancing
French
Acting

recent (this year):
Daniel Day Lewis films
Coming of Age on the Silver Screen (films)
Fused glass object making
Public Utility Law
Unlocking Creativity
Bird watching

I also spent part of Saturday at the Meadowcroft Rockshelter, which is the oldest known site of human habitation in North America. Oh, and I folk dance and participate in a dream study workshop (as well as being an active member of the International Association for the Study of Dreams).

Ask away.

Dinner with the Boys

by Lisa Curry

One hears how important the family dinner is to the wellbeing of children, especially during adolescence. We’re told that teens whose families make time to sit down and eat dinner together on a frequent, consistent basis are less likely to do drugs and get into trouble with the law.

Back in the days when I freelanced at home or worked part-time and spent lots of time with my kids (sometimes more than my mental health could bear), I didn’t think much about the importance of family dinners. But now that I work full-time and dinner is often the only occasion during the work/school week that my husband and I and our two boys, ages 8 and 10, are all together at once, I value that time to touch base, reconnect, and find out what’s going on in my kids’ lives.

At one recent dinner, I asked my younger son, Sean, about his day at school.

“Mrs. Cox hurt her back and had to leave, and guess who we got for our substitute,” he said. “Nurse Razzano. She’s mean!”

I’d never heard of a school nurse being called in to substitute for a teacher, but perhaps she’d been the best the school could do on little to no notice.

“She’s not that bad,” my older son, Griffin, said. “She loves my hair.”

Griffin has long, wild, curly locks, thanks to DNA inherited from yours truly and the fact that he’s refused to have it cut for the past year.

He added, “She tells me how much she loves my hair every time we have a head-lice check.”

Nice.

At another recent dinner, I asked Griffin about his day. “Did you go outside for recess, or was it raining?”

“The boys went out, but the girls weren’t allowed.”

“Did the girls do something bad?” I asked.

“No, they had to have a talk about menstruation.”

Probably another of Nurse Razzano's many duties, along with head-lice checks and occasional emergency substitute teaching, I thought.

“What’s menstruation?” Sean asked.

“I’ll tell you what it ISN’T —” my husband said, “— appropriate dinner table conversation!”

Sometimes he’s funnier than the kids. “We’ll talk about it later,” I said.

After we’d eaten and their squeamish father left the table, I explained the menstrual cycle to the boys and answered other questions they posed about the facts of life.

Sean, looking thoughtful, announced, “When I grow up, I want to have sex.”

What do you say to that? Myriad possible responses flitted through my mind.

So do most people…

I’m sure you’ll have plenty of it…

Good luck with that… ?

I settled for, “Well, good, that makes you normal.”

Since my boys aren’t adolescents yet, I can’t tell you if family dinners have kept them off drugs or out of trouble with the law. But in the meantime, family dinners can always be counted on for a laugh.

Rest in Peace, Aulf

by Joyce Tremel

I’m so sick of hearing parents of criminals complain that their “baby” was unjustifiably “murdered” by police officers.

Yesterday in Pittsburgh, an officer shot and killed a 19 year old man who shot and killed his police dog. Two officers and a police dog in a marked police car responded to a report of shots fired. When they arrived at the scene, one of the officers spotted Justin Jackson, who had his hand under his shirt. When he was ordered to show his hand, Jackson pulled out a gun. The canine officer then deployed his dog and Jackson shot the dog in his chest and front legs, fatally wounding him. The officer then shot and killed Jackson. Police Chief Nate Harper stated the dog did what he was trained to do and called the shooting a justifiable action.

I agree.

The dead man’s parents do not. Here’s a quote from the dead man’s father from the Pittsburgh Tribune Review: “"This needs to stop. The police are using excessive force and killing young black men," said the victim's father, Donald Jackson of the West End. "It doesn't make sense, this is terrible, and I want answers."” And from the mother: “"We are not going to let them get away with this!" Anna Jackson screamed. "They will pay for killing my son. They are going to pay for shooting my son over a dog!"”

While I feel sympathetic to the fact that they lost their son, he killed what, by law, amounts to killing a police officer. If Jackson would have showed his hand or put the gun down, the whole incident would have ended differently. Jackson caused his own death by his actions.

Although his father stated his son did not own or carry a gun, according to court records, Justin Jackson did have an arrest record for firearms violations, assault, and criminal conspiracy.

The Pittsburgh Police Department is flying the flag outside headquarters at half-staff and some officers are wearing the symbol of mourning—a black band over their badges. They are mourning a fallen officer.

There will be a thorough investigation of the incident by the Allegheny County District Attorney’s office, but I’m sure they’ll come to the right conclusion. While certainly tragic, the shooting was justifiable.

Citizens' Police Academy: Terrorism and Gangs

Annette Dashofy is currently enjoying a long-overdue vacation with her husband, but sent in the following post on the Citizens’ Police Academy, which she attended before leaving. Gina will be stepping in to answer questions and respond to comments in Annette’s absence.

We had another two-parter this week, beginning with Detective Ashley Thompson’s presentation on CAT Eyes, or Community Anti-Terrorism. It’s a nationwide program developed to eliminate racism and terrorism through educating and empowering the average citizen to defend our homeland against terrorism.

One of the main points Detective Thompson wanted to make was that we should watch for a person’s actions. Not what they look like, but what they’re doing. He asked us to use our instincts. Listen to those gut feelings when you notice someone acting suspicious. And he recommended the book The Gift of Fear by Gavin DeBecker, if you’re interested in personal safety or crime prevention.

The general profile of a terrorist is someone who is intelligent, well educated, obsessed with initiating change. He (or she…not all terrorists are men) is 22 to 25 years old and middle class to affluent. However, remember these are generalizations.

There are two categories of terrorism: Domestic and International. Domestic is US citizen against US citizen and happens ALL THE TIME. Think neo-Nazis, the KKK, black supremacist groups, etc. All extremists are not terrorists…at least not until they commit an act of violence.

International terrorism happens less often here on US soil. And not all international terrorists are from the Middle East.

Terrorists often use a “safe house.” You may notice a few suspicious aspects of such a house. The occupant (the terrorist) will use an outside phone. They pay the rent in cash and won’t permit the landlord or maid inside. They have no furniture, but the space may be filled with lab equipment. There will be strange comings and goings, lots of different people and there will be unusual packages delivered. Occupants keep unusual hours.

If you’re thinking, this sounds like a drug house, you’re right.

Terrorists need to raise funds. Some of their methods to come up with cash are coupon fraud (clipping coupons and cashing them in illegally to a store owner); counterfeit baby formula (watered down formula—this happens more in other countries, not so much here); cigarette smuggling (this brings in BILLIONS of dollars each year in the US); illegal drugs (Afghanistan produces 70 to 90% of the world’s supply of opium); credit card theft/identity theft; and something as simple as fake non-profits. Those canisters in the 7-11 asking for your spare change…do you really know if those are legit charities???

We received so much information in this CATS Eyes Basic Program that I can’t begin to cover it all here. Basically, we need to all keep our eyes open, be alert to suspicious activities, listen to our instincts, and report those activities to the authorities. There may be an ongoing investigation that your input could assist.

If you ever get a chance to take this program, do it. We all need to do our part to protect our corner of the world.

Besides, we got a really cool certificate of completion for taking the program.

The second half of the evening was devoted to the Pittsburgh Police Intelligence Unit and gang awareness. The Intelligence Unit’s role is identification ONLY. Pittsburgh does not have a “gang unit.” And not all of their work is gang related. However, gangs were the topic covered this week.

Pennsylvania doesn’t currently have laws on the books concerning gangs, but they’re working on it.

Gangs started appearing in Pittsburgh in the 1980’s and 90’s in the East End. NOW there are gangs in every neighborhood in the city, with around 1000 identified gang members. In Pittsburgh, unlike the West Coast, gangs are less concerned with territory and more concerned with money and drugs. Here, Crips and Bloods often work together.

Gang identifiers include clothing. They wear their colors: Crips wear blue, Bloods wear red, but they adapt and aren’t stupid or obvious. The red may be a bandana or red shoe laces or belt loops or may be something worn under a shirt. The current trend is an oversized white shirt and baggy pants or t-shirts custom air-brushed with a gang identifier.

Other identifiers are hand signs: non verbal communications in which the fingers are placed in ways to “spell out” the gang’s initials.

There is also the use of slang, but it changes all the times. “Cuz” is currently a Crip greeting. “Geyer” said in a kind of growl refers to the Geyer Street gang in the North Side.

Tattoos are either used by all members of a gang or NO members of a gang.

Graffiti can be used as a warning, to challenge rivals, to put out a contract, or as a sign of respect for a fallen gang member.

Not all graffiti is gang related. A TAG is the most basic and prevalent type. A PIECE is a large, labor-intensive artsy works of graffiti, possibly with 3-D effects. These are almost masterpieces and are sometimes considered museum quality. Then there are THROW UPS, multi-colored and balloon-shaped.

None of these are gang related. Gang graffiti uses symbols, numbers, and characters and may identify a gangs ideology, territory, enemies, or allies.

Here are some of the things you may see and their translation.

OG: Original Gangster
LOC: Love of Crips
MOB: Money Over Bitches or Member Of Blood
CK: Crip Killer
BK: Blood Killer

Crips will mark x’s through their o’s because there are o’s in Blood.

Finally, as a citizen, remember the four R’s of Graffiti:
Read it
Report it
Record it (take a picture)
Remove it (quickly)

I know I won’t drive through the city and look at all that graffiti in the same way ever again.

Next week: Recognizing the Explosive Threat

Feeling Nifty at 50

By Martha Reed

Last Friday I celebrated my fiftieth birthday, the big 5-0, and I suppose I shouldn’t let the event go past without writing about it, since writing is what I do. It’s been a pretty funny experience, first off because I’m okay with it, I’ve never felt healthier and I’m very happy where I am in my life, but everyone else seems to be having a bigger reaction to it than I am. It’s making me feel, well, odd.

One of my neighbors, a very nice older woman, saw the black balloon floating outside my door and offered her condolence, asking me how I felt about it. I think I surprised her when I said I felt great. Somehow, I think I’m supposed to be feeling like the end is near and the grim reaper is about to tap me on my shoulder, but honestly I can’t say I feel that at all – I’ve got way too much work to do to think of giving up now.

But fifty is a great time to take a pause and assess your life and your direction. I guess I’m one of the lucky ones – I wrecked my life pretty effectively in my late thirties and I have been rebuilding it ever since, and building it in what I think is a good direction and on a solid foundation. One of the things I’ve committed to is my writing – I’ve written before on how easy it is to get distracted and to go off and spend great swaths of time doing foolish things. Now don’t get me wrong, foolish is fine, in the proper place and at the proper time. Maybe that’s what turning fifty did for me; it seems to have freed me up to say ‘no, thanks’ and to continue on doing what I think is important (to me): the writing.

Two weekends back I did get a little distracted and I drove to Arlington, Virginia, to help celebrate another anniversary: twenty years of traditional mystery at the Malice Domestic convention. Everyone who enjoys traditional mysteries should go to Malice at least once – it’s a three-day merry-go-round of author signings and informative entertaining panels and interviews plus an awards banquet where they hand out the Agathas. I’ve always had fun making sure I read the Agatha entries beforehand so I could pick out my favorite dark horse, and the true surprise of the convention is just how accessible everyone is: I’ve met some terrific new authors just by sitting next to them in The Mez restaurant for lunch or taking a pause in a cozy chair in the lobby. This year introduced me to Nan Higginson with her Agatha nominated short story “Casino Gamble” (http://homepage.mac.com/adept/CasinoGambleMNYS.pdf) and I fell right into a great new series by Beverle Graves Myers, “Interrupted Aria” featuring Tito Amato, a castrato soprano in 18th-century Venice.

For purposes of disclosure I should mention that something big happened to me at Malice this year, and I have to laugh at it. With all the effort I put into my fiction, with the hours I spend exploring every possible plotline or trying to develop interesting new characters, the hours I spend polishing my prose to be the very best it can be, I finally won an award at Malice XX - for my hat. That’s right, yours truly won the Malice Domestic XX Most Beautiful Hat Contest for my entry “Black and White and Read All Over”. Actually, I don’t really think it was my hat that won, I think it was more likely the pun that won the judges over, and I’m sure there are some serious southern ladies with bigger hats who are a little steamed at me right now, but I’ve made it back north across the Mason/Dixon line and I’m hoping they’ll get over it in time for Malice XXI, because next year, as God is my witness, I’ll be judged for something I wrote!

Syphilis

by Brenda Roger

You’re welcome for that image first thing on Monday morning. I thought it would be an appropriate topic for Monday morning because I spent much of Sunday afternoon thinking about it, but doesn’t everybody?

Actually, I just finished Ross King’s The Judgment of Paris, much of which is devoted to the story of painter, Edouard Manet, who died of untreated syphilis. Naturally, I spent all afternoon planting sunflowers and thinking about syphilis. It’s no wonder that I think my neighbors are boring!

It seemed to me that more than once I’ve read stories about the lives of artists that ended with the artist dying of syphilis, which got me thinking about the history of the disease, which sent me on a quest on the Internet.

I won’t assault you with graphic descriptions of the symptoms of syphilis. We all got enough of that from our high school gym/ health teachers. Thank you, Miss Bott. Think about hearing the word chancre repeatedly from someone wearing track shorts with contrast binding and striped gym socks pulled over her calves. Sadly, the outfit was so much more troubling than STD’s.

Had Miss Bott bothered to mention the social history of contagious diseases, I could have taken my eyes off the tube socks and actually learned something fascinating. For many years, the theory about the outbreak of syphilis in Renaissance Europe was that it was an extra special bonus prize of Columbus’s discovery of the New World. There was a catastrophic outbreak of syphilis in Naples, Italy in 1495. Treatment of syphilis at the time employed arsenic or mercury. Nothing says health and wellness quite like inhaling mercury vapors! Can you imagine?!

Recent discoveries in the field of paleopathology (the study of the history of diseases) call into question the blame shouldered for centuries by Christopher Columbus. Excavation of a site in Kingston-upon-Hull, revealed that the bodies of at least four monks from around 1450, showed signs of syphilitic infection, such as thickening of the lower leg bones. Without further testing, it cannot be conclusively proven that the monks had the type of syphilis that was sexually transmitted. There is more than one disease caused by various strains of the corkscrew shaped bacteria that cause syphilis.

I personally feel that the field of paleopathology is critical to the future of human health, because understanding the natural mutation and spread of disease could have major impact on the future of medicine. I owe my new interest in the field to poor, dear Manet.

What is the status of syphilis now, you ask? Well, in the U.S. in 1943 there were 575,593 reported cases of syphilis, in 2006, that number was down to 36,935. Between 1990 and 2000, the number of cases decreased sharply. That decrease seems to coincide with the safe sex campaigns that were a response to the AIDS crisis. Currently, the highest number of syphilis cases occur in the south, in poor and urban areas. Education and health care are the key. Profound.

Now look around the room at your co-workers. Are you the only one thinking about syphilis? You are welcome again! Happy Monday!