As your day advances into fun-filled activities with family and friends, please take one moment to remember the men and women who served.
They gave more than any of us can ever imagine.
Thank you,
Sloane
Showing posts with label veterans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label veterans. Show all posts
Monday, May 29, 2017
Monday, April 06, 2015
Have You Evolved?
Science Fiction – An Evolving Genre
by Tom Olbert
Speaking as a writer who primarily works in science fiction, I am painfully aware that the genre holds extremely limited appeal for the public. The genre has dropped out of popularity. Most of the general public doesn’t take SF seriously. Kid stuff, they assume.
Maybe it started out that way, but the genre is evolving. The science fiction that has won current popularity in books and their big screen adaptations is the sub-genre we call post-apocalyptic science fiction (PASF). Stories that offer tortured young heroes and heroines struggling to find their purpose in dark, dystopian future worlds run by cold, duplicitous adults. And, if aimed and written properly, science fiction can be an excellent canvass for expressing such social themes and depicting characters who thrive in them, because it has no set limits or boundaries.
The writer creates the world that is needed to illustrate the point and to channel the development of the protagonist. The challenge is in making that world seem relevant to an audience that tends to be skeptical of the genre. To be taken seriously, SF has to escape the stigma of glitz and gadgetry and offer stories that are actually character-centered. The setting must frame and present the character, not just use the character to present itself.
One particularly dark and stinging PASF franchise is the CW’s “100” T.V. series, set in a post-war irradiated wilderness grown over the ruins of Washington D.C. Based on the Alloy books by Kass Morgan. A century after a nuclear war, the last survivors of humanity (or, so they think) live under harsh Draconian rule on an orbiting space colony beset by rapidly dwindling resources. They send a hundred of their incarcerated juvenile delinquents down to the surface to find out if it’s habitable. Turns out it is, but already inhabited, by two other groups of survivors. Warlike, savage tribes who live in the forests, and a technologically advanced but isolated society that’s lived inside a mountain bunker for the past 97 years.
Character development is strong and intense, weaving through dark themes of society-building, tribalism, leadership dynamic, and such timeless moral themes as justice, capital punishment, and war. It’s a raw, gritty look at human nature in its purest form, and it spares us nothing. Its strength is definitely in its lead characters. Most notably Clarke, the teenaged daughter of the space colony’s chief medical officer (a mother who betrayed Clarke’s father to execution at the hands of the regime, justifying it for the greater good.)
Thrust into circumstances beyond her control, Clarke reveals natural leadership ability and swiftly rises to power in her group. She soon has to face wrenching moral decisions that seem to echo the dark days of World War II. When the outwardly civilized, seemingly cordial mountain people start performing horrific Mengele-like experiments on the outsiders, draining their bone marrow in hopes of gaining their immunity to the radiation, Clarke must form an uneasy alliance with the savages to save her people. Clarke learns of an impending missile attack from the mountain through a spy she has on the inside, but decides not to warn her people about it, knowing it would tip off the enemy, robbing her side of the critical advantage. She must live with the guilt of her decision as dozens of her friends die a horrible fiery death while she gets herself to safety. A plot-point obviously alluding to Winston Churchill’s alleged similar decision at Coventry. When Clarke’s ally makes her own deal with the enemy, selling Clarke out to save her own people, Clarke must throw away the rule book to save her friends. She takes hostages and personally executes a prisoner just to make a point. When the enemy leader still won’t release her people, she makes the deliberate decision to commit genocide. Her hand pauses dramatically over the switch only a moment before she presses it, releasing deadly radiation into a bunker full of people, including innocent children and conscientious objectors who tried to help her people. The resulting nightmare scene of pleasant, family oriented cafeteria dining dissolving into excruciating death, bodies blistering from the radiation, women and children dying, conjures shades of Dresden, Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
“I tried to be one of the good guys,” Clarke later tells her mother. “Maybe, there are no good guys, Clarke,” mom replies. It’s not that everyone is out for number one, you understand. They’re all just doing their best to save their own people. Which is, of course worse. The story is a dark mirror of the world in which we live, but the characters have more life than that. We care about them, and they bring the dark lessons to life for us because their pain and conflict and love and hate for each other are potent.
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In my SF novella “Black Goddess,” I combined theoretical quantum physics with the dark yearnings of a morally conflicted Gulf War vet who has lost his faith and becomes obsessed with finding the core of darkness at the beginning of time. The story deals with the real-life agony of torture and what it does to the soul, and asks the timeless questions of whether primal evil truly exists, if life is anything but blind chance, and if there is a God. At its core is a simple yearning for love.
Quote:
“Beneath her black head scarf, her dark eyes stabbed through him with a flaming hatred. Then…nothing. Like a black abyss where a soul had been a micro-second before. A strange kind of peace. More than that, a oneness.
That look in her eyes. In his dad’s. It was the same as he’d seen in Lark’s memory…in the eyes of that kid in Uganda who’d held a knife to her throat. But, he hadn’t harmed her. Something had stopped him. When their eyes had met…something in her had pulled him back from the abyss.”
To read more on Black Goddess please click a vendor's name
Mocha Memoirs Press - Amazon
Tom Olbert lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts; cradle of the American Revolution, and home of University egg heads and kooky liberals. He loves it there. His work has most recently appeared in Musa Publishing. Previously in Mocha Memoirs Press, Eternal Press, and such anthologies as Ruthless, Fading Light: An Anthology of the Monstrous, Something Wicked Vol II, In the Bloodstream, and Torched.
When he’s not working or writing sci-fi or horror, Tom volunteers for causes he cares about. He comes from a most interesting family; his mother, Norma Olbert is currently self-publishing a biography of the life of Tom’s dad Stan Olbert, a retired MIT physicist and veteran of the Polish underground during WWII. Tom’s sister Elizabeth Olbert is an artist, art teacher, and avid lover of horses.
Learn more about Tom Olbert on his blog Other Dimensions.
by Tom Olbert
Speaking as a writer who primarily works in science fiction, I am painfully aware that the genre holds extremely limited appeal for the public. The genre has dropped out of popularity. Most of the general public doesn’t take SF seriously. Kid stuff, they assume.Maybe it started out that way, but the genre is evolving. The science fiction that has won current popularity in books and their big screen adaptations is the sub-genre we call post-apocalyptic science fiction (PASF). Stories that offer tortured young heroes and heroines struggling to find their purpose in dark, dystopian future worlds run by cold, duplicitous adults. And, if aimed and written properly, science fiction can be an excellent canvass for expressing such social themes and depicting characters who thrive in them, because it has no set limits or boundaries.
The writer creates the world that is needed to illustrate the point and to channel the development of the protagonist. The challenge is in making that world seem relevant to an audience that tends to be skeptical of the genre. To be taken seriously, SF has to escape the stigma of glitz and gadgetry and offer stories that are actually character-centered. The setting must frame and present the character, not just use the character to present itself.
One particularly dark and stinging PASF franchise is the CW’s “100” T.V. series, set in a post-war irradiated wilderness grown over the ruins of Washington D.C. Based on the Alloy books by Kass Morgan. A century after a nuclear war, the last survivors of humanity (or, so they think) live under harsh Draconian rule on an orbiting space colony beset by rapidly dwindling resources. They send a hundred of their incarcerated juvenile delinquents down to the surface to find out if it’s habitable. Turns out it is, but already inhabited, by two other groups of survivors. Warlike, savage tribes who live in the forests, and a technologically advanced but isolated society that’s lived inside a mountain bunker for the past 97 years.
Character development is strong and intense, weaving through dark themes of society-building, tribalism, leadership dynamic, and such timeless moral themes as justice, capital punishment, and war. It’s a raw, gritty look at human nature in its purest form, and it spares us nothing. Its strength is definitely in its lead characters. Most notably Clarke, the teenaged daughter of the space colony’s chief medical officer (a mother who betrayed Clarke’s father to execution at the hands of the regime, justifying it for the greater good.)
Thrust into circumstances beyond her control, Clarke reveals natural leadership ability and swiftly rises to power in her group. She soon has to face wrenching moral decisions that seem to echo the dark days of World War II. When the outwardly civilized, seemingly cordial mountain people start performing horrific Mengele-like experiments on the outsiders, draining their bone marrow in hopes of gaining their immunity to the radiation, Clarke must form an uneasy alliance with the savages to save her people. Clarke learns of an impending missile attack from the mountain through a spy she has on the inside, but decides not to warn her people about it, knowing it would tip off the enemy, robbing her side of the critical advantage. She must live with the guilt of her decision as dozens of her friends die a horrible fiery death while she gets herself to safety. A plot-point obviously alluding to Winston Churchill’s alleged similar decision at Coventry. When Clarke’s ally makes her own deal with the enemy, selling Clarke out to save her own people, Clarke must throw away the rule book to save her friends. She takes hostages and personally executes a prisoner just to make a point. When the enemy leader still won’t release her people, she makes the deliberate decision to commit genocide. Her hand pauses dramatically over the switch only a moment before she presses it, releasing deadly radiation into a bunker full of people, including innocent children and conscientious objectors who tried to help her people. The resulting nightmare scene of pleasant, family oriented cafeteria dining dissolving into excruciating death, bodies blistering from the radiation, women and children dying, conjures shades of Dresden, Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
“I tried to be one of the good guys,” Clarke later tells her mother. “Maybe, there are no good guys, Clarke,” mom replies. It’s not that everyone is out for number one, you understand. They’re all just doing their best to save their own people. Which is, of course worse. The story is a dark mirror of the world in which we live, but the characters have more life than that. We care about them, and they bring the dark lessons to life for us because their pain and conflict and love and hate for each other are potent.
.jpg)
Quote:
“Beneath her black head scarf, her dark eyes stabbed through him with a flaming hatred. Then…nothing. Like a black abyss where a soul had been a micro-second before. A strange kind of peace. More than that, a oneness.
That look in her eyes. In his dad’s. It was the same as he’d seen in Lark’s memory…in the eyes of that kid in Uganda who’d held a knife to her throat. But, he hadn’t harmed her. Something had stopped him. When their eyes had met…something in her had pulled him back from the abyss.”
To read more on Black Goddess please click a vendor's name
Mocha Memoirs Press - Amazon
Tom Olbert lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts; cradle of the American Revolution, and home of University egg heads and kooky liberals. He loves it there. His work has most recently appeared in Musa Publishing. Previously in Mocha Memoirs Press, Eternal Press, and such anthologies as Ruthless, Fading Light: An Anthology of the Monstrous, Something Wicked Vol II, In the Bloodstream, and Torched.
When he’s not working or writing sci-fi or horror, Tom volunteers for causes he cares about. He comes from a most interesting family; his mother, Norma Olbert is currently self-publishing a biography of the life of Tom’s dad Stan Olbert, a retired MIT physicist and veteran of the Polish underground during WWII. Tom’s sister Elizabeth Olbert is an artist, art teacher, and avid lover of horses.
Learn more about Tom Olbert on his blog Other Dimensions.
Monday, May 26, 2014
A Memorial Day Request
Please take a moment today to remember
the men and women who served.
the men and women who served.
They gave more than any of us can ever imagine.
Thank you,
Sloane
Monday, November 11, 2013
Monday, May 27, 2013
HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY!
by SS Hampton Sr.
It is a 3-day holiday weekend! Time to take off with the family to the vacation cabin or maybe just go set up tents and make a campfire around which to toast marshmallows. Or maybe stay home, have a few friends over, break out the BBQ for steaks, cheeseburgers, chicken, and hot dogs, and open a few beers. And music to dance to. Oh yes—and hit a few of the many tempting sales, all of which promise big savings.
Sounds like fun, right? Well, it is! All 3-day holidays are fun.
Except, to some people a 3-day holiday is just another three days…
“In Flanders Fields the poppies blow / Between the crosses row on row…” From the poem “In Flanders Fields” by LTC John McCrae, MD, Canadian Army. You may read the poem in its entirety HERE.
We have all heard the phrase, “freedom isn’t free.”
Well, it isn’t free.
Take a moment and ask yourself if you really know what it is to be wet, hot, cold, freezing, thirsty, hungry, dirty, and stink. Ask yourself if you have ever really known fear or the joy of being alive. When was the last time you truly enjoyed something as simple as a hot shower, a breeze on your cheek or the smell of green grass?
I suggest you take a moment to reflect on what the day really means. The day is meant to remember those who have fallen in the service of our country. That means those ill-trained volunteer Soldiers who first met the British regulars at Concord and Lexington. Years later those volunteers, trained and dedicated, forced the British regulars to surrender and brought the war to a close at Yorktown, Virginia. The day is for those in blue and gray who fell at Antietam, Shiloh, Gettysburg, and Cold Harbor. It is for those who died in the disease, rat-infested, and gas-filled trenches of the Western Front in World War I. It is for those of the Greatest Generation who fell on a thousand battlefields around the world, and for those in Korea, Vietnam, Koh Tang Island, Desert One in Iran, Panama, Grenada, Mogadishu, and the Persian Gulf.
And now the day remembers those who have fallen in the Global War On Terrorism.
The spirit of Memorial Day is to attend a memorial service in a combat zone for a fallen Soldier killed by an IED. There is no more lonelier and heart-breaking sound than to hear from the hot desert night the playing of “Taps” for a fallen comrade. The meaning of Memorial Day is in the actions of those who risk, and sometimes sacrifice, their lives for one another. The meaning of Memorial Day can be seen in the eyes of Soldiers, male and female, who have faced and seen death on behalf of their country.
And sometimes…see a Soldier critically wounded when an IED strikes his vehicle and a white hot chunk of shrapnel rips through his body; watch three medics work frantically to keep him alive; listen to the radioed request for a medevac chopper; look at the faces of worried, angry Soldiers marking a landing zone and providing security while stealing glances at the sky, searching for the medevac; watch the medevac land in the LZ with an on-board medic ready to go to work to keep the Soldier alive; and watch a surgical team of doctors and nurses labor to save the Soldier’s life…sometimes, thankfully, there is one less name to be remembered that day.
This Memorial Day I urge you, your family, relatives, and friends to put a red poppy on your shirt and take a moment to consider what Memorial Day really means. Think about this truly special sacrifice from those who never returned to their families. And take a moment to consider all of the men and women who stepped forward to replace the fallen.
“To you from falling hands we throw / The torch; be yours to hold it high.” From the poem “In Flanders Fields” by LTC John McCrae, MD, Canadian Army. You may read the poem in its entirety HERE.
SS Hampton, Sr. is a full-blood Choctaw of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, a grandfather to thirteen, and a veteran of Operations Noble Eagle and Iraqi Freedom. He served in the active duty Army, the Army Individual Reserve (mobilized for the Persian Gulf War), then enlisted in the Army National Guard; he was mobilized for active duty for almost three years after his enlistment. He continues to serve in the Guard, where he holds the rank of staff sergeant.
He is a published photographer and photojournalist, an aspiring painter, and is studying for a degree in anthropology—hopefully to someday work in underwater archaeology.
Hampton's first short story was published in 1992. His writings have appeared as stand-alone stories, and in anthologies from Dark Opus Press, Edge Science Fiction & Fantasy, Melange Books, Musa Publishing, MuseItUp Publishing, Ravenous Romance, and as stand-alone stories in Horror Bound Magazine, Ruthie’s Club, Lucrezia Magazine, The Harrow, Penumbra E-Mag, and River Walk Journal, among others.
It is a 3-day holiday weekend! Time to take off with the family to the vacation cabin or maybe just go set up tents and make a campfire around which to toast marshmallows. Or maybe stay home, have a few friends over, break out the BBQ for steaks, cheeseburgers, chicken, and hot dogs, and open a few beers. And music to dance to. Oh yes—and hit a few of the many tempting sales, all of which promise big savings.
Sounds like fun, right? Well, it is! All 3-day holidays are fun.
Except, to some people a 3-day holiday is just another three days…
“In Flanders Fields the poppies blow / Between the crosses row on row…” From the poem “In Flanders Fields” by LTC John McCrae, MD, Canadian Army. You may read the poem in its entirety HERE.
We have all heard the phrase, “freedom isn’t free.”
Well, it isn’t free.
Take a moment and ask yourself if you really know what it is to be wet, hot, cold, freezing, thirsty, hungry, dirty, and stink. Ask yourself if you have ever really known fear or the joy of being alive. When was the last time you truly enjoyed something as simple as a hot shower, a breeze on your cheek or the smell of green grass?
I suggest you take a moment to reflect on what the day really means. The day is meant to remember those who have fallen in the service of our country. That means those ill-trained volunteer Soldiers who first met the British regulars at Concord and Lexington. Years later those volunteers, trained and dedicated, forced the British regulars to surrender and brought the war to a close at Yorktown, Virginia. The day is for those in blue and gray who fell at Antietam, Shiloh, Gettysburg, and Cold Harbor. It is for those who died in the disease, rat-infested, and gas-filled trenches of the Western Front in World War I. It is for those of the Greatest Generation who fell on a thousand battlefields around the world, and for those in Korea, Vietnam, Koh Tang Island, Desert One in Iran, Panama, Grenada, Mogadishu, and the Persian Gulf.
And now the day remembers those who have fallen in the Global War On Terrorism.
The spirit of Memorial Day is to attend a memorial service in a combat zone for a fallen Soldier killed by an IED. There is no more lonelier and heart-breaking sound than to hear from the hot desert night the playing of “Taps” for a fallen comrade. The meaning of Memorial Day is in the actions of those who risk, and sometimes sacrifice, their lives for one another. The meaning of Memorial Day can be seen in the eyes of Soldiers, male and female, who have faced and seen death on behalf of their country.
And sometimes…see a Soldier critically wounded when an IED strikes his vehicle and a white hot chunk of shrapnel rips through his body; watch three medics work frantically to keep him alive; listen to the radioed request for a medevac chopper; look at the faces of worried, angry Soldiers marking a landing zone and providing security while stealing glances at the sky, searching for the medevac; watch the medevac land in the LZ with an on-board medic ready to go to work to keep the Soldier alive; and watch a surgical team of doctors and nurses labor to save the Soldier’s life…sometimes, thankfully, there is one less name to be remembered that day.
This Memorial Day I urge you, your family, relatives, and friends to put a red poppy on your shirt and take a moment to consider what Memorial Day really means. Think about this truly special sacrifice from those who never returned to their families. And take a moment to consider all of the men and women who stepped forward to replace the fallen.
“To you from falling hands we throw / The torch; be yours to hold it high.” From the poem “In Flanders Fields” by LTC John McCrae, MD, Canadian Army. You may read the poem in its entirety HERE.
SS Hampton, Sr. is a full-blood Choctaw of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, a grandfather to thirteen, and a veteran of Operations Noble Eagle and Iraqi Freedom. He served in the active duty Army, the Army Individual Reserve (mobilized for the Persian Gulf War), then enlisted in the Army National Guard; he was mobilized for active duty for almost three years after his enlistment. He continues to serve in the Guard, where he holds the rank of staff sergeant. He is a published photographer and photojournalist, an aspiring painter, and is studying for a degree in anthropology—hopefully to someday work in underwater archaeology.
Hampton's first short story was published in 1992. His writings have appeared as stand-alone stories, and in anthologies from Dark Opus Press, Edge Science Fiction & Fantasy, Melange Books, Musa Publishing, MuseItUp Publishing, Ravenous Romance, and as stand-alone stories in Horror Bound Magazine, Ruthie’s Club, Lucrezia Magazine, The Harrow, Penumbra E-Mag, and River Walk Journal, among others.
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