Wednesday, January 01, 2014
In a recent blog post, SPOW President Andy Meacham noted: "Like his career, there is nothing expected or usual in 'Because No One Else Can -- Inside the Military Intelligence Secret Sausage Factory.' This nearly 800-page tome, available on Amazon, is as he says, a textbook for intelligence analysts. It is also a history book, a primer on strategic thinking and an an amazingly full inside view of the kinds of challenges intelligence agents face in a post 9-11 world."
Click here to learn more.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
On Dec. 10th, The Washington Post, in partnership with Diversion Books, published "21 Lives In 2013: Obituaries from The Washington Post." This 121-page ebook, written by the newspaper's top-notch obituary writers, commemorates the lives of Nelson Mandela, Chinua Achebe, Esther Williams, Virginia Johnson, Gussie Moran, Josh Burdette and many more. Marilyn Johnson, author of "The Dead Beat: Lost Souls, Lucky Stiffs and The Perverse Pleasures of Obituaries," also penned the introduction.
Best of all? The book only costs $2.99. Click here to learn more.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
I wish I had met Trojanowski when he was alive. Not only was he a former journalist for the Associated Press, he was a fellow overnighter.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Wednesday, September 04, 2013
September 4, 2013
I wrote an obituary type thing:
Duck "Doug" Silverman came into my life about 14 years ago. He was picked up by the State running through South Central with no collar, tags or chip. Nobody claimed or adopted him so a no-kill shelter took him in. That’s where I found him -- at that shelter, in Van Nuys. Since then we have slept most every night together (and many lazy afternoons.) When we first met, the vet approximated his age at 5 ½ so I’d say he was about 19 as of yesterday, September 3, 2013.
He was a happy dog, though serene. And stoic. And he loved love.
Over the past few years he became blind, deaf, and arthritic. But with a great vet, good meds, and a first rate seeing-eye person named me, he truly seemed comfortable.
Recently, however, he stopped eating or drinking. He was skin and bones and so weak. I couldn’t figure out this hunger strike. Duck had never been political before. And then, over the weekend, I knew. It was time to let him go.
My boyfriend Kyle flew in late last night and took the day off from work to be with us. We laid in bed and massaged his tiny body, as we love to do – hearing his little “I’m in heaven” breaths.
The doctor came and Kyle, my sister, Laura and I laid on the bed. I held him close – in our usual spoon position and stroked him. I told him how loved he was, and thanked him for giving me such happiness and for his unwavering companionship and love. The doctor gave him a shot and he fell asleep, and then another that was basically an overdose of sleeping meds. I held him and kissed him and whispered to him well passed his passing. I picked him up and his body was limp – you don’t think about the head – it just falls. I held him so tight. And then finally, when his body lost its heat, and I could sense the doctor thinking about the imminent rush hour traffic, I handed him over.
My longest relationship.
My only experience of maternal love.
My constant companion.
My best friend.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
“Jerry chronicled the lives of so many people in the city, from all walks of life,” said Tribune-Review Editor Frank Craig. “His words provided comfort to many families in a time of grief and made him a well-known, well-loved figure in our community. He took great pride in his work, and he leaves a wonderful journalistic legacy.”
For more, click here.