Slate & Style A publication of the Writers’ Division of the National Federation of the Blind Summer 2015 Division President: Robert Leslie Newman First Vice-President: Chelsea Cook Second Vice-President: Eve Sanchez Secretary: Katie Colton Treasurer: Bonnie Jean Newman Board Members: Myrna Dupre’ Badgerow Antonio Guimareas Kimberly Ann Valko Board Intern: Sophie Trist Slate and Style Staff: a team of dedicated members working together. Table of Contents Newman; page 2 ; page 2 ; page 3 by Myrna Badgerow; page 4 by Myrna Badgerow; page 5 by Chelsea Cook; page 7 Age by Chelsea Cook; page 8 by Eve Sanchez; page 9 by Eve Sanchez; page 10 by Ciaran and Coal Corby; page 12 by McKinney Lambert; page 18 by Lynda McKinney Lambert; page 18 ! By Heather Rasmussen; page 19 by William L. Houts; page 20 by William L. Houts; page 20 by Jacobson; page 21 by Robert Gardner; page 23 by Robert Gardner; page 25 ; page 33 ; page 34 ; page 34 ; page 35 ; page 35 ; page 36 page 36 ; page 37 ; page 37 page 37
From the Keyboard of the President By Robert Leslie Newman This is my last entry as President. I will always look back at my eight year run as the lead for this Division as a great experience. Though, as life will many times dictate, I need to give up my leadership role. I believe we have several individuals in place ready to take over and maintain the quality of membership benefits, and will make improvements for us all. I am one-hundred percent backing the new leadership and ask that you do the same. Here I will not write a lengthy summery of my tenure, nor get into a big philosophical essay on change, but will say, “Hey, to keep an organization healthy and moving ahead, periodic infusion of new ideas, passion and personality is needed.” I plan to remain a member, and do a major switch over from manager, back to creative writer! See you all around within the division! On the Slate The new S&S team wishes to welcome all readers, old and new, to the reboot issue of Slate and Style. It is now a team effort made up of dedicated officers and members. And it should be noted here that there is always room for more team members. There are changes apparent in this first issue, as well as more changes to come in the future. S&S will now be published four times a year at the seasons’ change. We also have a new email address especially for S&S submissions and correspondence. We look forward to hearing from each of you, our readers and division members. Please use this new option of communication to submit, ask questions, make requests and express your interest in involvement. S&S is now dedicated to showcasing members as they are in all their glory and levels of writing skills. Though, of course, we cannot accept all submissions, we encourage all members to get involved. We want you, as you are
The sign above the store front read “Heroes”, and as you walk through the doors you found an inventory that would not be out of place in a Post Exchange. There were all types of military regalia. There was clothing, boots and hats. There were pins, patches and emblems. There were two cases of military knives and one wall was covered with what appeared to be military fire arms. Upon closer inspection though, you would find that they were actually paint guns and air pistols that look like the more formidable counterparts. Behind the counter was a young man and though he donned the shaved head that is commonly seen on many soldiers and Marines, the resemblance ended there. His baby face was highlighted by twinkling eyes and a boyish grin. He was definitely young and innocent. Even his voice was filled with the laughter of one who has seen no evil. As he rang up my purchase, I noticed a tattoo on his right forearm; two lines of text reaching from below his elbow to his wrist. I was unable to read it. “What does that say?” I asked. Without a glance to his arm, “Fear not that which is just memory. Face life with bravery from this time on.” he said, “I got it the day I got back from Iraq. She used too big a needle and the ink is starting to blur.” His eyes momentarily fogged as his mind tried to see the unseen. It was another day of patrol with his unit. “This isn’t a war zone.” he thought, listening to the children playing nearby. It had become routine to walk these streets with rifle in hand. Left, right, left right, left… All sound was lost in a deafening roar amidst a spray of dirt and stone that came from below. The intense heat rising up his leg was unbearable as he went backwards. Up, up, up, down, down. Landing hard, the back of his helmet dug into his head. He could hear screaming for less than a brief moment and then silence as all turned black. “Wait. That was Johnson.” he told himself.
both sides, with certain unexpected but enriching deviations occurring as a result of the character's particular inclinations. If the character is introspective, the dialogue might include thoughts interspersing the spoken sentences. An extravert would find a way instead to express all possible shades of meaning through their words alone. For example, a character from the Harry Potter universe, named Kerstin Boxwood barely appears to think despite being rather intelligent, and so most of her dialogue would be dominated by the verbal component. In contra distinction, the character Roland from Stephen King's Dark Tower appears to be more moody, sparse with his words, in a certain sense exhibiting the idealized macho man stereotype which suggests a different type of dialogue for him, only lengthy enough when he has very necessary information to divulge. From these examples it is possible to see that both the structure and the content of the dialogue could be developed based on personal traits established by the character. Sometimes an overwhelming chore on its own, it becomes easier to engage in a dialogue and get to know your character better when working with a role playing partner due to the stimulating effects of their characters. So when reaching for ideas, try the role play suitable to the development of your character. It can be a group specializing in the same genre as what you are working for, fiction based on a book with concepts inspiring you to write, or a world where your character can feel at home. Choosing your role play setting well would stimulate you creatively to the extent that you would know more about your characters at large, their strong and weak points, their interests and what would happen to them in the near future. 2. Practice makes perfect It is said that a writer is supposed to write. Psychologically it might become overwhelming to
able to incorporate more choices and our understanding of people around us grows, providing us with more coping mechanisms to deal with challenges than we imagined possible. Our characters may grow as a result of an intense role playing activity but so do we as individuals, so long as we acutely observe and assimilate what is happening to them. 4. Problem Solving Often role play scenes force us to plunge into an unfamiliar terrain. Our characters, however powerful they may be, are still prone to weaknesses and are forced to overcome their challenges. They may be assaulted by other characters with unusual powers, by an uncomfortable terrain they cannot control, or by situations created through their actions or those of their companions. Sometimes the characters would simply have to accept their defeat as unavoidable, and that in itself contributes to their psychological growth, or to our own, as was mentioned in our explanation on psychological growth. And yet sometimes there is also an alternative, it appears like the problem can be successfully resolved if only there is sufficient ingenuity applied to it. It may not be always clear how to precede right away, but treating the challenge as an opportunity tends to help. After all, it can lead the character to seek out another character that specializes in that particular field, which may lead to the development of the said expert and further enhancing elements to the plot. Otherwise, the character himself could either procure or manufacture a device to help his self out, which aids the overall development of the character itself. Sometimes even the particular nature of the setting can suggest a certain solution that would not be available in a different world. Magic, technology, or the particulars of science can all be utilized, depending on what we are working with, and gain us a greater understanding of that
specific world. Although role play enables us to be creative in our approach to the challenges inherent in our writing projects, its lessons can be used unexpectedly for everyday problems. It works like a muscle, growing in strength upon repeated usage. If you are a steady role player, before you know it you might be able to come up with five alternative solutions to a real world problem you would not have noticed previously. Ciaran and Coal Corby have short stories of both horror and fantasy published in many anthologies, including Worlds of Fantasy Volume 1 and Through the Eyes of the Undead. Under the pen name Ishamael, Coal has several articles published in a Southern California newspaper, The Messenger, including a series of articles called Those Insightful Greeks. He also has tons of food reviews posted on Trip Adviser to which he has an extensive following. Together they run several writing role play groups on yahoo including one for Game of Thrones, two for Harry Potter, one for Hunger Games, one for Wheel of Time, and two original games, one for horror and one for fantasy. There they have a blast writing with other published authors as well as those who merely enjoy giving their imaginations an extensive workout. Haiku by Lynda Lambert There is a poetic form called a “Haiku.” It is a Japanese form that is elegant and so much fun to write. There are just a few rules for the Haiku and here they are. The Haiku will have just 3 lines The meter of the lines will be: 5, 7, 5 (Just count the syllables out for each line.) Your Haiku needs to focus on a season. In our case, we will focus on Spring. You need not name the season in your poem, but you can give information and words that make the reader think of spring. Let’s try writing a Haiku.. I would LOVE to have you send
yours to me so I can rejoice with you in creating your first Haiku poem. I warn you, they are ADDICTIVE, and you will want to do lots more. You can contact me by sending your poem to me at: riverwoman@zoominternet.net First published on Walking by Inner Vision; a blog by Lynda McKinney Lambert. Link to the original essay and poem: Some Haiku Poems by Lynda McKinney Lambert 1. Wheels speeding frigid lonely dim crowded parkway, solitary wheels 2. Haiku to a California Mountain (from A to Z) awesome stupendous, quiet dynamic glory timelessness passage. inspiring “Half Dome” Yosemite’s kingly view - verticality. jagged mountain peaks bathed in luminous vastness- behold prescience. breathtaking élan aspiring to elegance, zerophyte climax majestic noble caps ubiquitous and restive- this wondrous zenith omnipotent crags fragmentary precipice hauntingly quasi. 3. Spring Haiku bright saffron flowers disrupted crystal blankets to announce, "It's Spring!" McKinney Lambert lives in a rural village in western Pennsylvania where she writes poetry and Humanities focused essays, writes two blogs, and creates and exhibits her visual art in international exhibitions. She lives with her husband, Bob, 4 cats, and 2 dogs. Coffee! By Heather Rasmussen
a storm by an ex-church member. She eventually leaves the denomination and successfully brings rape charges against her former husband. Throughout the book, the author refers to her church community as “the people”. Indeed, this community is shown to have some definite strength. For instance, they come together to help each other when houses burn down. Community life is shown to have its joys, at least until the Jeff’s family leads it into a nightmare world. This nightmare, against which the story of her life plays out, features Warren Jeff’s’, church leader and prophet, whom makes many predictions of the end of the world. He also makes repeated purges from the sect of those individuals who disagree with him. One prediction of the end coincides with the 2002 Winter Olympics held in Salt Lake City. 9/11 is not sufficiently relevant to be considered worthy of a prediction of doom. There are also extraordinary claims by the Jeff’s including that the father, Rulon, was resurrected into the body of his son. These claims are not dismissed out of hand. In this context, the author’s spiritual struggle, “Will I face eternal damnation if I disobey the prophet?” is to be expected. Though this book is an indictment of child marriage, it is not an indictment of polygamy per se. For the author, polygamy is merely part of the background, a condition of life that can be handled with the right skills. Her view of plural marriage is much like the Federationists view of blindness. The disintegration of her family is depicted as due to her father’s lack of the peculiar skills needed to function in a plural marriage. He was not born into the sect. If this focus makes the book less useful in decrying plural marriage, it gives the book a more universal relevance allowing it to speak to the plight of teenage girls in a variety of oppressive situations. This book deals frankly with marital rape and psychological abuse and it, at times, is an excruciating read. It is not for the
faint of heart and is definitely not for the kiddies. Yet, in an age when teenage girls are kidnapped and sold into slavery, this is an important book. Jacobson is an active Federationist locally, in the Maryland affiliate and nationally in the Writers’ Division. He works as a mathematical statistician for Housing and Urban Development and has previously worked in the same job position for the Bureau of Labor Statistics where he worked on the Occupational Safety and Health survey and the Consumer Price Index. Shawn’s hobbies include reading, travel, and working on latch hook rugs. He lives with his wife Cheryl and his two children, Zebe and Stephen. He also has an increasing pack of dogs, Apollo, Penny, and Bruce. Tech Tip: Writing Using JAWS and Microsoft Word; Shortcut Keys to Get Information While Editing by Robert Gardner Assuming you are blind, a writer, and using a computer, I would then assume most of you are using JAWS and Microsoft Word. And if you are a writer, a significant part of the creative process is to go back over what you have written and edit it. Given all that, below are some JAWS and Windows shortcut keys to help you edit your Word document. This particular Tech Tip article will focus only on editing commands that give you information about your document, or allow you to read through your document in various ways. How you can make editing modifications to your document will perhaps be the subject of a future article. Note that this isn’t a complete list of the shortcut keys that can be used in reviewing a document. Such a listing would run to many pages, and many of the more common ones are probably known to you already. What is given below are some of the more uncommon shortcut keys I’ve found useful, and perhaps they are ones that aren’t familiar to you. Note also this
assumes your computer/laptop is set up with the desktop keyboard configuration. Reading down a sentence at a time or a paragraph at a time. I really like reviewing what I have written in this manner, and is usually my first step in editing a document. I like it much more than reading down a line at a time. Read down a sentence at a time: alt-down arrow You can use alt-up arrow to read up. Read down a paragraph at a time: control-down arrow You can use control-up to read up. Note that hitting those shortcut keys rapidly will allow you to run through sentences or paragraphs if you wish. Where is the cursor? Hit the NUM PAD 5 key to find where you are at. Hear the spelling of a word. With the cursor anywhere within the word, hit pad 5 twice quickly. The INSERT key is the big key farthest to the left in the bottom row of the num pad. Check the spelling of a single word. With the cursor on the first letter of the word, highlight the word ARROW), then hit F7. The Windows spell-check will check the spelling of that single word. The INSERT-f shortcut key. I find myself using this often, particularly when reviewing the work of someone else. It gives you the font size, font color, font style, line spacing, and the paragraphing style. It will also tell you if text is bolded, italicized, or underlined, or if text is centered. All very useful information. The INSERT-F1 shortcut key. INSERT-
Jessica watched him and sniffed “I got a cold.” “I’m in third grade,” the boy said. Jessica brightened. “Me too.” After a moment she asked, “You want to play or something?” “Naw.” He bounced the ball hard on the driveway, then caught it on the way down. “I got to help move things in. Mom and Dad went to get donuts somewhere.” “I live down there.” She pointed. “The blue house. Can you come down sometime?” “I don’t know.” Jessica wiped at her nose, following his play with the ball. Steven eyed her sideways. “You look like a boy.” “My mom likes my hair short,” she said, sniffling. For a second, his gaze met hers. “Your eyes are green,” she blurted. “Yeah.” He whirled and threw at the garage door. The tennis ball clunked, bounced, and he scrambled to his left to catch it. “I got to go,” Jessica said, watching him wind up for another throw. “Bye.” The ball again hit the garage door and bounced, but Steven spun around, letting it roll away. He looked straight at her. “Maybe I can come down later.” Summer She skipped out of the supermarket into the sticky heat of the July afternoon. With sandals slapping, a single plastic bag dangling from her hand, she scurried down the aisle of the parking lot toward her car. She kept her head down against the glare of the sun, her long chestnut hair falling into her face. “Hi, Jess.” The voice, low and ahead, was that of a young man. She jerked her head up, automatically brushing aside her hair. “Steve!” “Hi. How you doing?” “Oh, Steve,” she moaned, tugging at her
“What’s wrong?” “I look terrible. All this time, and now all I have on is this old top and these ratty cutoffs.” He smiled at her, perspiration already wetting his brow. “You look great, Jess.” She bit her lip and lowered her head. “Nobody’s going to think you’re a boy anymore. Remember how I used to tease you about that?” She looked up and her trembled. “I’m sorry, Steve. You know, about . . . everything.” “I missed your E-mails. You know, after they stopped. It got lonely over there.” “I’m sorry.” She edged over as a SUV crept down the row, its windows up, the air conditioning fan under the hood whirring. “How long have you been back?” she asked weakly. “I got out a month ago.” “Oh,” she said softly. His lips twitched into a small smile. “I thought about calling you. One of these days.” After a pause, he added, “I’ve been busy looking for a job.” “I see.” His smile twisted. “I thought being in the Air Force was supposed to open all these doors. That’s what they tell you when you go in.” “I’m About not writing anymore.” Then she looked straight into his green eyes. She hesitated, then the words rushed out like air from a balloon. “I’m getting married, Steve. In five weeks. August 16th.” His eyes stayed locked with hers. He seemed to be holding his breath. At last, he said, “I four years is a long time.” Jessica was wet with perspiration. She forced a smile. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” “Congratulations.” His sports shirt was damp, his posture not quite as erect as before. “Is it anybody I know?”
sincere and practiced, “that Steven slipped into a coma this morning. I doubt you’ll be able to talk with him. I’m so sorry.” Jessica swallowed. “I understand.” “We’ll leave you alone,” the older nurse said, still whispering. “Where is the family? Are they here somewhere?” The nurse met her gaze. “I’m not sure.” Jessica averted her eyes. “I’ll only be ten or fifteen minutes. I know there’s really nothing I can do here.” Her voice cracked. “And I’m not sure I can stand it any longer than that.” The nurse smiled and patted her arm, then left with her companion. Jessica stared into the slack face of Steven. Tubes fed oxygen into his nostrils, and some type of monitor was clipped to one ear. She stepped forward and took his hand, careful not to disturb the IV attached to his arm. His hand felt so warm, so dry, she thought. “Steve?” she said, her voice low and soft. “It’s me. Jessica. I’m here. I’m sorry I’m . . . so late.” His fingers in her hand remained lifeless. His closed eyes didn’t even flutter. She held his hand and studied him. Somehow, Stephen had been transformed to have the face of an old man. “Think of all the years,” she murmured. “Of all the memories.” Her lips started to tremble. She squeezed his hand and pleaded, “Steve?” He didn’t react in any way. The ragged beeping of the heart monitor seemed to fill the room. Jessica stood there for a long time, herself also immobile, his hand in hers. Finally, she leaned over, inches from his face. Her eyes became moist as she said, “I’ve got to go, Steve.” She kissed him on the lips, whispered in his ear, then straightened. Steve,” she said quietly, then grabbed her coat and shot out of the room. ran down her cheeks as she picked her way across the ice
and snow of the parking lot. She held her coat collar together and kept her head down against the biting wind. Ahead, the maroon rental car was a black blob in the dim light, the engine running to keep the heater going. George was inside, smoking cigarettes and listening to the radio. “So?” he asked as she jumped in. “I said good-bye.” George grunted. He turned off the radio, put the car in gear, then crunched slowly through the parking lot toward the street. “Jeez,” he said, “am I glad we left all this snow and crap behind.” Jessica huddled against her door and remained silent. She sniffled, her nose curling against the cigarette smoke. Removing her glove, she wiped away the condensation on her window and peered out. George glanced at her as he pulled out onto the street. “This was a long way to come, just for that.” “We can see the grandkids,” she said, snuffling. They drove on without speaking. They passed endless houses, darkened in the middle of the winter night. Streetlights slid by in rhythmic intervals, the only guardians against the blackness of the world around them. George exhaled smoke, his eyes on the street ahead. When he broke the silence, his voice was dispassionate. “You always loved him, didn’t you?” Jessica rubbed again at her window and gazed out into darkness. She said nothing. Robert Gardner worked his entire life after college as a mechanical engineer and is now retired. He lost his eyesight as an adult, but managed to keep working largely by becoming knowledgeable on the computer. He lives with his wife in the small river town of Hampton, Illinois, on the Mississippi. He became involved with the NFB fifteen years ago, and had published articles and stories in both the Braille Monitor and Slate & Style. His favorite
genre for writing is short story fiction. What’s In The Picnic Basket? For your enjoyment, here is a sampling of sweet and sour treats to tantalize your tongues. Recipes contributed by staff and members to share with all. Chicken Burgers Makes 4 burgers Ingredients: 1 pound ground chicken ¼- ½ cups flour Seasoning to taste; suggested salt, pepper and paprika. 4 potato rolls Dill pickle slices BBQ a tangy variety of your choosing. Olive Oil Preparation: Prep by mixing seasoning and flour into ground chicken. Use just enough flour to absorb some of the stickiness of chicken. Shape into 4 firm patties. Drizzle with just a bit of olive oil so they do not stick when cooking. Cook until internal temperature of 165 degrees is achieved. Or on George Foreman grill for 12 minute. They keep well so, make ahead for picnic construction or enjoy immediately. Serve on rolls with pickle slices and BBQ sauce. Freezer Pickles Ingredients for pickle mix: 6 cups cucumbers, sliced with peel (or can be chunked or cut into spears) 1 cup green peppers 1 cup diced onion 1 cup diced celery 2 tablespoons salt Preparation: Sprinkle salt over vegetables in a large bowl. Stir gently to distribute salt as evenly as possible. Let stand 3 hours. Drain in a colander and rinse to remove most of the salt. Let vegetables drain fairly dry in colander (usually 1/2 to 1 hour). In large bowl combine these ingredients; 2 cups sugar 1 cup cold white vinegar 1 teaspoon celery seed 1/2 teaspoon mustard seed