After a long and valiant fight against asthma and a heart condition, Alfie was euthanized last Sunday at the University of Georgia. The plan was to give him a pacemaker this past Monday, but, with the greatest of regret, we had to let him go. Farewell, my gentle boy!
The Detroit Lions lost last weekend, dropping their record to 5-3. They’re still in second place in the NFC North Division. Today, they play the Washington Commanders. I hope they can bounce back!
The 7-2 Michigan Wolverines and the 3-6 Michigan State Spartans both had byes this week. Let’s see if they can keep things going next week!
“Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it’s the answer to everything. … It’s the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it’s a cactus.” — Enid Bagnold. Compliments of https://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/72-of-the-best-quotes-about-writing.
So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on November 9th, the forty-fifth Sunday of 2025 and the second on in November. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).
Paul Aler, French jesuit and poet (Gradus ad Parnassum); Mark Akenside, English poet and physician; Julie de Lespinasse, French aristocrat, hostess and writer; Elijah Parish Lovejoy, American newspaper publisher and abolitionist; Ivan Turgenev, Russian novelist, poet and playwright (Fathers & Sons); Matthias de Vries, Dutch linguist (spelling); Émile Gaboriau, French writer (father of the French detective novels); Emmanuel de Bom, Flemish author (Wrakken); Bohdan Lepky, Ukrainian writer and poet; Allama Iqbal, Indian philosopher and poet; Velimir Khlebnikov, Russian poet and playwright; Erika Mann, German-American author (Other Germany); (Hendrik) “Henk” van Randwijk, Dutch poet, WWII resistance fighter, journalist, and newsweekly editor-in-chief (Vrij Nederland, 1941-50); Tabish Dehlvi, Pakistani poet; Sir Alistair Horne, British historian and journalist (A Savage War of Peace: Algeria 1954–1962); Anne Sexton (née Harvey), American Pulitzer Prize-winning poet (Live or Die; The Awful Rowing Toward God); Imre Kertesz, Hungarian writer (Nobel Laureate 2002); Marian Christy, American author (Invasions of Privacy); American scientist, astronomer and author (Broca’s Brain, Cosmos, Contact) known for his research on extraterrestrial life; Ronald Harwood, South African playwright and screenwriter (The Dresser); Donald Trelford, English journalist and editor (Observer Newspaper 1975-93); Roger McCough, British poet (The Mersey Sound); Ti-Grace Atkinson, American feminist author; and Bill Mantlo, American comic book writer (Micronauts).
Any names familiar to you? There was one for me this week: Carl Sagan. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!
My Work In Progress
Work slowly continued on my first edit pass of the manuscript for Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback and make adjustments based on what I think works best. Since my last post, there were another eight new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 331. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.
Here’s another snippet:
A knock sounded at the door of Latimer Manor.
Felipe Vanderbilt was escorted inside the study, where Latimer sat in an oversized, red velvet chair. “Good evening, Governor Latimer.
“Indeed, it is.” Latimer’s bright green eyes flicked to the man.
“I’ve news to share with you, sir.” Felipe lowered his gaze.
“What of it?” Latimer snorted slightly as his eyes weighed on Felipe, waiting for him to make eye contact again.
“There was an issue with the autostoker on Pawnee Street this evening.” Felipe swallowed, waiting.
“Was there?”
Felipe nodded.
“Well, handle it, then. I know you can do so without my direct intervention.” Latimer raised a brow and adjusted his cufflinks. He narrowed his beady eyes and fluffed the side of his straw-like hair, which seemed to be a bit yellower than usual.
Felipe knew better than to comment upon such matters. Everyone knew not to say anything of the like to the governor. Men that said less vanished without a trace or were beaten to an unrecognizable pulp.
“I don’t think you understand, Governor Latimer.” The man winced. No matter how he tried to speak to Latimer without betraying his fear, he failed miserably.
“What do you mean?” Latimer lifted his eyes, narrowing them even more upon Felipe.
“Your daughter was the catalyst for the incident, sir,” Felipe responded.
“Evangeline?” He snorted louder than he intended. “Are you quite sure of it?”
“One of your automatons spotted her yesterday in town around about the autostoker in question. It was the morning after she stayed with her friend, Rebecca Telford, and attended her coming-out party.”
“What did she supposedly do to the stoker?”
“The report says she pulled a pin on the running mechanism that stopped it in its tracks,” Felipe said. “Sir.” He swallowed, pausing for effect.
“Yes…” Latimer drew out his word.
“She was with a man, sir.” Felipe shrunk, wondering if he was going to get a lashed back.
“And do we know this…” Latimer hissed like a snake as he stood to his feet. “Man?”
“No, sir,” Felipe said.
“Is… she… home?” Latimer snarled.
“I believe so, sir. Last report was that she was in the gardens with that servant girl of hers.”
“Stay here, Felipe.” He took to the door, rounding the house to the backside gardens. “Evangeline Elizabeth Latimer, front and center now,” he screamed. “You are dismissed,” he added with clenched teeth when he got close enough to Anna that she jumped.
Giving his daughter a terrified look, the slave scurried away, leaving Latimer alone with Evie.
“What is this about, Father?” Evie’s lips curved as she batted her eyes, dropping her gaze.
“Don’t father me, Evangeline. Where were you yesterday morning?”
“I-I w-was in t-town, sir.”
“And what did you do to one of my autostokers?” Latimer waited to see if she would tell him the truth.
“I took a pin from it, Father.” Evie stared at him with a look of innocence.
All it did was make him even hotter under the collar. He didn’t expect her to be honest, and now that she was, his face flushed. He was never known as the most genteel man, yet he curled his fists so hard his palms bled as he stood. He was the ruler of these parts and deserved respect.
“And your reasoning behind it?” He shot her a stoic look.
“I was angry at you, Father. It was so foolish of me to do such a thing,” she admitted.
For half a second, his heart fluttered. “And why were you angry at me?”
“You sold my favorite horse, Father.”
Latimer stared at her, unable to determine if it were a lie or the truth. “Thomasina?”
“One and the same.” Evie crossed her arms.
“I don’t remember you ever giving two cares about that glue bag.” He scowled. “Why the disdain?”
“It wasn’t the horse at all, Father.”
When she stepped closer, he could read a small amount of anger in her eyes.
“There was one of my inventions in its saddlebag.”
“I didn’t get rid of her saddlebag, Evie!”.
“Oh, Daddy!” Evie turned, heading towards the stables, presumably to find whatever was in that bag.
“Evangeline!” He shouted again, causing her to jump and face him. “Where is the pin to my autostoker?”
“Here.” She pouted as she pulled the pin from her hair and handed it to him. “Will that be all?”
“No. There is something else.”
“What’s that?”
“Who was the man that you were with yesterday?”
She blushed. “I was going to keep him to myself for a while.”
“Give your father a clue, then. A name at least, or where you met him.”
“I met him at the coming-out.” Evie sighed. “His name is Jefferies, Thomas Jefferies.”
“Hmm.” He tried to recall anyone with that name but drew a blank. “This name does not strike a chord.”
“It wouldn’t,” she said. “He is visiting from up north. You would like him, Daddy. He’s White Utopian Supremacy.”
“Very nice.” He was unsure if his one and only daughter was telling the truth.
“May I go now, Daddy?” She batted her eyelashes.
“Yes, dear.” Latimer closed the gap between them and kissed her cheek, holding out his hand.
She placed the pin on his palm.
He nodded for her to leave and watched as she walked towards the stables, the anger still bubbling under the surface of his relaxed facade before turning for the house. He didn’t think she was telling the whole truth.
He entered his study. “”Felipe, here is the pin. Can you have it replaced?”
“Y-Yes, s-sir. R-Right away.” Felipe got to his feet and headed towards the door.
“One more thing, Felipe.” Latimer walked towards his friend. “Keep an eye on my daughter. If she so much as moves out of line, let me know. And find out what you can on a Thomas Jefferies. He would have been at that coming-out party two nights back.”
More next time.
This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.
© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved
Thanks for the post Randall always a pleasure to read what you have been up to. Condolences for the loss of Alfie. Have a good week.