The Economic Slide Doesn’t Bode Well for the Workplace

“The Wire” was ahead of its time, but not by much. The last season of the HBO series about life in my hometown of Baltimore aired at the beginning of 2008, just in time for the economic crash later that year.

The fifth season of the Wire focuses on budget cuts and their impact on the police department and the Baltimore Sun newspaper. The lack of money creates havoc.

Nerves are on edge in the police department. One police officer flies into a rage and attempts to drag a motorist who beeped his horn from his car. He is restained by fellow officers.

Police are forced to back off the investigation of a major drug dealer in West Baltimore due to lack of money. As a result, the young desperado has free rein and goes about murdering enemies and opponents.

Also, the police find they can’t do their work, at least well. Jimmy McNulty, a detective, can’t even get a working vehicle to go to the scene of a crime and ends up taking the bus.

Furthermore, other crime investigations are delayed. Police have to wait hours for the crime lab personnel to show up and perform their duties.

With its own budget cuts, the Sun lays off experienced reporters.  The daily’s  city desk editor Gus Haynes finds that his untrained cubs and overstreteched reporters miss out on stories picked up by the more popular TV stations.

The worst part of the economic crunch in Baltimore is how it affects the integrity of the workers involved. Police detective McNulty, a detective struggling with numerous addictions, decides to fake crime scenes of homeless men so that it appears there is a serial killer on the loose. McNulty believes this will get the attention of the mayor’s office and they, as a result, will just HAVE TO re-fund the police department.

Not to be outdone, in the rush to keep up with in the popular media of the day and save the paper economically, senior editors overlook some shoddy reporting.  Reporter Scott Templeton is quite adept at just plain making stuff up and getting published at the whim of the big bosses, much to the chagrin of old salt Haynes.

“The Wire” isn’t the only TV drama depicting tough financial conditions. Another favorite  show of mine, the medical drama “House”, is doing the same this year, with the same themes reflecting the effect of low budgets.

Dr. Gregory House, a foremost diagnostician, has been released from prison at the behest of Dr. Eric Foreman, the dean of medicine at his old hospital.  House is himself making minimum wage and is on a tight leash from Foreman, who will have him sent back to prison if he goes back to his old chicanery on the job.

House is clever, though. He manages to recruit a prison doctor he got to know in jail (whom he also helped get fired) to work for nothing to help him solve his cases. He also is given the assistance of a female doctor who has a sexual harassment case pending in which she accused her boss of some unwanted advances.

However, House doesn’t intend for things to remain staffed by unpaid staff and malcontents. He is determined to get his old department funded again and gain the services of some of his old staff.

As a result, in two straight episodes House  uses wealthy patients to further his schemes.  One of them has a disorder which makes them overly altruistic and House hits him up for donations.

The other is a CEO. When the stock price of the man’s company plummets upon news of his illness, House buys up stock. Assuming he will save the businessman’s life, House expects the stock to rise again. Thus, through a little insider trading, he will be able to make his department financially stable.

These shows bring up some troubling issues to me as we move into a new year. I am thinking of how the economic woes around the world will affect the workplace.

I am familiar with one office where the department is under the same kind of duress as described in “The Wire”. Workers are doing the work it used to require 2 or more other people to do.

The workers are stressed. They are working long hours and some are not sleeping well. They feel disrespected by those in charge.

Others see the handwriting on the wall. They are updating their skills and resumes, anticipating an eventual lay off.

The good news for these people is that they are still working and earning an income. The bad news is that  their workplace looks as if it is on life support and doomed for the tomb.

However, if you look around one wonders where these people are supposed to go. I just read an article which stated that teens in American can’t find work because adults, including recent college grads, are taking the jobs they want.

As the economy slides, I fear for the impact it will have on people. We will see people who are extremely out of sorts doing desperate things, as depicted in “The Wire” and “House”.

2012 NFL Divisonal Round Picks -the “In -tim- gibles”

AFC
 
Denver 20 New England 17
 
John Fox runs his ground and pound offense and motivates his stout defense to an upset. The Bronc’s dominate the clock and keep Brady off the field and Eddie Royal (VT) runs a punt back for a TD. Even so, Brady engineers enogh points to win. However, Tee-ee-bow (Tee-EE-bow) pulls another rabbit out of the hat. With seconds remaining, he scrambles into field goal range (barely). Strong legged Matt Prater kicks a 50 plus yard field goal to send the Bronc’s to Balmer.
 
Baltimore 13 Houston 6
 
Houston’s physical style matches Baltimore’s.  The two teams ground and pound all game, but their defense’s remain resolute. Baltimore score’s a game winnning defensive touchdown via a Ray Lewis interception off the hands of rookie TJ Yates. Former Cavalier Matt Schaub demands to be put in the game despite his season ending injury and former Panther Jake Delhomme also screams at Gary Kubiak for playing time even though it’s been 5 years since he was a decent NFL QB.   Former Skin Matt Turk pins the Ravens in their own territory consistently and Joe Flacco (pronounced Flak-kooo in Balmer) is unable to overcome his mediocrity to dig them out. Thus, in this era of high scores, this one harkens back to the games normally won by the Ravens’ 2000 Super Bowl team.
 
NFC
 
Green Bay 42 New York 24
 
The Giants pass rush knocks Aaron Rogers out of the game at the beginning of the 2nd quarter. Matt Flynn comes in and as a “system” quarterback doesn’t miss a beat and racks up points on the Gigantti’s.  Victor Cruz does the salsa and the Pack is nicked by Nicks, but it isn’t enough to overcome the Green Bay offensive machine. A week after the game, Daniel Snyder offers Flynn his own media empire in exchange for becoming the Redskin quarterback. Alas, due to the pounding the Giants inflicted upon him, he doesn’t pass the physical and the Skins begin another year with Rex Grossman under center.
 
New Orleans 38 San Francisco 10
 
Drew Brees directs his team to another 30 plus first downs and former Skin defensive coordinator Greg Williams’s ball hawking pressure defense turns Alex Smith back into a pumpkin. Former Maryland Terrapin Vernon Davis scores San Fran’s lone touchdown. Ex Skin Carlos Rogers is burned for numerous long bombs ala Steelers Ike Taylor. During the end of game handshake, Jim Harbaugh slaps Sean Payton on the back so hard that the latter’s injured knee buckles, sending him to the hospital. Lacking competition, Jim calls his brother John in Baltimore from the locker room and challenges him to an arm wrestling match.

2011 Reflections

As we prepare to enter the final year of existence (see the disaster movie “2012″, although I haven’t and won’t, and the Mayan calendar), some reflection on this past year is in order. Here are some of my thoughts:

* The world is becoming more, not less, autocratic.

* Employers are turning into what my father used to call “tinhorn dictators”.

* “The Protester” being chosen as the person of the year by Time magazine is absurd. This year’s brand can’t hold a candle to Vietnam era revolutionaries.

* Immigration policy and enforcement is broken everywhere I go.

* It’s almost a year until the next presidential election in the USA and I’m already sick of it.

* Medicine is a great boon to mankind, and especially yours truly. Ten years ago, I would have died from a disease I now control with a pill.  Two of my kids are interested in entering the field, too.

* Some of my best moments this year were when I didn’t have access to electronics. I have fallen in love again with the book.

* The doomsday mood in the media this year over the economy and other issues reminds me of the Y2K hysteria at the turn of the century. The attitude is “run for your lives”. I for one am refusing to buy into it, although as a news freak I find it intriguing.

* Having said that, it is true that capitalism is in meltdown mode:

–On Christmas Day I went looking for a Sunday paper and found an open gas station. I told the woman clerk that I felt sorry for her that she had to work on Christmas. She said,”It’s greed.”  I agree.

–No one wants to pay you anything anymore either.

–Personally, I am in a fix because one person (the prime minister of the UK) nixed a deal with his European Union partners and sent the euro into a downward spiral. I work in Europe and send most of my earnings back to the States to my family. The only reason I can afford to  rent a flat and incur other personal expenses there is because the euro has been high against the dollar. No more.

* I know I am getting old when 20th century landmark events and places  have the same historical significance as Civil War battlefields did to me when I was a young man.

* Blood is thicker than water and no relationships are more important than those in your family.

* On that note, no heartbreak is greater than that which originates from or with one’s kin.

This year circumstances forced me to finally look in the mirror. I haven’t liked what I have seen.

I am grateful for movements and people out there dedicated to helping people like me recover from themselves.

More than anything, I am grateful for my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. This year I have had no choice to turn my life over to His care.

The result has been an understanding that, although I may not measure up in man’s eyes, with the opposite of accolades and achievements having come my way in 2011,  I am in a sweet place with Jesus at year’s end. In His kingdom I am evaluated by His promises, His grace and what I do with Him.

Happy New Year!

Planes, Trains and Megabuses

Traveling always presents itself with uncertainties these days, but especially at Christmas time. So I wasn’t sure what to expect as my mobile phone went off at 5 am.

I was already up when the little soft music began to play. I grabbed my backpack and laptop, my only luggage, and walked to my office in the dark to check the Internet before catching the bus to the train station.

I wanted to make sure I had a flight to catch for one. I had put in for a new return date last August when it appeared immigration problems in Finland, where I work, might prevent me from actually staying.

I cancelled that request when the immigration problem cleared up, but I was still a little nervous about it. This online travel agency has some funny rules that make it sound as if they will consider you a no show if you even inquire about a change and don’t contact them and cancel in enough time.

I had cancelled my August return 5 minutes before take off with an Email.

My mind was eased when I could at least get my boarding pass from London to Washington online. I couldn’t get one from Helsinki, but I wasn’t too worried.

Even so, I wasn’t looking forward to standing in what I believed would be long lines of holiday travelers. I needn’t have worried about that either. I danced right though check in.

It was a outbound passport control where I encountered my biggest, and also unexpected, challenge. I met a young Finnish Nazi border control officer.

Or maybe he was just in a bad mood. Or maybe he didn’t like the fact that I looked somewhat unkempt since I hadn’t had a haircut since I left my country for his last July.

First, he told me to move back as he was helping a young British chick.  I didn’t notice that there was a little painted line where I was supposed to wait.

“Farther. Farther”, he said. I looked down and saw the line.

Young Adolph said in a condescending fashion,”There you go.”

I had obviously disrupted his flirtation. Sorry, buddy, but the girl was with her boyfriend anyway. I guess he didn’t care since he had passed him through and he was gone.

When I got to meet him face to face, he pored over my passport. “Where’s the stamp?”, he asked.

I assumed Der Fuhrer meant my entry stamp. “It’s a new passport”, I told him, the inference being that it might be a little difficult to find my entry stamp because of that.

“Also,  I am a resident, but the police told me that I needed to change my status from one based on kinship to work.” I gave him my old passport with the residence permit in it and told him that the change was in process.

The Hitler clone was nonplussed by this and my lack of a residence permit in my new passport. I told him that, yes, I too was wondering why they didn’t collect my passport to insert the new permit and only asked for 120 euros.

As I have found in Finland of late, when those in authority make a mistake, it is my fault, not there’s. “When you come back you need to go straight to the police station and get this taken care of,”said Adolph.

I was not happy at my treatment by this young Finnish fascist, but as I am working on my rage these days I thanked him (so much) and went on my way. It took me about 30 minutes to calm down at the gate, which I was able to do by eating peanuts and being thankful I was going home to be with my family at Christmas.

I still am amazed, however, as I was when in Hitler’s presence, that I had so much difficulty LEAVING his country.  It was easier for me to leave the Middle East, and I had to have an exit visa there.

My flight to London made up for the experience I just had. It wasn’t full. I had plenty of leg room, so that leg of the trip was easy.

I have gotten to like Heathrow because they seemed to have figured out how to keep lines moving during security checks. They didn’t disappoint me. I’ve learned a lot too in my travels, like packing my belt away.

The only hassle I had in London was catching the train to my gate. There were two train lines opposite to each other and lighted signs which told you which train to board.

It was hot and crowded down there and things didn’t get any more comfortable when those danged lights kept switching. The crowd moved back and forth across the platform like little ants.

Finally I boarded a train and I got to the gate. There I had another experience I have written off to a sign of the times.

As I went through the gate with my boarding pass, I wanted to wish the people taking my card a Merry Christmas. However, I hesitated.

Behind the counters representing the airline were an Indian woman, an older south Asian man, and a young Arab fellow.  As this was London, the land of Charles Dickens, I didn’t suppose wishing someone a Merry Christmas would be an issue.

I finally blurted it out in passing despite not knowing if was talking to a Hindu or Muslim. I guess my struggle came from the American issue  about whether I should wish someone a  Happy Holidays or a Merry Christmas. As a Christian, I prefer the latter.

The flight to Washington was pretty uneventful. My remembrances will be of the noisy baby of the young Middle Eastern couple behind me, his father’s knee in my back, and the chatty middle aged French fellow next to me who talked for a whole hour to the woman next to him before saying,”Well” and turning to his reading material.

I will also remember that probably for the first time ever I didn’t even open my headset. In addition, I will happily recall the chat I had with our  nice British pilot on the shuttle from the gate about what it was like to fly into 90 mile per hour headwinds.

Back in the States, I got to experience our dear security measures at the airport. Passport control again was my bugaboo.

There were six flights coming through at the same time. It took me an hour to get through that.

I longed to be with the internationals, whose line seemed shorter. The only saving grace was that the 49ers and Steelers were on the tube overhead.

I kept wondering why  the video the authorities kept recycling made a statement such as “we know you are tired but…”. My  thought was: “if you know we are tired, you might avoid putting us through this after a bumpy 9 hour flight.”

I was picked up by my faithful friend Ed, who put me up for the night.  I had a warm greeting from his wife and dog.

We also had a nice chat, and as is common with Ed, he gave me some nice gifts indicative of our mutual shared interests. These presents included a hoodie from the university we attended, a Sergeant Fury and His Howling Commandos comic book, and a 2012 civil war calendar.

Ed made me French Toast and bacon the next morning after my dutiful mobile phone alarm went off, treated me to Dunkin Donuts Coffee and a blueberry cake donut on the way out and dropped me off at Union Station. Ed and Pam are wonderful people!

I went to Union Station to take something called the Megabus. My wife arranged this because it was only 25 dollars and it would have been prohibitively expensive in gas and time for someone in southwest Virginia to come and get me.

I had pictures of the old Greyhound or Trailways in my mind beforehand. I imagined sitting next to a smelly hobo or something.

I have now become the Megabus’ greatest fan. The bus was a comfortable double decker loaded with students and “normal” people like me.

I was a little concerned about my ticketing as all I had was an online registration number, but I didn’t even need it. If there was a hobo on the bus it was me because this longhair boarded from the back, put no luggage underneath and no one checked my credentials. Weird, but nice.

We went by the Capitol, the White House, and the Washington Monument on the way out of town. There was an African American security man on Constitution Avenue standing there and shadow boxing.

I loved it. I would never see such demonstrations from official personnel in Finland, unless there was alcohol involved.

As we headed out toward Interstate 66, we hit a traffic jam. Very typical of DC. I wrote it off to an accident or construction.

It was an interesting cultural footnote to watch a heavyset construction worker RUNNING toward some task as we passed his site next to the highway. I love America.

The bus wandered down the Shenandoah Valley on a sunny, mellow day. It was quiet and peaceful and relaxing. The only stop we made was my own in Christiansburg.

Meeting me were my lovely daughters, our neigbor who was driving to pick me up, and my friend who was nice enough just to show up at the bus drop point to greet my arrival.

My wife insisted I get a haircut first thing when she saw me. I bet I get better treatment on the way back to Finland in January.

But for now, I am happy and dancing like Snoopy as I am home with my family for Christmas. As John Candy said to MaCauley Caulkin’s Mom in the Christmas move “Home Alone”,  Polka Polka Polka!

 

A Well Deserved Finnish Pickle

I have never thought of the pickle as a holiday food, but for me it has begun to be part of my cuisine these days. In particular, I am gobbling down one Finnish pickle after the other.

I speak metaphorically. In August I discussed on this blog my Finnish “pickle”, which was the immigration problem I was having at the time. A couple of months ago Í paid the 120 euros the Finnish government wanted from me to change what I saw as a perfectly valid work permit based on kinship to one based on work and moved on.

Anything to keep the Finnish government solvent. These are tough times. 

However, my relation to Finnish pickles has expanded. They are not just of the immigration variety. Indeed, they are more like the Heinz catsup in their ability to encompass all areas of life, especially for a foreigner like me.

One species of pickle I have encountered is the student pickle. Like my immigration problem, this one I bit into in August.

When I returned on my third tour of Suomi, I decided to see if I could get reinstated as a student. It took six weeks, but I was successful.

Like everything else here, I was charged for it. I was late (through I believe no fault of my own) and was slapped with a late fee.

My brother in law was correct. He once told me that if money in Finland moved, it was taxed. However, I really didn’t have a problem with that, and as with my immigration problem I paid my euros and moved forward.

The troubles began when I tried to pursue my rights as a student. For example, there is the issue with my student card.

The student card is a valuable commodity here in Finland. It offers you things like low cost  meals in all the Finnish universitues and  half-pricet train ickets. In addition, you can use the student health services anywhere.

One of my more cynical Finnish acquaintances told me that in truth a lot of students aren’t really serious about their studies. They just want the cheap hockey tickets.

In my case, though, I really did want to study.  More on that later.

I was confused about how to get this valued student card. For one thing, my university is 200 kilometers away from the city I live and work in. It was hard for me to learn this from my home city.

One day I bit the bullet and paid full fare on the train and went to talk to some people at my university. I experienced that day what I have told others: part of the merit represented by your university degree is the courage and moxie you conjured up to navigate the bureaucracy.

One office led to the next, led to the photo booth, led to the train station, led to the Otto (the Finnish ATM), where I had to keep pulling out money to pay everyone who had their hand out for the fees I had to pay. (I am being facetious. I didn’t use that much cash.)

All this was necessary, however. I have discovered that in Finland there is a subtle cultural nuance I call  “don’t ask, don’t tell”. If you don’t ask, they won’t tell.

I finally learned that I had to pay the student card fee at my bank and apply for the card online. The nice people at my student union even took my snapshot for free and sent it to me in an Email.

(What wasn’t free was the charge for using the teller to transfer my money to the student union. My wife did all the banking on my last tour here and I didn’t know it costs 5 euros each time you go to a real person for something you can do at the ATM or online.)

This whole affair took place about six to eight weeks ago. I still do not have my student card.

First, there was a delay due to some technical glitch in the process involved in actually making the thing.   When it was finally ready, it was delivered to my student union –200 kilometers away.

Now I knew this would happen. Thus, I arranged for someone to pick it up and mail it to me.

It was put in the mail about 10 days ago. Now I know it is Christmas season and all and mail runs slow, but good grief (hyvänen aika!).

I am beginning to wonder if what has been suggested concerning my wife’s green card could have occurred with my student card. Could it have been stolen? After all, it is a valuable commodity!

I have trouble believing that. One of the most important values in Finland, if not THE most important, is honesty.

Nuts! People will find a pair of mittens at the bus stop and hang them neatly there so that the person who suffered the misfortune of losing them can retrieve them.

As one of my students told me when I mentioned this: “They may need them.”  I think any red blooded American could tell you what would happen to said mittens in a place like New York or Chicago.

As for my studies? I haven’t made any headway.

I tried to learn what I was supposed to do. I visited my international student advisor and Emailed my professor.

The latter was helpful, but could only really offer suggestions. The latter didn’t answer me.

This is typical I believe of the university professor in Finland. To be fairl, they are an extremely busy lot and don’t have a lot of time to answer inane questions from non-Finnish speaking international students.

This is part of the problem, if not THE problem. My language skills stink.  I am dogged enough to find the answer somewhere if I can. It’s just I can’t understand most of what I read, or even know where to look.

Some things are in English, such as the student union organization website. However, details found in the course catalog you can forget comprehending without a knowledge of the language.

It’s my own fault. As my boss told me recently,”You’re not motivated enough.”

She is right. I work in English all day. I can get by without Finnish.  I can even shop for pickles without it. And that’s just what I have gotten due to my poor Finnish.

A Finnish student would crush any pickles like the one I encountered with my student card. They speak the language!

 

Chapter 7

 Finn kicked at the rat, which was the size of a small cat.

He had been aboard the hulk for a couple of weeks now, witnessing the horrors and privations of his fellow inmates. The weak didn’t last long.

Thankfully, he was allowed to stay in the company of Daniel and Jonathan Plowman. Otherwise, the situation would have been unbearable.

The guards were brutes. Plus, they were plain ignorant.

These men, if you wished to call them that, took pleasure in treating the prisoners badly. Run afoul of one of these louts and you risked getting your head beat in.

One prisoner had gotten in an argument with a huge guard the day before. He disappeared overnight and Finn hadn’t seen him since.

Theguards weren’t so stupid that they couldn’t be bribed, however. Plowman had promised one of them some free grog which was aboard one of his ships in exchange for a quill and some paper.

“You know what will happen to you if I don’t get my grog, mate”, said the guard as he handed them over.

“No doubt, friend. But you must know I have friends on the outside”, said Plowman.

“You’d better.”

“Nice fellow. Some mother’s son, hey Jon?”, said Daniel.

“Barely”, said Plowman. “Here you go, Finn. Write your girl. As part of the bargain, that dunderhead agreed to post it.”

“Thanks, Jon. Much obliged,” said Finn.

He began to write:

“Dear Hildy,

How is my tender friend?  My soul is anguished to be apart from you.

We are separated by a great sea. Yet, that same sea was made by our Creator, who rules the waves.

In my present state, I think it best to get right to the point and tell you that I myself am being tossed about by the billows.

I presently make a hulk in Baltimore harbor my home. It is a wretched place. But dear soul, the Lord is with me.

He has given to me through the efforts of my new friend  Jonathan Plowman  the materials needed to communicate with you. Oh, how I wish it were face to face.

I can picture in my mind the walks by the castle, arm in arm. It seems that in His Providence it may be some time before I can have that pleasure again.

Our Lord Jesus Christ, whom we both love with all of our hearts, told us that He has sent us out as lambs among wolves. I reside with them now.

In a place such as this, where death is in the air, there are open hearts. In this respect, God has used me to plant a seed here for His Gospel.

The guards here are foul beings. Yet, Jesus Christ has even given me a concern for them.

Some I have been able to tell of His love. Mostly I receive in return venom and blasphemes.

However, one or two have have given me a  hearing. These have begun to engage in some reform, even to the point of some kindnesses to me.

Our Lord has also comforted me with the presence of my dear cousin Daniel and of course Plowman. Without them I would be hard pressed.

My copy of the Bible, which I keep in my jacket  has been a great comfort to me. It has been difficult to read in this dark place, but there have been moments where it has been possible.

My imprisonment is not just. But I leave that to God, who has said that vengeance belongs to Him.

I am in much prayer that in some way He will effect my release. It is my daily hope, especially that  I can endeavor to meet up with you again.

Our sufferings in this world are great, but His kingdom is what is the important thing. May His will be done.

I must take my leave of writing now. I bring you before the throne of grace every hour and ask that you continue to do the same for me.  Remember your friend and brother in this place.    

To Him be the honor and glory, forever.

With heartfelt love,

Finn Laverty”

Tears welled up in Finn’s eyes as he folded the letter. Yet, there was a certain joy, too.

Perhaps some good would come from this imprisonment. He certainly had been closer to God due to it than he had been in many years.

“Hey, cousin, does your true love have a sister?”, said Daniel.

“No, sorry Daniel.  She is an only child. You are not much of a prospect at this point anyway, are you.”

The guard returned. His face was like that of an angry dog.

“Damned captain. Won’t let me have my shore leave”, he said.

“Here’s my friend’s letter”, said Plowman. “Please post it when you do get off this ship. Remember, there’s some spirits in it for you.”

“To hell with the letter and your grog”, said the guard. He ripped the letter into small pieces, which lay on the floor.”

“You …”, began Plowman. He was stopped by a tug at his arm from Finn.

The guard marched away.

“Sorry, friend”, said Plowman.

“It was one of my finest , too”, said Finn.

This blogger is participating in National Novel Writing Month, which began on November 1. The goal is to write a 50,000 word plus novel in 30 days. This is an excerpt of his endeavor.

Chapters 5 and 6

Chapter 5

Daniel spotted him in the inn right away.

“Jon, you old wharf rat. Where have you been hiding your ornery self –respectfully, that is?”

Jonathan Plowman looked amusingly at his young friend.

“Staying out of trouble, Daniel. Who is this young fellow?”

“May I introduce my cousin Finn Laverty, from the old country. And you know John Stevenson.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir. More recently, I hail from Virginia”, Finn said.

“Ah, the king’s home port”, said Plowman. “I won’t hold that against you, or your Irish blood”, the older man added with a smile on his face”.

“Oh please, Jonathan”, said Daniel. “Finn, this man is almost as Irish as you and I. He is one of Doctor Stevenson’s best friends, and his cousin to boot”, said Daniel.

“Tis true, Mr. Laverty. My mother was  the sister of John’s  father’.”

“Call me Finn, sir.”

“And you can call me Jon, Finn.”

“Please gentleman, sit down.  I’ve ordered us some dinner.”

A Negro servant came out with some stew and side dishes.

“Looks like I may take up my own trade again soon, Daniel,” said Plowman, as he chewed on a pickle. “We’ve just replaced one king with another.”

“Jon was a privateer during the war. There’s no love lost between him and the British”, said Daniel.

“To think that a man like George Washington would renounce democratic principles,” said Jon. “Ten years ago he helped me get a ship back which the British navy had stolen out from under me.”

“Now he’s made of the same cloth”, said Finn. “His hooligans destroyed my print shop in Virginia after I printed some material he didn’t take kindly to.”

“Well, you know my boy, I am not so sure King George knows everything that’s going on”, replied Plowman. “He has been getting a lot of bad advice from some of his Continental Army blokes.”

“Jon’s the man that told me about the General’s acceptance of the crown, Finn. On top of being a good thief, he is also a pretty damned good spy,” said Daniel.

A messenger came in to the inn looking for Dr. Stevenson.

“Gotta go boys. Mrs. Phelan is about to have her little one.” Stevenson walked out the door.

“I’ve learned a little more since we last talked, Daniel. I know who the ringleader is.”

“Well don’t just stand there Jon. Tell us so we can deal with the bastard,” said Daniel.

“The man is a Colonel out of Philadelphia by the name of Nicola. Apparently he has been browbeating the General on the need for a monarchy. Seems he doesn’t believe the masses can be trusted.”

“Well, Jon, I think we need some of those masses to help us convince them of his wrong thinking”, said Finn.

“Well, I would have just the men for such an endeavor. However, they are locked away on a hulk in the harbor.”

“Mary and Joseph, Jon. That was a death sentence under the Brits”, said Daniel.

“It’s pretty much the same business with the new royals, too. These men need to be saved. They are heroes of the revolution. They served with me on the ships I took out to raid the British.”

“So what to do you propose, sir?”, asked Finn.

“I propose that we row out to that damned ship and take it over.”

“Easier said than done, wouldn’t you say?”, said Daniel.

“Under normal circumstances, yes. But I have been making a plan with some of the boys who escaped capture and have gone underground. You’re welcome to get in on it.”

“Now you’re talking, sir!”, said Finn. ‘It’s about time I had the chance to take a swipe at those debutante royals.”

“Well, the more the merrier, I’d say,” said Daniel. “How many men can we muster, Jon?”

“With the sailor boys and some of the servants who owe me, I would guess about 50.”

“Who will be leading the assault?”, asked Daniel.

“If you had your sea legs, I would ask you to do it. But since you are a landlubber, I have my second in charge. I’m a little to old to be engaging in combat.”

There was a loud bang on the door to the inn and suddenly about 20 troops rushed in the door.

“Good day, Mr. Plowman”, said a handsome blonde gentleman in a well-tailored Continental uniform.

“Captain Ridgely. What brings you down from Hampton with such a fine array of talent?”

“I think you know, Plowman. It’s time you join your men out in the harbor.”

“Can I have a tart, first, Charles?  I haven’t even finished my  meal.”

Plowman, Finn and Daniel were  put in cuffs and rushed out the door.

 Chapter 6

The ship entered the Patapsco River slowly on a beautiful November day. It was unseasonably warm and sunny for Baltimore.

“It was a good voyage, Mary”, said Hildy.

“You are right about that, Hildy. Look, there’s the town!”, said Mary.

From a distance, the city looked crowded. The place was jammed tight with shops, warehouses and ships.

Their own vessel pulled up in Fells Point. The inner harbor itself was too shallow for large ships.

Coming down the gangplank, the two ladies drank in the scene.  The neighborhood was made up of narrow streets and quaint row houses.

“Is someone meeting you, Mary.”

“Yes, a person from the group that employed me is supposed to come here and help me get settled. What about you?”

“A merchant known by my father is to meet me. I am to board with the family during my stay.”

Mary saw a woman holding a sign with her name and the name of the organization employing her: Plowman and Stevenson.

“Hello, I am Mary Sweeny,” she said to the young woman.

“Chloe White. Pleased to meet you.”

“Will I see you again, Mary?”, asked Hildy.

“I hope so. The town can’t be that big.”

“All the best, my dear.”

Mary clung to her bag and followed Chloe out of the dock area.

Hildy began to look for her own host. After a short walk she saw a man about her father’s age holding a sign with her name on it.

“Welcome, Miss MacCool. I am James McCormick.”

“Oh, thank you so much Mr. McCormick.”

“How is your father? I have known him through my business for a number of years.”

“He is in good health, sir.”

“Good. Please come with me.  I will take you home, introduce you to my family and get you settled.”

The next morning at breakfast,  Mrs. McCormick and Hildy talked over porridge and cider.

“What brings you to Maryland, Miss MacCool? It’s a long voyage for one as young as you, and just a girl, too.”

“I have come to bring my intended home, Mrs. McCormick. But first I have to find him.”

“You mean you do not know where he is? That’s astonishing and a little perplexing that you would come here and not know that.”

“Well, ma’am, his home is in Virginia. However, the last letter I got from him said he was in Baltimore with a cousin from here.”

“Do you know the name of the cousin?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well, when James comes home tonight I believe he might be able to help you. He is well connected in the city of Baltimore.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

After a day of unpacking, getting  her belongings in order and helping Mrs. McCormick with chores, Hildy discussed her search with James McCormick.

“Have some more potatoes and eggs, dear”, Mrs. McCormick said to Hildy. “You are so thin you could blow away in the breeze.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Now, Hildy, what is the name of this cousin of Finn’s?”, asked James.

“His name is Daniel Connell, from County Antrim like me and Finn.”

“Well, Hildy, there is one man who knows a lot of the Irish in town. He brings many of them over as indentured servants.”

“Oh, I met a young lady on the ship I came over on who was employed as one.”

“It’s probable that Dr. John Stevenson brought her here.”

“Yes, I remember the name on the sign held by the girl that met her-it had the name ‘Stevenson’ on it.”

“That would be ‘Plowman and Stevenson’.  Dr. Stevenson’s office is down on Charles Street. Let’s go there in the morning and ask him if he has heard of him.”

The next morning Hildy and James arrived at John Stevenson’s office about 9 am. His waiting room was already full of patients.

Coming in to the room to call the next sick person, Stevenson was greeted by James.

“Good morning, doctor. I am sorry to disturb your busy schedule, but I have someone I would like you to meet.”

“You are always welcome, James, as are any friends of yours.” He looked at Hildy.

“How do you do? I am Dr. John Stevenson.”

“Pleased to meet you, doctor. My name is Hildy MacCool.”

“Hildy just came here from Ulster, John. She is looking for someone from there, and given your contacts I thought there would be a good chance you would know his whereabouts. He is with his cousin, a man from Baltimore named Daniel Connell.”

Stevenson gave James and Hildy  a startled look.

“Daniel Connell was rounded up last month by the Continentals  with my partner Jonathan Plowman.  Is your friend’s name Finn?”

“Why yes!”, said Hildy.

“My guess is that he is with them. I was having dinner with all three when I was called away on a case. Those at the inn tell me they were hauled off in cuffs after I left.”

Hildy began to cry.

“Now, now, my dear. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Dr. Stevenson, do you have any idea where they might be?”

“My sources tell me they may be out in the harbor on the prison hulk.”

“I need to get him out of there!  What can I do?”, said Hildy.

“Very little, young lady.  Leave it to me. I will keep you informed.”

This blogger is participating in National Novel Writing Month, which began on November 1. The goal is to write a 50,000 word plus novel in 30 days. This is an excerpt of his endeavor

Chapter 4

 Every Saturday Hildy MacCool took a walk by the sea. It helped clear her head.

Today was particularly cool, a sign that winter was not far away.  She held the letter in her hand to her cheek.

She had opened it as she passed Atrium’s tall, grey round tower on the way to the beach. While she had been excited about receiving the letter, the contents now  wrinkled her brow.

“Why, that Finn Laverty. He is stubborn as a mule!”, she thought. She looked at the letter and read it again.

“Dearest Hildy,

My love for you cannot be expressed with this pen. Were I to be able to walk the glen with you, I would be the happiest man on earth.

You are the most charming of women.  To have gained your regard is to me a miracle of miracles.

I am now in Baltimore with my cousin Daniel Connell. We met in Virginia as the war with the British concluded.

What had appeared to be a light to all mankind, and ours, has been dimmed by recent events. But it is not for you to worry your dear heart about such matters.

For me, these happenings will not stand. I have travelled hundreds of miles from my home in the mountains to see if I cannot do something about them.

Our future rides in the balance. Should I fail, be assured that my heart will sing of you in heaven.

Your lover,

Finn Laverty”

Hildy sat in the sand and wept. She mumbled to herself, “What has that fool boy gotten himself into?”

Finn rubbed his arm, which ached from the puncture.

“That should keep you from dying before your time, young man”, said Dr. John Stevenson.  He had just administered a smallpox inoculation to his patient.

“Can you do anything about the royal germ, doctor?”. Finn looked at the physician with what Daniel called his “pervasive air of disgust.”

“Why, I think he can cousin. Why do you think I wore out our behinds on those horses coming up here?”, said Daniel.

“Well, I may not be able to give you a shot for the King George disease, Finn, but I can introduce you to someone who is as perturbed as you over the matter.  I’ve arranged for us to meet him”, said Stevenson.

“Good, doc!  Tá mo bhríste trí thine!”, said Finn.

“C’mon, Finn, you know my Gaelic is pretty thin,” said, Stevenson.

“He said his pants were on fire”, laughed Daniel.

“Well, despite your overuse of the enemy tongue doctor, you are still a mick”, said Finn.

“Except I’m a Presybyterian, Finn.”

“Won’t hold that against ya, doctor. Before we leave your apothecary, I am wondering if you have another kind of medicine.”

“I think he is talking about the kind you give for a broken heart”, said Daniel.

“Woman trouble me lad?”, asked Stevenson.

“Yes, doc’. I got a letter from her this morning. I miss her terribly.”

“The only shot I know that works for that Finn is whiskey. Let’s meet at Fells Point at noon and I’ll buy you a few rounds, and introduce you to a fellow democrat.”

Finn and Daniel walked out of Dr. Stevenson’s office into the autumn air.

“Finn, I will see you at the hotel for lunch. I’m hobbling over to Pratt Street to see about a new pistol.”

“All right”, Finn nodded.

As he walked by the harbor, Finn took out the letter from Hildy.  He sat down near a ship loading sugar and read it for at least the 5^th time:

“Mr Laverty,

It was with great anticipation that I opened your letter. Knowing it was from you, I could not wait to read the contents.

If what you wrote in regards to me is based on truth and honor, I will consider myself to be the happiest woman in Ireland.

Given the state of affairs there, come home. I am waiting for you hear in Ulster.

Yours, with all sincerity

Hildy MacCool”

“For crying out loud”, thought Finn. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Putting the letter back in his jacket, Finn took out his Bible. When he was low, he read the Psalms.

Randomly opening the text, Finn read Psalm 55.

“Listen to my prayer, O God.

Do not ignore my cry for help!

Please listen and answer me, for I am overwhelmed by my troubles.”

Finn paused for a minute and prayed. “Lord, you surely know this to be true about my troubles are great. Help me!”

He read on.

“How quickly I would escape-far away from this wild storm of hatred.”

Finn thought,”Heading home would give me relief.”

He looked back at the worn page.

“It is not an enemy who taunts me—I could bear that.

It is not my foes who so arrogantly insult me-I could have hidden from them.

Instead, it is you –my equal, my companion and close friend.

What good fellowship we enjoyed as we walked together to the house of God.”

“Oh Hildy, why do you do this to me?”, Finn moaned.

He couldn’t abandon his new life in America. Couldn’t Hildy see that.  What kind of life would they have back under British oppression in Ireland?

Finn took one last glance at the Psalm:

“Give your burdens to the Lord and he will take care of you. He will not permit the godly to slip and fall.”

“OK, Lord. I get the message. Just help me convince Hildy.”

He got up and walked past the harbor warehouses and headed toward Fells Point.

This blogger is participating in National Novel Writing Month, which began on November 1. The goal is to write a 50,000 word plus novel in 30 days. This is an excerpt of his endeavor.

Chapter 3

Brigadier General  Lewis Nicola sat in his study, studying a map of the fort of Poltava in the Ukraine. The Russians had defended the place successfully 7o years before and defeated King Charles of Sweden, forcing his flight to the Ottoman Empire.

Nicola held his magnifying glass as he studied the map. His hand shook.

Nicola was not well, having endured heavy stress for a man of 67 years of age. He had kept very busy during the Revolution for an old age pensioner.

Using  his engineering skills, he had mapped out  British defenses of Philadelphia after they had occupied the city. In addition, Nicola had translated some key French texts concerning military strategy which helped the American army immensely.

He had also led the Infirmed Corp during the conflict, a unit containing soldiers who could only engage in limited military duty.  He had not slowed down since the outbreak of hostilities and was very tired.

Nicola was well known in his hometown of Philadelphia. He was once the mayor, and ran one of the largest libraries in North America.

What the public didn’t know was that he had played a key role in convincing General George Washington to dispense with his strong opposition to monarchy. Nicola had written a letter to the General two years before decrying the state of the Continental government and army.

The letter had decried the sufferings of those in the military and made no secret of Nicola’s distaste for republican government.

Washington had originally rebuked Nicola in a reply letter.  The great patriot had changed wonderfully since that correspondence.

The General had come around. He had come to believe in the wisdom put forth by Nicola and other officers of the Continental Army.

The door to Nicola’s study opened and a man with an angular face stood before him. William Bradford walked to the desk.

“How are you, General?”, asked Bradford.

“Now, William, don’t use these high and mighty  labels with me, my friend. Care for a drink.”

“I’ll drink with you anytime, Lewis.”

“Good. I just imported some fine Shnapps from Bavaria. Sit. Sit.”

“To what what or whom shall we toast, Lewis.”

“To King George the First of America, of course.”

Their glasses clinked together.

“Have you seen these, Lewis?”

Bradford pulled some literature out of his case.

“They are some incendiary pamphlets from Virginia. The writer calls himself ‘Culann’s Hound’.”

‘ Why, that’s the great Irish warrior of myth. I read about him growing up in Dublin.”

“I’m surprised your father let you read such things, Lewis.”

“Oh, my father loved the stories, though he did spend a lot of time beating Irish heads.”

“Well, his son may have to do the same. These  rags are attacking  the king as a turncoat to the Revolution.”

“I’m weary of conflict, William. But the new monarchy can’t abide any opposition.”

After Bradford left, Nicola visited took a walk around the corner to the headquarters of the Infirmed Corp.  Several of the men were lounging about, some of them as old as Nicola, and some with handicaps

“Attention!”, cried Colonel Robert Nelson.

“At ease, boys. Colonel, may I have a word?”

The two stepped into the Corps office.

“We need to send some men to Virginia, Robert. There’s some hothead down there publishing drivel against the king.”

Nicola showed Nelson the pamphlets.

“Why, the bloody traitor”, said Nelson. “I’ll ride down that way tomorrow and take care of the rebel.”

“You do that”, said Nicola.

It had been a long day for Finn. He had been hours shearing Samuel Black’s sheep.

As he mounted his horse to head for the tavern for a good meal, some men came running.

“Mary and Joseph, boys, why  such a hurry?”

“Come quick, Finn”, said his neighbor Johan Kerchner. “Your print shop’s on fire.”

Finn ran quickly and found a group of men passing buckets of water. One of them was his cousin Daniel.

“Looks like you played with fire, cousin.”

“What do you mean?”, said Finn.

“Looks like King George’s army has taken notice of some of your work.”

Johan said,”I was walking down our street 30 minutes ago when ten Continentals, many of them long in the tooth, rode  into town. They held a musket to my head and asked me if there was a man who called himself Culann around here. They held this to my face.”

Johan held up a copy of one of Finn’s pamphlets.

“I’m sorry, Finn. But I was scared to death so I pointed out your shop. They wrecked the place and then set it on fire. I would have come sooner, but they tied me up.”

“That’s true, Finn. I came upon this ole German bound and gagged about 10 minutes ago.”

“Royal bastards”, said Finn.

“They told me to tell you that the next time one of these pamphlets are published, it’ll be more than your shop that gets damaged,” Johan said.

“C’mon cousin, you can stay with me for now”,  said Daniel.

The next morning, Finn and Daniel sat around the table drinking tea and spooning some oatmeal.

“What are ye going to do now, Finn? Looks like those royals have you cornered.”

“Not on your life, Daniel. If they want to play rough, then so be it.”

“What in tarnation do you mean, Finn? What can you do? You are only one man.”

“Well, cousin, they say that the pen is mightier than the sword. It doesn’t look like it in my case. I’m going to recruit me some company.”

“You’re looking to get your head chopped off, Finn.”

“I need your help, Daniel.”

“Oh no you  don’t. I’m not sticking my head in the noose with you, cousin”.

Daniel’s blue eyes gazed at Finn.

“Surely you know some army buddies that didn’t fight this war to end up with a bloody king?”

Daniel ran his head through his long brown hair.

“Yep. There were a lot of men in the dragoons who loved George Washington, but not as a man with a crown on his head. They thought of the General as one of their own, republican through and through.”

“Well, let’s get crackin’ Daniel. Where do we find these blokes.”

“I have an idea. Get your bedroll together, Finn. We’re hittin’ the trail.”

This blogger is participating in National Novel Writing Month, which began on November 1. The goal is to write a 50,000 word plus novel in 30 days. This is an excerpt of his endeavor.

Chapter 2

Daniel slurped his ale. His huge hands grasped the cup as if it were a thimble.

“Cheer up, cousin. It takes time to build castles”, he said.

Finn leaned  his cheek on his left hand.

“The only castles I want to see are the ones I build. I come all the way over here, leave my Mum and Dad and my dear Hildy, and it comes to this.”

“Well, surely the royals aren’t  about to stir things up out here. There’s too many radicals.”

“Don’t be so sure, cousin. That’s what our dear Irish ancestors thought before the English crossed the sea.

“For the love of God, Daniel. How did this happen?  I thought George Washington was as pure as the rest.”

“Oh, he’s a good man, Finn. But his closest officers convinced him that the Congress was full of baloney.”

“Well may the new King George fall without rising. Are you hungry Daniel?”

“No, but I am thirsty. Let’s have another !”

John Fitzgerald, the proprietor of Fitz’s Tavern walked to the table and placed a pint in front of his guest.

“What do you make of this ‘King George’ business, Fitzy?”, asked Finn.

“I don’t like it, Finn. But, as they say, if you want to keep your head, best to ‘hear much and say little’.

“True, Fitz. But even the quiet cat has to drink milk. Our new sovereign comes from royal blood, and his relatives have shown what they think of the Irish.”

“Daniel, how and when did you learn about all this “King of America” business?”, asked Fitz.

“I was up in New York  in December and about ready to muster out of the dragoons. The last enemy soldier had left only a few days before. My colonel. Benny Tallmadge, a good man, was invited to a meeting at a tavern. After it was over, he came to his officers and told us that General Washington has been persuaded to become a monarch.”

“Those officers of Washington must have had the gift of the gab”, said Finn.

“Why did they do it?”, asked Fitz.

“They were quite angry. Much of the army hasn’t been paid in a coon’s age, and Congress was still dragging it’s feet.”

“Well, you can’t blame them there,” said Fitz. “But surely a few angry men couldn’t  make Washington throw away everything he had fought for.”

“Well, there’s the rub, Fitz. Washington had actually given a farewell address to the Army in November. He told them that he sympathized with all the hardships and privations, but he asked them to return home and be good citizens of the new republic.”

“So how did a few teed off officers change his mind?”, asked Finn.

“Well, it wasn’t their wrath that turned the General’s head. He stood up and took notice though when they told him that they would keep the army together and take what Congress wouldn’t give them by force of arms.”

Finn erupted. “To hell with them. They sound just like those they just handed their hats to!”

He threw his cup against the wall.

“You’re very angry and I’m getting very drunk, cousin. Get us some cups of tea, Fitz. We need to decide our course of action here.”

“Keep a lid on it, Finn, said Fitz. I don’t want any trouble in here tonight. It’s been a long day.”

Fitz brought the tea and went  to serve a couple of farmers.

“So what do you have in mind, Captain O’Connell?”

“Well, I’ve a mind to head to the Ohio country. The new king has promised land out in that wildnerness to his veterans.”

“Well that doesn’t do me much good, Daniel. I never fired a weapon in this war.”

“You could come with me and help me get settled. Once we’re done making up the place, I’ll give you a piece of property all nice and legal.”

“Suit yourself, Daniel. But I want to make my own way in this new world. I don’t want to be beholden to you or the new King George. Why would you take his land since there’s obviously no love lost between you and the idea of a new royal personage.”

“How much can they touch me out there in Indian country, Finn?”

“Maybe not now, cousin. But give the king a few years. He’ll find a way to put his sovereign fingers on you.”

“Well, I suppose we could go back to the old country –Ireland forever!”

“Not a good idea, Daniel. Don’t you recall why we left there in the first place. I got tired of having a rope put around my neck and watching my pals having their hair singed.”

“Well, where does that leave us, Finn? What do you propose?”

“Daniel, me lad, there’s only one thing to do. We stay and we fight.”

“Now you’re talkin’ old sod. The only question is how. Let’s get some more ale and figure that one out.”

Daniel signaled Fitz for another round.

This blogger is participating in National Novel Writing Month, which began on November 1. The goal is to write a 50,000 word plus novel in 30 days. This is an excerpt of his endeavor.