TerryWalstrom

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Posts by TerryWalstrom

• 
  10

  (Not?) Hypnotized

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  what you are about to read i've never told anyone before.. why?

  because it is mysterious.. mostly because it is a bit like the corner of your eye.

  you see movement there but you won't be reciting any eye chart letters.what you read next is sort of like that.i don't like to be vague.

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  TerryWalstrom

  Our senses are a window to our world. If the "glass is dirty" our view is distorted.
  We've all heard something (or thought we heard) which turned out not to be accurate. We thought we saw, but it wasn't what we say we saw.
  
  If our memory is an unreliable narrator our entire life is a series of ruined records. This I fear most as my oldest and dearest friends die off.
  Comparing memories of events shared always served to sharpen verification.
  So many times, people have asked me, "How in the world did you remember that?" The things I think I remember, once I remind the others involved, becomes veridical.
  
  Alzheimer patients lose the life they lived--as far as corroborating incidents brought to mind--and the tragedy is experienced by their loved ones. However, most of my recollections don't amount to a handkerchief full of snot. Meaning: it doesn't matter to anybody else but me.
  
  My writing these last few years has consisted of incremental recollections of events meaningful only to me. "Some" others find them interesting (they say) and I'm only too eager to share if it means I can exercise my mania for writing these details.
  
  When Marcel Proust wrote REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST he set the literary world on fire. When I write, my equally mundane observations earn more shrugs than hugs.
  
  I've wondered for years why in the world I wrote that incredibly wonky and weird book in such a manic flurry. That dream the other night is all I can say I've come up with that satisfies (barely) that curiosity.
  
  I'll finish by saying how convinced I was that I saw a different ending to a NIGHT GALLERY episode "SILENT SNOW SECRET SNOW" than everyone else saw. I tried every way I could to prove an alternate ending was shown on TV. I was (and remain) shocked no such ending ever happened although it is vivid in memory.
  
  This makes me question my own sanity. Of course, it's unimportant.
  To everybody but me it is unimportant, I should say :)
• 
  10

  (Not?) Hypnotized

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  what you are about to read i've never told anyone before.. why?

  because it is mysterious.. mostly because it is a bit like the corner of your eye.

  you see movement there but you won't be reciting any eye chart letters.what you read next is sort of like that.i don't like to be vague.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  I tend to have an "opinion" on everything.
  Not in this instance. Haven't got a clue.
  
  I have spent the morning watching informative (?) videos about what hypnotism IS and ISN'T and I'm still in the dark.
  
  As JW's you know we were told it is "binding others with a spell" and I completely reject superstitious drivel like that.
  
  Supposedly, the more intelligent a person is the more susceptible to the hypnotic suggestion they become. I don't exactly see any inherent truth in that other than making you ashamed to NOT be hypnotized.
  
  The more I think about it, the more convinced I am hypnosis is "something". Ha! Where does that get me?
  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EnojE1R4jKw
• 
  10

  (Not?) Hypnotized

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  what you are about to read i've never told anyone before.. why?

  because it is mysterious.. mostly because it is a bit like the corner of your eye.

  you see movement there but you won't be reciting any eye chart letters.what you read next is sort of like that.i don't like to be vague.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  What you are about to read I've never told anyone before.

  Why? Because it is mysterious.

  Mostly because it is a bit like the corner of your eye.
  You see movement there but you won't be reciting any Eye Chart letters.
  What you read next is sort of like that.
  I don't like to be vague. In fact, I tend to be overly fussy about details.
  If you ask me about a movie I watched, you'll have to grab me and slap me to get me to shut up.
  (Unless you just wanted to slap me in the first place.)
  _____
  It was around 1980.
  My wife and I were at a party at her friend's house.
  I didn't like those friends. Not at all!
  To my way of thinking (I'm White trash raised) these were pretentious people, show-offs, lah-dee-dah.

  They lived in a house in a part of town THEY referred to as (are you ready for this?) "Beverly Hills adjacent."
  Yeah.
  That's like my avatar photo on Facebook with me leaning on the hood of a Rolls Royce. A big joke!
  I digress...
  The Kellers were Hollywood connected because Anton had one job a year connected with the Academy Awards. He was the main Producer of the ceremonies. (According to him.)

  (I did watch the credits at the end and he WAS a big deal in that regard.)
  One job a year. Okaaay. Good for you.

  The party was not filled with celebrities. No no no. Celebrities wouldn't be caught dead at the Keller's house. Only persons with rather tenuous connections (like me) were invited. My guess that's because Anton Keller would be the person with the most glamorous stories.

  "So, Terry, when does this story begin?"
  Okay. Okay. Right now.
  ______

  The Kellers had invited a hypnotist to this party. Her name was Pat Collins. She was called the Hip Hypnotist. She had a nightclub on Sunset Strip where she told everybody she earned about four or five thousand dollars a week.
  (How un-chic.)

  Collins was Bimboesque in appearance. Not sexy. A wig and too much eye make up. That sort of thing. I was itching to get out of there because I DID NOT BELIEVE in hypnotism.

  That's where I went wrong. I opened my big mouth. I said it out loud. (How un-chic.)

  The word spread instantly like fire in the dead grass of the Hollywood Hills.

  I was challenged, of course.
  What follows is why I've never told this story.
  I'm unsure of the details.
  ______

  The next thing you know, I'm lying down on a couch. Every damn pair of non-celebrity eyes is on me like I'm a patient in a teaching facility about to have a frontal lobotomy.

  Here is what I remember. Or at least what I THINK I remember...

  I was asked to close my eyes and relax. (Oh brother.)
  I was supposed to imagine a big red balloon with a string tied on to my wrist.

  "When I start counting backward from 10, you will feel the balloon tugging on your wrist as it lifts up higher and higher into the air."

  Okay, let's stop right here.
  What I say next is what I THINK IS TRUE.
  At that instant, as Pat Collins the Hip Hypnotist is counting backward, I get a weird idea in my head.

  "Why don't I PRETEND to go along with this just for fun?"
  _____
  "10-9-8-7-6-5..."

  I imagined myself as a Method Actor.
  I contacted my "sense memory."
  I "pretended" to lift my wrist and my arm ever-so-slo-w-ly.
  For my audience of not-celebrities, this was amusing.

  And at this moment, the "me" part of my memory switches off because--I think I fell asleep for a few seconds.

  I opened my eyes suddenly.
  I'm standing up.
  Everybody in the room is applauding with huge smiles.

  So, I took a lavish theatrical bow and remember thinking to myself, "These idiots are entertained by THAT??"

  Here is where my story gets weird.
  ______

  My wife started wanting to hypnotize me HERSELF.
  She was an artist--not a hypnotist. No training.

  It's like she once saw somebody performing brain surgery and thought to herself, "This looks like something I can do."

  Stupid me. I went along with it.
  At least, I "think" I went along with it.

  I only vaguely remember she'd always begin with the stupid red balloon tied to my wrist thingy. Then rather prying, intimate questions were being asked and I'd "pretend" to fall asleep so I didn't have to answer.

  Now--why am I telling you this?
  It is because I just woke up this morning from a fresh dream.
  Inside the dream, my wife was hypnotizing me and I heard her asking the following questions.

  "What would you most like to achieve?"

  "I want to be a writer."

  "Describe that for me."

  "I want to walk down the sidewalk and see a big bookstore with a window filled with stacks of my latest book and a giant photograph of me with the words, 'Book-signing today' and I'll walk inside to see a huge banner with the title of my Science Fiction book and lots of red balloons..."

  I woke up very excited!
  This morning I remember WHY I wrote and how I wrote
  The Monorails of Mars.

  I hypnotized myself.
  I let a subterranean mental trance write the book.
  (Yes, I know how incredibly stupid that sounds.)

  Every day, week in and week out--for months. I'd close my eyes and imagine the bookstore window, the banner, and those red balloons and then---I'd begin to write and not stop writing for hours and hours.

  When I came to the ending--I remember sobbing, crying, wiping tears away with a runny nose!
  It was so profoundly traumatic!

  I don't remember--REALLY--any part of writing that book until it was finished and I sighed heavily and told my friend, Quentin,
  "This book just WROTE ITSELF."

  ______
  When I started reading it, strange feelings began.
  I had to stop.
  To this day...
  I confess...
  I have NOT consciously read my own book.
  Weird? Hell yes.
  I have pulled little excerpts out of it and scanned the paragraphs for errors and such. Those parts I've read in a detached and clinical way.

  But I want to give away the secret to the ending here and now.
  The entire book was being written inside the head of another person NOT in the book who is himself a famous writer, dying in a hospital bed. All his characters come to visit him in his mind. These characters, over many years, have TOLD him their stories. He didn't 'make them up.'

  That ending is a message to ME from my subconscious mind from all the parts of my life--telling me about my own life as an allegory.
  As strange as it sounds...
  Being a kid, reading Edgar Rice Burroughs, H.G. Wells, Ray Bradbury, joining a religious cult...it is all mixed into a hypnotic nightmare of what is straight out of my hypnotized mind and memories.

  In other words, my Monorails of Mars is a book only meant for me to read---a message from my mind--for me alone.

  I know it sounds idiotic.
  However, at last, I think I can understand: me.
  IF ONLY I could read my own book.

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• 
  14

  Murder in the Cathedral (Chess at Barnes & Noble)

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  i sat with my board and pieces like a new orleans hooker in a window with a red light, displaying my wanton intentions--eager for action.. last evening in barnes & noble.tuesdays the chess club meets there.. i arrived with my infamous black bag of pawns and rooks and other deadly concealed weapons of regicide--an old warrior in a strange land.. presently, a mother and her son stepped forward.

  he was about 12.____mother: “oh, sir--my son has become obsessed with the game of chess and i thought if hecould play some real games with experienced players he might enjoy that.

  would it be okay if kevin played a game with you?”.

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  TerryWalstrom

  Ra7-a8 was "mysterious".
  
  I'd describe it as a "temporizing" move when you don't think you have anything
  to do to improve your situation. Just killing time until your opponent makes a weak move.
  
  I DO REMEMBER that stupid AWAKE! article.
  I didn't know any JW's who actually played chess.
  Every once an awhile, the magazines would have an article which indicated mental illness

  on the part of the writer. We all just shrugged and went about our regular daily life.
  The 1972 World Championship in chess woke everybody up who was interested in chess

  and plenty of folks who didn't even know how it was played.
  
  The grand march to Armageddon was the main concern at that time since "75" was the big date.
  I was searching for my Dad in 72, but I stopped to watch the portion of the games televised.
  I didn't really get serious until the late 90's.
  Even so, making progress seemed beyond my grasp. Only lately have the threads come together better than before--mainly through watching Coffee Chess on YouTube :)
• 
  14

  Murder in the Cathedral (Chess at Barnes & Noble)

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  i sat with my board and pieces like a new orleans hooker in a window with a red light, displaying my wanton intentions--eager for action.. last evening in barnes & noble.tuesdays the chess club meets there.. i arrived with my infamous black bag of pawns and rooks and other deadly concealed weapons of regicide--an old warrior in a strange land.. presently, a mother and her son stepped forward.

  he was about 12.____mother: “oh, sir--my son has become obsessed with the game of chess and i thought if hecould play some real games with experienced players he might enjoy that.

  would it be okay if kevin played a game with you?”.

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  TerryWalstrom

  
  Jan 7 2018

  Terry: White

  1. d2-d4 g7-g6

  2. f2-f4 d7-d5

  3. Nb1-c3 Bc8-f5

  4. Bc1-e3 Ng8-f6

  5. h2-h3 Qd8-d6

  6. Ng1-f3 Qd6-b6

  7. Ra1-b1 h7-h5

  8. Be3-f2 Nb8-c6

  9. e2-e3 e7-e6

  10. Bf1-d3 Bf8-d6

  11. a2-a3 Bf5xd3

  12. c2xd3 Ra8-c8

  13. O-O a7-a6

  14. Rf1-e1 O-O

  15. Bf2-h4 Nf6-h7

  16. Nc3-e2 Kg8-g7

  17. e3-e4 d5xe4

  18. d3xe4 Bd6-e7

  19. Bh4-f2 Nh7-f6

  20. Nf3-g5 Kg7-h8

  21. Ne2-g3 h5-h4

  22. Ng3-e2 Kh8-g7

  23. Bf2xh4 Rf8-h8

  24. Bh4-f2 Rh8-f8

  25. Qd1-d2 Qb6-b3

  26. Bf2-e3 Rf8-d8

  27. Re1-c1 Rc8-a8

  28. Rc1-c3 Qb3-b5

  29. Kg1-f2 a6-a5

  30. Qd2-d3 Qb5xd3

  31. Rc3xd3 Ra8-a7

  32. Rb1-d1 b7-b6

  33. Rd3-c3 Nc6-b8

  34. Rd1-c1 c7-c6

  35. Kf2-f3 Rd8-c8

  36. a3-a4 Ra7-b7

  37. g2-g4 Be7-b4

  38. Rc3-c4 Rc8-e8

  39. h3-h4 b6-b5

  40. Rc4-c2 b5xa4

  41. Ne2-g3 Rb7-e7

  42. h4-h5 Re8-f8

  43. Rc1-h1 Rf8-h8

  44. e4-e5 Nf6-d5

  45. Be3-c1 Re7-b7

  46. Kf3-e4 Rb7-a7

  47. Rc2-h2 Rh8-h6

  48. h5xg6 Rh6xh2

  49. g6xf7 Rh2xh1

  50. Ng3xh1 Nd5-c7

  51. f4-f5 e6xf5+

  52. g4xf5 Kg7-f8

  53. f5-f6 Nb8-d7

  54. e5-e6 Nd7xf6+

  55. Ke4-e5 Nc7-d5

  56. Nh1-g3 Ra7-b7

  57. Ng3-f5 Nf6-g4+

  58. Ke5-e4 Ng4-f6+

  59. Ke4-e5 Nf6-g4+

  60. Ke5-e4 Nd5-f6+

  61. Ke4-f3 Rb7-a7

  62. Bc1-f4 Ra7-a8

  63. Bf4-e5 Ng4xe5+

  64. d4xe5 a4-a3

  65. e5xf6 a3xb2

  66. e6-e7+ Bb4xe7

  67. f6xe7#

  _____________________
  
  My offbeat "idea" with the rooks on the H-file led to the win.
  _____________________
  
  Black: Terry
  

  1. Ng1-f3 e7-e6

  2. c2-c4 c7-c5

  3. Qd1-b3 Qd8-b6

  4. Qb3xb6 a7xb6

  5. Nb1-c3 Ng8-f6

  6. g2-g3 d7-d5

  7. c4xd5 e6xd5

  8. h2-h3 Bf8-e7

  9. Nc3-b5 Nb8-a6

  10. Nf3-e5 O-O

  11. a2-a4 Nf6-d7

  12. Ne5-f3 Rf8-d8

  13. d2-d4 f7-f5

  14. Nb5-c3 Na6-b4

  15. Ke1-d1 Be7-f6

  16. e2-e3 h7-h6

  17. Ra1-a3 Nd7-b8

  18. d4xc5 b6xc5

  19. Rh1-h2 d5-d4

  20. e3xd4 Bf6xd4

  21. Bc1-d2 Bd4-f6

  22. Nf3-e1 b7-b6

  23. Kd1-c1 Ra8-a7

  24. f2-f4 Ra7-d7

  25. Ra3-b3 Nb8-c6

  26. Ne1-f3 Bc8-b7

  27. Nf3-e1 Nc6-a5

  28. Rb3-a3 c5-c4

  29. Kc1-d1 Bb7-c6

  30. Ra3-a1 Kg8-f7

  31. g3-g4 g7-g6

  32. g4xf5 g6xf5

  33. Rh2-f2 Bc6-b7

  34. Ra1-c1 Bb7-a6

  35. Ne1-c2 Na5-b3

  36. Nc2xb4 Rd7xd2+

  37. Kd1-e1 Rd2xf2

  38. Ke1xf2 Bf6-h4+

  39. Kf2-g1 Nb3xc1

  40. Nb4xa6 Rd8-d2

  41. Bf1xc4+ Kf7-g6

  42. Kg1-h1 Bh4-g3

  43. Kh1-g1 Bg3xf4

  44. Nc3-d5 Bf4-h2+

  45. Kg1-h1 f5-f4

  46. b2-b4 f4-f3

  47. Nd5xb6 Bh2-g3

  48. Bc4-b3 Rd2-e2

  49. Bb3-c2+ Kg6-f6

  50. Nb6-d7+ Kf6-e7

  51. Bc2-d3 Re2-e1+

  52. Bd3-f1 Re1xf1# ________ Played today
• 
  14

  Murder in the Cathedral (Chess at Barnes & Noble)

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  i sat with my board and pieces like a new orleans hooker in a window with a red light, displaying my wanton intentions--eager for action.. last evening in barnes & noble.tuesdays the chess club meets there.. i arrived with my infamous black bag of pawns and rooks and other deadly concealed weapons of regicide--an old warrior in a strange land.. presently, a mother and her son stepped forward.

  he was about 12.____mother: “oh, sir--my son has become obsessed with the game of chess and i thought if hecould play some real games with experienced players he might enjoy that.

  would it be okay if kevin played a game with you?”.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  I have read Frances Parkinson Keyes book "The Chess Players."
  A classic!
  
  For me, the human nature of my opponent is the most fun.
  I observe their temperament, tendencies, skillset, and whatnot.
  After a while, I do find the stylistic preferences which are most likely
  make preparation against them easier. Nothing is more motivating than losing!
  
  When I was actively playing, I only played in maybe 2 tournaments toward the end of the 1990's. I was barely a 1500 player at that time.
  In later years, I could inconsistently beat players up to about 1800 level.
  Only on a GOOD day with my mind straight.
  
  Today? I have no idea. I would guess somewhere around 1700.
  
  I have read extensively and know the biographies and history of the famous players.
  
  I've read the theory books, too.
  My favorite player was Jose' Raul Capablanca.
  My favorite teacher, Yassir Seriwan (I think his name is.)
  
  My favorite YouTube channel is a fellow named

  MatoJelic.
• 
  14

  Murder in the Cathedral (Chess at Barnes & Noble)

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  i sat with my board and pieces like a new orleans hooker in a window with a red light, displaying my wanton intentions--eager for action.. last evening in barnes & noble.tuesdays the chess club meets there.. i arrived with my infamous black bag of pawns and rooks and other deadly concealed weapons of regicide--an old warrior in a strange land.. presently, a mother and her son stepped forward.

  he was about 12.____mother: “oh, sir--my son has become obsessed with the game of chess and i thought if hecould play some real games with experienced players he might enjoy that.

  would it be okay if kevin played a game with you?”.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  I was a member of a local chess club around 1999--2003 but stopped going
  when the only chess anybody wanted to play was Blitz!
  
  Heck--I have trouble not embarrassing myself with a slow game--let alone getting myself humiliated ten times in one hour with speed chess!
  
  It's only in the last 6 months I decided I needed chess in my life again
  because of my age. I want to postpone senility any way I can :)
  
  I find playing against a computer online is soulless. Mainly because I can only win 1 game out of 4. (Crushes my soul )
  
  It is a wonderful pastime and reveals to me my many character flaws.
  
  +++
  I highly recommend this novel by the author of that great pool book
  THE HUSTLER
  
  
• 
  14

  Murder in the Cathedral (Chess at Barnes & Noble)

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  i sat with my board and pieces like a new orleans hooker in a window with a red light, displaying my wanton intentions--eager for action.. last evening in barnes & noble.tuesdays the chess club meets there.. i arrived with my infamous black bag of pawns and rooks and other deadly concealed weapons of regicide--an old warrior in a strange land.. presently, a mother and her son stepped forward.

  he was about 12.____mother: “oh, sir--my son has become obsessed with the game of chess and i thought if hecould play some real games with experienced players he might enjoy that.

  would it be okay if kevin played a game with you?”.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  
  
  I sat with my board and pieces like a New Orleans hooker in a window with a red light, displaying my wanton intentions--eager for action.

  Last evening in Barnes & Noble.
  Tuesdays the Chess club meets there.

  I arrived with my infamous black bag of pawns and rooks and other deadly concealed weapons of regicide--an old warrior in a strange land.

  Presently, a mother and her son stepped forward.
  He was about 12.
  ____
  Mother: “Oh, Sir--my son has become obsessed with the game of chess and I thought if he
  could play some real games with experienced players he might enjoy that. Would it be okay if Kevin played a game with you?”

  Terry (addressing Kevin): “Good Evening, Kevin. Did you want to play a game?”

  The young man looked like the bold and adventurous Nerd, bloodthirsty for conquest. He was smooth-faced, with golden tousled hair, large and intelligent blue eyes.
  He nodded and took his chair opposite me.
  ___

  Mother: “All the other kids his age are playing such violent video games, I’m glad he’s taken such avid interest in Chess. In fact, it’s all he seems to want to do.”

  Terry: “Chess is the oldest video game in existence--except--without the video.”

  Mother takes a seat nearby like the overprotective suburban Housefrau of 1950’s sitcoms.

  Kevin: “Do you care which color you play, because--if you don’t--I’d prefer White.”

  Terry: “Chess is a very Moral game. The rules ensure neither side is given unfair advantages on purpose.
  That is why I do THIS!
  (I place a white pawn in one hand and a black pawn in my other hand.)
  I’ll now mix these up and let you choose in the blind.
  Like most things in life, Luck will confer its advantage willy-nilly.”
  __

  The boy and his mother are now looking at this old man who uses words like “willy-nilly” with guarded suspicion. However, Kevin selects my left hand and luck bestows the White Privilege.
  _____

  Our game commences with Kevin’s pawn staunchly planted on the fourth square in front of His Majesty’s throne.

  Terry: “ You are an aggressive General like Hannibal of Carthage, who brought Rome to its knees in the Punic Wars.”

  (Kevin is now staring at me, wondering what he’s gotten himself into. His mother is nodding and smiling. Her bouncing baby boy is being educated by an old sage.)
  ___
  I scoot my King’s pawn one square forward. Timidly, like some errant mouse venturing out of its hole, eyeballing the room in search of the famished cat.

  In an eager flash of movement, Kevin orders his King’s Knight forward, supporting the center.
  My Queen’s Bishop’s pawn launches into the field and prevents a second center pawn.
  _____

  Terry: “Chess is not only a moral game but a game which exposes and reveals character.
  It is moral because--if you do nothing wrong--your opponent cannot punish you. It reveals character because, like life itself, adversity tests who we are inside and what we are made of.”

  (Mother’s head tilts slightly to the side, thoughtfully embracing buzzwords like “moral” and “character” with instinctive approval.)

  Kevin’s eyes are flicking here and there, dancing over the field of play with impatience for carnage. He reminds me of my son, Nicholas, at that age--keenly intelligent and enthusiastic for any opportunity to display his genius.
  Kevin decides to penetrate my territorial sanctity by placing his King’s Bishop on my Queen’s side flank.

  Kevin: “CHECK!”
  ______

  Terry: “ 1540s, the Catholic Church sent priests into Japan from Portugal to convert the Japanese to Christianity, teaching them to ‘turn the other cheek’ so that eventually, troops would arrive and conquer the newly minted Christians and establish dominance in Asia.”

  (I interposed my Queen’s Knight, blocking his Bishop.)

  Mother, I can see, has pursed her lips a wee bit. The wheels in her maternal noggin are turning. She isn’t Catholic. So far, so good.

  ____

  And so it went.
  With each move, I told little stories and sprinkled tidbits of history, philosophy, and religious lore mostly to keep myself interesting (I hoped.)

  Kevin’s over-eager aggression got him into trouble quite early. I trapped his Bishop and--like King Henry II’s henchmen, murdered Thomas More in the cathedral--I curtailed the influence of his Catholic emissary.
  Step by step. Move by move. The noose tightened inexorably.

  I let him take back blundered moves a couple of times--although this is poor sport. I didn’t want to crush his spirit. I advised him when he was going wrong--but in a gentle way.
  __

  Finally, it was over.
  His king cowered in the corner as my mouse of a pawn advanced to his first rank and transformed into a snarling lion administering Checkmate.

  _____

  He thanked me with polite acknowledgment and went off for other opportunities with the rest of the club members.
  Mother went out of her way to come over and thank me.
  
  I explained to her that her son was quite a bright young man.
  
  "Chess is a moral game because--unless you do something wrong--nobody can punish you.
  His only fault was ambition without a plan for success. Blind ambition can be unlearned through developing patience. Patience is an old man's strong suit."

  _____

  That’s the only game I played. My daughter Helena came by after her class at the local community college. We set off for Starbucks nearby.

  And a good time was had by all.
  
  (Except maybe Kevin the Bold whose king was murdered in the Cathedral.)
• 
  49

  My 71st Birthday Confessional

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  i was born january 15, 1947in mt.

  carmel hospital, detroit, michigan.. within six months of my birth, my mother would bundle her baby boy into a blanket and board an american airlines propeller-driven plane--in effect, leaving my father behind--to return to her hometown, ft. worth, texas.. my dad had an excellent job working for cadillac as an inspector.

  it was a union job.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  
  
  Don Magno (still an artist today, Terry Walstrom (a writer) Arvant Benjamin (lost touch with him.)
  This production facility had artists from Germany, Thailand, the Philipines, Mexico, etc.
  We were a ragtag bunch.
  My horizons were expanding like crazy. From a JW Pioneer to a fledgling painter in an art factory.
  
  
• 
  49

  My 71st Birthday Confessional

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  i was born january 15, 1947in mt.

  carmel hospital, detroit, michigan.. within six months of my birth, my mother would bundle her baby boy into a blanket and board an american airlines propeller-driven plane--in effect, leaving my father behind--to return to her hometown, ft. worth, texas.. my dad had an excellent job working for cadillac as an inspector.

  it was a union job.

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  mgmelkat7 hours ago7 hours ago

  Did you ever become the artist you wanted? Would love to see what you created!
  _____
  
  My first actual job as an "artist" was in a large company called TRIANGLE ART. It was, more or less, a factory of sorts. I was hired as one of a group of 10 artists whose job was to reproduce multiple copies of wall paintings. These paintings were designed by two fellows who went on to become my best friends.
  Guess what?
  I had never painted anything before in my life!
  (Unless you count fingerpainting in the first-grade elementary school.)
  
  My chief talent in art stemmed from an uncanny natural ability to draw hyper-realistic portraits of human faces.
  I could say a lot about this, but I won't bore you.
  My drawings seemed to impress people. To this day, I cannot understand why this is so.
  I digress...
  Imagine you are a Dentist hired to perform an appendectomy and you'll understand my situation.
  My one natural gift was "non-transferable" to painting! Yet, on the strength of my interview and "chemistry" with the two head designers--I was hired.
  I did a Google search and found an image which pretty much nails what we were asked to do.
  The idea was this.
  A landscape, for instance, was created by the lead designers and approved
  by the salesmen as something they thought they could sell.

  These designers then "broke it down" into stages, creating
  intermediate canvases even a moron (like me) could copy.
  
  Was it really Art?
  Ha ha ha ha ha. Don't be silly.
  These WERE paintings and the art was eventually framed and sold.
  People DID buy them
  But was it Art?
  Ha ha ha ha.
  
  A "Certificate of Authenticity" was created verifying some wholly invented

  nonsense about the non-existing Artist. "Anton Chichikov, master painter
  from Ukraine, escaped the iron curtain of Communism during Premiere
  Khrushev's regime and fled to France where he adapted his vision of

  beautiful blah-blah-blah into this remarkable piece of blah-blah..."
  
  Within about a month, I approached the owner of the company with some ideas
  for how to improve working conditions and pay for the artists.
  I proposed an INCENTIVE SYSTEM.
  
  The owner, Richard Friedman, a Hungarian Jewish fellow who wore his shirt
  open exposing the plethora of white hair on his chest and his bright gold chain,
  approved the idea and promoted me to the foreman position.
  This unexpected outcome meant I no longer had to paint schlock!
  
  Why am I telling you this?
  I am a writer now--why wouldn't I turn it into part of my life story? :)
  
  
  
  From that promotion forward, (are you ready for it?) I never really had to
  create any original art of my own for the rest of my art career!
  In fact, the lead designer R.S. Riddick was about to launch his own etching
  business and he stole me as his own employee.
  My whole life changed!
  I moved from Cucamonga, California (at the foot of Mt. Baldy) to Redondo Beach
  in South Bay.
  
  I was trained to mix colored ink, apply the ink to etching plates, prepare the
  rag paper in a bath of water, and to soak and dry it--then, lay the plates on
  a thick blanket surface in a large motorized roller press and--PRESTO!
  Pulling back the blanket, and peeling off the paper, the freshly minted etching

  appeared. After it dried, we often hand-painted watercolor areas, or added

  a poem I would write. Finally, Art galleries all over the U.S. ordered these

  original, limited edition etchings from our traveling sales force.
  

  As a Jehovah's Witness who had only worked horrible jobs cleaning toilets, building mobile

  homes, and painting houses--I was in heaven working in an actual Atelier
  in the incredible paradise of California.
  
  From that position as Master Inker and Pressman, I became the de facto C.E.O.
  
  of R.N.R. Graphics, when the Artist himself moved on.
  I hired more artists to replace him and changed the direction of the company.
  
  From there, I went to work as an Art Consultant and salesperson in Beverly Hills at
  Billy Hork Galleries.
  Most of my stories involving Hollywood celebrities began about that time.

  From then onward, I learned Custom Framing techniques and hired on at
  Creative Galleries about a mile from MGM Studios.
  What a fantastic experience!
  I made friends with set decorators for TV and movies

  and consulted on Art installations for all corporate hangings.
  
  The moral of this tale?
  I NEVER REALLY USED my artistic gift per se.
  Amazing and ironic? I think so.
  
  The only piece of original art I own which I created, is my very first drawing
  from 1965 when I discovered (and was discovered) my portrait talent.
  From that first High School era drawing, I did contract work in Fort Worth.
  I charged whatever I thought I could get--which wasn't much.
  My longing to use this one tiny talent just about ate me up until I moved
  away from the drudgery of janitorial labor and Jehovah's Witness bondage.
  
  I took this iPhone shot of that one piece. It is hanging on my wall.
  It is Peter O'Toole as Lawrence of Arabia
  
  
  For "Good Luck" I have used this drawing on the cover of both of my books