Unconditional Positive Regard

"If your partner in life, child, friend or pet makes a bid for your attention, don't turn away. For this moment, they need your unconditional positive regard. This is more than one of the greatest gifts you can give; it is the key to making and keeping satisfying relationships."

The Chain of Command

The human interstellar exploration vessel “Serendipity” had been in orbit around the planet of a newly-discovered advanced civilization for 23 shipdays. The initial excitement had finally died down. They had not been peremptorily shot out of the sky. 

The LIPs (Local Indigenous Population) had been genuinely cordial. Scientists, linguists and technicians had made rapid progress in exchanging data. The crew had been startled that the aliens wore no clothing at all except for a bag, suspended from their hump, where they tucked all manner of things. And so, they began to call the planet-side beings “Tuckers,” and the appellation stuck like over-done spaghetti to a wall.

The crew passed around the rumor that an initial formal diplomatic visit was being planned. Preparations put the crew back into extended duties; tensions were boiling over; something was definitely cooking. And, so it was. An officer had been selected to go down to the Tuckers’ planet.

For most of those on-board, this alien contact was the culmination of otherwise-unfruitful careers. Interstellar duty tended to the uneventful. Normally, the crew had little to do except master their duties, chew the fat with friends, and plug into the media center – vegetating for hours at a time. Naturally, the crew was drooling over the prestigious work ahead; they were already savoring the sweet taste of success and promotions to gravy posts back on Earth.

Robert C. “Bobby” Saunders was a full Bird Colonel. [For those who may not know, a “Bird Colonel” is a common, but not formal, term that refers to the silver emblem of an eagle with its wings spread (also sometimes called “chicken wings”) that is worn by full Colonels.] As you have probably noticed, Colonel Saunders’ name is an unfortunate distraction, especially as it was well-known that he hailed from Kentucky, one of the sixty-three Federated States. However, this bears no immediate relevance in this story, so we shall simply call him “Bobby.”

Do You Know a Complainer?

"Criticizing and complaining spring from the same well of anger combined with impotence. Do you prefer to play the victim or the problem-solver? Would you rather be an anchor or a sail? Besides, persistence and success beat the alternative."

Remembering my Dad

My father, William H. (Bill) Satterlee, was 90 years old when he died last week. [January 13, 2013] He started having “spells” and was hospitalized just before Christmas in the southern Missouri town where one of my brothers and his clan live. Dad’s body and mind started shutting down and he never recovered.

I made a point of visiting him in the hospital that first week. It turned out that I was able to share some of his last lucid hours. I arrived in the early evening, shortly after the others had left for the day. I helped him finish eating his supper. We enjoyed several hours of sharing stories and catching up on news. The nurses made up a foldout chair and I stayed with him for the night. I fed Dad breakfast in the morning. He told me how to dilute his Cream of Wheat with milk just right so that I could hold it up while he drank it through a straw.

Bill worked hard and played hard too. He was a quiet and modest man, but his eyes could sparkle with mischief before pulling a surprise. He worked on a railroad bridge crew before going to prison in Fort Leavenworth during World War II as a conscientious objector.

Are You Ruled by Your Emotions?

"Think outside your own limbic system. Don't let the deep ruts of your familiar emotional reactions control how you feel, what you think and what you do. Take a breath. Look up. Ask a thoughtful question. Take a moment to listen to others."

Waking Up Grumpy

A Fergus Johnson story of gender relations

It all started with a harmless but cynical little joke. It was the kind of old throw-away line that men and women repeat to each other when commiserating with their kind about the unsteadiness of their steady beau or the unfairness of the fairer sex.

Fergus was in the usual bar telling stories with his usual buddies from the office. It was too early in the evening (and they had had too few beers) for the regular ladies to start looking good. Fergus had just offered the “Did you wake up grumpy this morning? No I let her sleep,” joke. Really, it was lame and innocuous. It was just as likely that a girl at the chick table would look around and observe that “The odds are good, but the goods are odd.” No harm, no foul.

However, as it would happen, the gods, also having nothing better to do at that moment, heard him and looked up from their rather tedious game of Canasta. This could get interesting. Dagon glanced at Loki who rolled his eyes and said, “Why does everybody think I want to get involved in every lame-ass, ignorant, thankless dork with a bad attitude? Persephone kicked Loki’s shin under the table and he winced. Loki sighed with resignation and took his turn at meddling in the affairs of men.

“OK, how’s this?” Loki suggested. “Every morning, Fergus wakes up next to a different unknown woman in bed. They all have pre-existing histories with him that he doesn’t yet know about. It keeps up until his attitude improves.” Thor gave a leering grin and a big thumbs-up. Phaethon just curtly nodded his consent, followed by a smug smile as he

Introduce yourself to The Great Cosmic Happy Ass Card Company

Life would not be complete without the artful 'spiritual' humor of Diane English. Dear friends, discover your irreverent giggle bone and share the joy with your friends!

First, a Little Catching-up

After completing Chum for Thought: Throwing Ideas into Dangerous Waters (2013), I set out to organize and back-up my writing files. I needed to get a handle on the usual collage of duplicates and versions. In the process, I rediscovered some beloved old friends that still give me “that icy tingle up and down my spine.” I’ve finally given some of these prodigal essays a home.

My father died since publishing my first book of essays. I’ve produced two writings about him. The first, “Remembering my Dad” was sized to appear as one of my columns in the Dayton Review. It leads off — right after this. The final essay, “How I Got from There to Here,” is also autobiographical.

“Honoring My Father,” is a natural companion piece that I have decided to not duplicate here. It is a memorium to the goodness in Dad’s life and an ironic take on the circumstances of a dysfunctional funeral. You can find it separately as its own small book. Naturally, I think it is a good read and recommend it to you.

David Satterlee