I offer a few stories for your entertainment. Please offer your comments in my guest guest book, or e mail me.
Chuck Petterson
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When one reaches a certain age one slowly becomes less and less concerned about titles, positions and things others feel are important. Mr. Aronsen has reached the age where nothing that concerns anyone else could possibly concern him. His life has been 163 years long, but his story is short. Knock on the door to his 22nd century Florida condo and join him for a day on the beach.
There actually is a Genoa, Wisconsin. It's the sleepiest of river towns despite having an adjacent lock and dam and just a stone's throw from a nuclear power plant. It would seem to be an unlikely place to spend one's life waiting for the precise opportunity to appear. Even if you like cheese curds... a lot.
But, you won't need a motel room for your stay in this short story.
Ah, the internet. All you need is one person to post an outrageous claim and the world will quickly jump on board. Have you found Genoa on MapQuest yet, or Google earth? Don't delay too long, there may be people who would be unhappy if too many folks start showing up, uninvited, in Genoa.
YOU may be handsome and glib, but YOU probably don't spend 270 days a year submerged and the other ninety days getting the boat ready to go back to sea. So even though YOU don't have any trouble getting next to women whenever you choose, YOU aren't our heroes. But, toward the end of a SpecOp a brilliant plan to meet women is hatched between two shipmates and when they return to port they head to Brooklyn, NY, for the express intent of meeting immigrant Russian women. Will they find happiness? Don't these geeks know attractive Russian women are probably already an interest of not so friendly Russian men? Click on title to find out.
You are the besieged President of the United States, taking flack from all sides as the result of previous administration errors made on the advice of bum intelligence work. Now you are looking at information that indicates terrorists are embarking on a comprehensive attack. Or maybe it's all a hoax. The inteligence managers are only concerned about themselves. Who are you going to call? How about that guy who was such a firebrand a few years back, but the rumors were he couldn't be bought off or coerced by the managers? The guy whose blind wife had legendary knowledge and abilities for recognizing voices. Who will you trust to bring in someone who can be trusted? Who hates you so much they are eager to pay anything to make this happen? Or, maybe, they are doing this for some other reason.
If you are in Norwalk, Iowa, and ask the folks there who knew my brother, John, they would probably describe a devoted family man, civic minded citizen who everyone liked. Before creating familial responsibilities, John led a relatively righteous life, but one where his neck was stuck out further than most people would find comfortable. John was a photographer since his teen years and ended up in Springfield, Mass., trying to eke out a living as a "kid-napper" and wedding photographer. He became a confidential informer for the FBI because of an unsolicited wedding job for a local organized crime boss. The basis for the story can be followed in the Springfield papers from the period. John died from cancer before he completed writing his account. I completed the story based on my knowledge of his activities. Step back to 1967 and into the grasp of New England organized crime.