Herman Edward Schmidt – hedwardschmidt.com

H. Edward Schmidt

Archive for October 2017

Rainy Days and Comfort Food

I woke up at 4:30 this morning and went to my favorite website, Consortium. It can be relied on to produce very good writing about things I agree on. It was raining outside so it bought out my dark side. This prompted me to write a comment which I now regret about how we are doomed. I will have to return and  insert some optimism so that I either don’t depress everyone else or I get a response that I might consider treatment.

I am sitting here knowing that I have to get ready for church and thinking I need to go back to the website and edit my comments, put in something hopeful.

Rainy days and comfort food come to mind. They both make me feel better.  I think the rainy day appeal was inserted in my soul when I was growing up on our farm. On rainy days, most of them, I didn’t have to work. Comfort food works the same way, it makes me feel better.

I gotta get going. Started thinking about marketing books. I hate marketing anything including myself. I want to be discovered. I don’t want to ask people to read my books. I want them to tell me how much they like them. It’s not going to happen, of course, so I must expose my work and psyche to review.

Blue Mountain, Jesuits and Stubs(?) and Autumn

Haven’t posted anything for a while.  Progress on illustrations for Rescue on Blue Mountain encouraging though meeting the Christmas deadline is problematical but possible, even likely. See the mood change in a single sentence. Harford Community College was very helpful in finding an illustrator.  Rachel Harris is a pleasant surprise; her art work looks really good.

So much to do on our property and on the farm, have neglected doing any writing.  Hate to spend the great weather inside and it really helps to get things done before it turns cold. The old manuscript titled Stubs is where I spend the few minutes writing. The Jesuits are not on the back burner or even the stove top. Still an interesting subject which now focuses on their missionary work in the northern part of the land between the Rockies and the Cascades in the late nineteenth century. Resources are easy to find but pulling it all together is going to be a real challenge. I decided what I need to do is flesh out the characters likely central to the book.

What I have read of the manuscript Stubs doesn’t inspire but I read the few pages I have written and found myself interested in the character.

Back to my real project, repairing the snow blower. I am a real trial and error handyman, mostly errors.




Great Game

Baseball has changed a lot over the years. With immediate reviews and sometimes reversal of umpire decisions accuracy is improved but something is lost. The great umpires and the good ones are put in one pot, all vulnerable to having their calls reversed. Lost is the heated exchanges between umpires, managers and players and discovery of who are the really great umpires. Other things have happened like the science of improving speed and power. Money made that inevitable. The baseball players in their builds, techniques and mannerism resemble something from a clone factory.

Then along comes the second game of the playoffs between Houston and the Yankees. It all came clear in the ninth inning with the score tied one to one.  Pitching for the Houston Astros, Verlander.  Why is that special. He started the game and he was still in there like three decades ago when the pitcher who started the game was likely to be in the game in the ninth. The new way is to replace pitchers, usually three or four, each one in there to throw as hard as he can for as long as he can. Gone with the new way is the pitcher matching wits with batters three or four times a game, the craftier and better man prevailing.  Verlander brought back memories of all those pitchers who started the game and walked off the mound, winner or loser after the end of the game.

Verlander prevailed and we have the bottom of the ninth. For the Yankees, a specialist, to pitch one inning, and overpower batters is on the mound. He is approximately six and one half feet tall and throws pitches 100 miles and hour. To the  plate to face him , a five and one half foot batter, perhaps one hundred pounds less than his enemy.  First pitch, maybe 100 miles and hour and the little guy raps a single into center field.  The little guy dances off first and takes off with the best player on the field hits a ball into right field. The right fielder fields it perfectly but the little guy keeps right on running. Millions watch as the little guy roars around third and heads for the plate, the relay throw likely to beat him to the plate. The throw was fumbled by the catcher and the little guy slides past on his belly, touch the plate as he goes by, and jumps up to celebrate.

It’s why I love game and its memories.

Traction on Blue Mountain

Think I found a student illustrator at Harford Community College!! Will wait and see. It has been a long search for someone to do the illustrations that also knows how to create a digital file that can be printed.  Three months til Christmas and am hopeful that Rachel can do the job. There are sixteen illustrations, many of which I did myself and are adequate with touch up and the  matter of meshing of the illustrations with the printed story.  One of those learn as you go projects. Nick can give me some guidance since he was instrumental in getting my other books in print, I trust he will be helpful.

I have a month to month arrangement on SEO with a firm in Arizona. The first moth does not look promising.  They are already telling me at the end of this month that the first one is always slow and but there is momentum. Since I am flying blind, I have to decide whether I take a risk on their credibility. Do I sign them for another month?

1.38 and 19 and the search for bargains

I love bargains. Big or small. Littles wins that I cherish. Travelling the Rockies in 1989 I found one of my best. Ice cream cones in St. George, Utah for 19 cents! Dessert time or not, I treated all five of us to ice cream cones. Last week and twenty eight years later in Miamisburg, Ohio I found another. $1.38 for three very big scoops of vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup which Patricia and I shared. Since I paid $2.25 for a cup of coffee the night before at the same place, imagine the joy of sharing all that ice cream for $1.38. What made it really special is that it came as a complete surprise when the young lady handed me the bill.

In St. George, a big sign we could see from the highway, in Miamisburg a little slip of paper after we finished. I suppose that 19 cent ice cream heightened my sense to remember,  because it was the day for memories-the beautiful western humming birds at the campsite and the day we were heading to Kanab and the hotel where John Wayne and the other movie stars stayed when they made John Ford westerns. Kind of a double dose of history, of cinema and the nineteenth century west.

I did give the pleasant young lady a two dollar tip.