Friends and families in and of autism, I have something very special to talk to you about today. I want to talk to you about an amazing woman and her goal to help autism families across the nation. It all started in Cordova, Tennessee where Laura Corby started the Autism Solution Center.
What is the Autism Solution Center? Well, my first suggestion is that you take an online trip to autismsolutioncenter.com. Next I will tell you that it’s a place that offers no cost assistance to autism families and autistics in general. Then I offer you a quote from the site:
"AUTISM IS TREATABLE! At the Autism Solution Center, Inc. (ASC), our goal is to make sure that this phrase becomes a well-known fact. We are determined to make sure every individual with an autism spectrum disorder has access to the treatments, interventions and assistance needed to provide them with the opportunity to reach their fullest potential. We are passionate in our role as treatment facility, advocate, and educator. We are dedicated to providing NO COST, critically necessary, early intervention and life-long services to those with Autism Spectrum Disorders (ASD’s), and support and services to their families and caretakers. We strive to educate our communities about all aspects of autism and its treatability."
Laura’s long term goal is to put a center like this, minimum of one, in every state. The ASC offers assistance like I haven’t seen before from a non-profit agency, especially for autism. Unfortunately, every dream has it’s hurdles. Like any non-profit, it needs funding and sponsors. The ASC is a registered non-profit organization and all donation information can be found on their web page.
True, they are located in the Memphis area, but think of this, enough donations could see the full scale goal come to life. I hope that all of you will visit this website and donate even one dollar to help this cause. Don’t let a noble program like this go under. Help it keep going and better yet, help it reach your area. You can reach Laura Corby through her website via phone or email.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Meds for your child? What you need to know.
The decision to put a child on medication is never a light one. I can count many a parent who has said to me, “ I will never put my child on medication”. There is always some reason behind their strong feelings and usually it involves the fear that they will lose the person their child really is. They don’t want their child to be a zombie or controlled in “that way”.
Because of that, I find it bears repeating ad nauseam: The purpose of a medication is NOT to control your child. The purpose of a medication is to help a child control him or herself. If your child is doing well without medication, that is wonderful. However, I have had more than one parent, who gave me an anti-medication lecture trying to use my son as an example. They have actually pointed to him and said, “See? He’s doing fine right now”. This is a dead point to make because he takes his medications every single day. That means, at the exact time they pointed at him, he was under the effects of his medication. Were he not, I guarantee you “okay” would not have escaped their lips. Naturally some have given me the example of how well their own child is doing.
You cannot take example of how other peoples children are doing, with or without as concrete example of how your child will do. You must do the homework and research for yourself. That being said, here is what you need to know about applying medications to your child.
Trial and Error: Getting the right results from medications with your child will always, always, always be result of trial and error. There are no guaranteed results that will occur in every single child who tries any given medication. That goes for adults as well, for anyone who is going to start medications for disorders.
Time and Patience: Results don’t happen overnight, period. To gauge full effects of any med you may have to administer them for at least a week and up to a month. During that time, you will have to watch for side effects and give them time to either clear up, or show you that your child can’t use that medication. You will have to see how long the level of the med has a proper effect and talk to the doctor about whether or not to increase dosage.
Know your meds!: Read about them, research them, and know them inside and out. How long before you see results? What are the side effects? If they are wrong for your child, can you stop them cold turkey, or do you have wean them off? You need to know all these things for any form of medicating you intend to do with your child.
Don’t cut out the doctor: I don’t care what you are giving your child, over the counter or prescribed. Especially if you are using prescriptions and plan to add other chemicals from “over the counter”, you need to have a doctor on board to advise you on what those extras could do mixed with things your child is already taking. Things like Melatonin, food additives, and supplements can interact with existing medications and bring out undesired effects. Keep your doctor on board and close to what you are doing. Don’t hesitate to call and bug your doctors office with questions and make sure to do research.
No, medication is not for everyone but it is necessary for some. Not only should we not judge others for their use of medications (whether they do or don’t), we should educate ourselves before we do. Considering your child for medication? Get educated and know the territory. Remember that you are your childs best and most important advocate.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Neurofeedback, A Chiropractor for your Brain
Several years ago, I tried a treatment that I thought of as fairly radical. I felt skeptical but in need of something more in my treatment to control bipolar disorder and co morbid conditions of my Asperger’s Syndrome. The treatment; neurofeedback. Neurofeedback is a balancing treatment for your brainwaves, and it actually works.
Neurofeedback, also called neurotherapy or EEG biofeedback is a process of training conscious control of various brainwave patterns by showing the patient results of brainwave activity with a video screen and attachment to sensors on the scalp.
Imagine a white circle on a black screen. If you are over tense or tense at all, the ball floats off to the left of the screen. If you are too relaxed, it floats off to the right. You learn to control yourself by concentrating on keeping that big round blip in the middle of the screen. There are several different screen settings and “games” to pick from, but all of them come out with about the same results. They’re just plain neat to see. You can get a very detailed explanation of neurofeedback in wikipedia. There are also many good websites for your own research on the subject. I look at it like having a chiropractor for your brain.
My results in treatment? I found myself calmer in situations that normally would have made me angry. I found myself less confused and more capable of complex decisions than before. I didn’t stop taking my medications, but I certainly found the treatment to be very helpful to my over all medical care and control of my conditions. I advise it as worth looking into.
Neurofeedback is listed as treating ADHD, bipolar, and other mood disorders. Check out Neurofeedbacktherapy.net for a more complete list of conditions treated. I don’t personally advise dropping other treatments for the sake of this one, but I do advise using it right along with your existing treatments. Naturally, it’s worthwhile to consult a trusted physician.
Neurofeedback, also called neurotherapy or EEG biofeedback is a process of training conscious control of various brainwave patterns by showing the patient results of brainwave activity with a video screen and attachment to sensors on the scalp.
Imagine a white circle on a black screen. If you are over tense or tense at all, the ball floats off to the left of the screen. If you are too relaxed, it floats off to the right. You learn to control yourself by concentrating on keeping that big round blip in the middle of the screen. There are several different screen settings and “games” to pick from, but all of them come out with about the same results. They’re just plain neat to see. You can get a very detailed explanation of neurofeedback in wikipedia. There are also many good websites for your own research on the subject. I look at it like having a chiropractor for your brain.
My results in treatment? I found myself calmer in situations that normally would have made me angry. I found myself less confused and more capable of complex decisions than before. I didn’t stop taking my medications, but I certainly found the treatment to be very helpful to my over all medical care and control of my conditions. I advise it as worth looking into.
Neurofeedback is listed as treating ADHD, bipolar, and other mood disorders. Check out Neurofeedbacktherapy.net for a more complete list of conditions treated. I don’t personally advise dropping other treatments for the sake of this one, but I do advise using it right along with your existing treatments. Naturally, it’s worthwhile to consult a trusted physician.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
I'm Driven
I feel I must explain myself. In some of my blogs I have been very harsh in my opinion and reports. I’ve been harsh on some professional places. Our police dispatch for example, yes I’ve been very harsh on them. But why? Am I just angry because things didn’t go my way? The answer is a devoted NO. The truth is that I am driven when it comes to matters of public safety, public awareness that contributes to safety and more. It’s a drive to me and I’ll tell you why.
First, what is a drive? What do I mean by using this word? A drive is an internal force that compels you to do something or act in a certain way. Our basic drives include eating, sleeping, and procreation (making babies). Our drives are triggered in various ways. When you are hungry, you are compelled to eat, for example. If you didn’t you would face consequences of getting sick or starving.
Personal preservation are not the only drives we can have. Some drives can hurt us, like the drive from an addiction. Some drives take more control of us like that of obsessive compulsive disorders (and other disorders).
Next I’m going to bring my autism into this. Autistics, especially in the high functioning zones, are often known for having special talents or interests that they have difficulty breaking away from. Dr. Hans Asperger coined the identification of Asperger’s children as being “little professors” (you can check that out by looking up Dr. Hans Asperger in Wikipedia). For what ever each child’s special interest became, they could be highly versed to the point of extreme trivia on the subject. They would also have difficulty, due to obsession to that interest, in talking to you about anything else. This can be overcome with practice and support, but I think you can see how this can be a drive.
Now, I have more than one special interest, but my greatest interest has always been in safety, security and protection fields. As a matter of fact, my past work history boasts over 19 years of experience. As one our Sheboygan officers said to me, “old habits die hard”. Well, mine certainly aren’t dead yet and I don’t think they ever will be. My field experience has been diverse. I’ve been everything from security guard to body guard, from soldier to duly authorized ticket wielding officer. For that matter, my military experience was serving with a military police company and doing some MP duties even though I was not an MP. That’s the Army for you.
So, I have a very strong drive from my interest and experience and when it gets triggered I am compelled to take action. Of late, that action has been in my blogs, but I have taken more immediate action before. I do not feel that my decision to act is one I make lightly because of how strongly I believe in my convictions. They are that driven.
So, that is just a small explanation of my drives and example of how such drives can work. I hope you have found it informative.
First, what is a drive? What do I mean by using this word? A drive is an internal force that compels you to do something or act in a certain way. Our basic drives include eating, sleeping, and procreation (making babies). Our drives are triggered in various ways. When you are hungry, you are compelled to eat, for example. If you didn’t you would face consequences of getting sick or starving.
Personal preservation are not the only drives we can have. Some drives can hurt us, like the drive from an addiction. Some drives take more control of us like that of obsessive compulsive disorders (and other disorders).
Next I’m going to bring my autism into this. Autistics, especially in the high functioning zones, are often known for having special talents or interests that they have difficulty breaking away from. Dr. Hans Asperger coined the identification of Asperger’s children as being “little professors” (you can check that out by looking up Dr. Hans Asperger in Wikipedia). For what ever each child’s special interest became, they could be highly versed to the point of extreme trivia on the subject. They would also have difficulty, due to obsession to that interest, in talking to you about anything else. This can be overcome with practice and support, but I think you can see how this can be a drive.
Now, I have more than one special interest, but my greatest interest has always been in safety, security and protection fields. As a matter of fact, my past work history boasts over 19 years of experience. As one our Sheboygan officers said to me, “old habits die hard”. Well, mine certainly aren’t dead yet and I don’t think they ever will be. My field experience has been diverse. I’ve been everything from security guard to body guard, from soldier to duly authorized ticket wielding officer. For that matter, my military experience was serving with a military police company and doing some MP duties even though I was not an MP. That’s the Army for you.
So, I have a very strong drive from my interest and experience and when it gets triggered I am compelled to take action. Of late, that action has been in my blogs, but I have taken more immediate action before. I do not feel that my decision to act is one I make lightly because of how strongly I believe in my convictions. They are that driven.
So, that is just a small explanation of my drives and example of how such drives can work. I hope you have found it informative.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Stop the Madness, Stop Black Friday
Black Friday, arguably the biggest shopping day of the year every year. This year they’ve taken a spin with some early sales, but I doubt that will slow down the day itself. And people will die.
I can’t remember one year in more than the last decade where people haven’t been assaulted, shot, stabbed or trampled for the sake of some cheap piece of junk. Just last year Walmart had an employee get trampled and two people were shot at a Toy’s R Us. The year before that, three trample victims were reported. I also remember a woman getting shot for a laptop computer and the list of assaults is book worthy.
What’s worse than that, fair people, you are all being taken for a ride by the companies. Just check out this years CNN report about the dirty secrets of Black Friday. Apparently, risk of your life is still A-OK with the big corporations. “While supplies last” and “limit of 3 in store” are geared to make shoppers frantic.
Some of them boast new plans to help safety. They say they’ll hand out guaranteed purchase tickets to the beginning numbers of people in line or some such garbage. I wonder how exactly that is going to stop 4000 frantic shoppers again? Bottom line, too many people in too small of places, all on edge for some trinket, equals disaster. I don’t care what you promise them, you can’t alter reality.
So if you go out shopping on Black Friday this year, don’t forget your life insurance and bullet proof vest. Kiss your kids lil foreheads because if you don’t see their smiling faces on Christmas Day, it’s because you’re either in the hospital or the morgue. Yes, that’s brutal, but it’s a surging reality for a day with a death record from human greed. The madness needs to stop
I can’t remember one year in more than the last decade where people haven’t been assaulted, shot, stabbed or trampled for the sake of some cheap piece of junk. Just last year Walmart had an employee get trampled and two people were shot at a Toy’s R Us. The year before that, three trample victims were reported. I also remember a woman getting shot for a laptop computer and the list of assaults is book worthy.
What’s worse than that, fair people, you are all being taken for a ride by the companies. Just check out this years CNN report about the dirty secrets of Black Friday. Apparently, risk of your life is still A-OK with the big corporations. “While supplies last” and “limit of 3 in store” are geared to make shoppers frantic.
Some of them boast new plans to help safety. They say they’ll hand out guaranteed purchase tickets to the beginning numbers of people in line or some such garbage. I wonder how exactly that is going to stop 4000 frantic shoppers again? Bottom line, too many people in too small of places, all on edge for some trinket, equals disaster. I don’t care what you promise them, you can’t alter reality.
So if you go out shopping on Black Friday this year, don’t forget your life insurance and bullet proof vest. Kiss your kids lil foreheads because if you don’t see their smiling faces on Christmas Day, it’s because you’re either in the hospital or the morgue. Yes, that’s brutal, but it’s a surging reality for a day with a death record from human greed. The madness needs to stop
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Fan Fiction: Time Dies Chapter One
TIME DIES
A fan fiction by DJ Wilde
The console hummed consistently to the satisfaction of it’s lone operator. The press of a button, flip of a few switches, and dusting with a hand kerchief gave the Doctor reason to nod approval. As he tucked the kerchief away he surveyed his surroundings inside the golden glow of the TARDIS. TARDIS, an acronym for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space, the transportation of a Time Lord. He adjusted his dark pin-striped suit and shifted a little in his red tennis shoes. His skin pulled tight across his authorative chin as he thought to himself. Yes, all seemed to be in order.
A powerful lurch threw him to the floor so that, for a moment, all that could be seen of him were his red tennis shoes up in the air.
“What?” he bellowed as he leapt to his feet and started smacking at controls and spinning dials.
Another lurch, harder than the first, threw him again. This time a shudder ran through the TARDIS that kept him on the floor. From across the control room he saw the distortion wave coming at him. The floor and walls rippled in it’s wake like the view of a funhouse mirror. He rolled under the console and slid a panel open with a whip of a wrist. He plunged his hand through a tangle of wires as the distortion closed in on him and grasped at a wide handle. He gave the handle hard twist and the center of the console glowed red. The baritone ‘bong’ of the cloister bell echoed through the room. The center column rose and fell with a grinding sound as a ball of red light grew in it’s center. With the distortion inches from his face he gave the handle a pull with another hard twist. The red light pulsed through the room and the wave dissolved. The Doctor rolled out and scrambled to his feet. His mind raced at what occurred. He didn’t have time to think.
“Hello, Doctor.”
At the center console a large image of a man’s head floated above it, smiling at him. He didn’t find the face familiar, but the chuckle haunted him to both his hearts.
“Who are you?”
“You already know who I am, Doctor. You have merely to say my name.”
“That’s impossible, you died in my arms. I watched your funeral pyre.”
“You know better than that! How many times have I thwarted death? How many times have I returned to challenge you anew? Say my name!”
“ You’re the Master.”
“Yes, Doctor, I am. I’m contacting you so that you know it’s time to come home. Come home, Doctor and see what I have done. Oh, but before you do, I sent you some information on your scanners, you should take a good look at it. Then come home, Doctor, I’ll be waiting for you.”
The image vanished with that chuckle still ringing in the Doctor’s ears. He stepped over to the main console and switched on a monitor. He hoped against hope, it wasn’t what he thought it was.
“No,” he murmured, “It can’t be. I didn’t think even you were capable of that.” He stepped back in a stupor. He shook his head and shrugged it off.
“Well, we can’t just stand by and let that happen can we?”
He virtually attacked the controls in a frenzy of turns, twists and flips of switches. He pounded a panel with a mallet and gave one side a swift kick.
“Well, come on then, show me! Show me!” he slapped a hand across the side of a monitor and it flickered before showing him an image. “Alright then, off we go!”
* * * *
The white lab coat he took fit a little snug across broad shoulders. He didn’t have time to be choosy, he had a job to do. He walked briskly past like-dressed workers in the big meat packing plant near Hamburg, Germany. He only paid attention to them with his peripheral vision as he needed to look like he knew exactly where he was going. He crossed the catwalks with hardly a second glance and made it to the sausage section. That’s where he walked up to a back door and swiped a stolen passcard for entry. He moved into a new sausage section and a place with a pair of large vats of swirling fluid. He brought out his cell phone and flipped it open. The press of a few buttons activated the mini Geiger counter. The high red reading didn’t surprise him thanks to the smell. Dangerous chemicals were processing below him, his mission was half realized.
“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” the voice came to him from an opposite catwalk, “James Bond, you are hard to kill. Well you won’t be walking away from here. My men around you will see to that this time.”
Someone gave him a shove from behind. The cell phone toppled from his hand and into the chemical vat below.
“I’m sure you won’t mind if I don’t stick around to see you cut up into little chunks. I have a delivery of our special sausage to make and about a hundred thousand people to kill.”
The current nemesis walked away as a chainsaw roared to life directly to Bond’s right. The man behind him backed away slightly with a revolver still aimed at the back of Bond’s head. The thug with the chainsaw made a wide swing, apparently expecting him to just stand there and get killed. When he ducked the saw hit the hand holding the revolver. Bond spun around behind that man and gave him a hard shove toward the chainsaw and the railing. Over he went and landed with a scream and splash. Bond immediately had to dodge another saw attempt that ended with the tool stuck in a piece of machinery. Bond kicked him in the back of a knee and shoved his face into the base of that machine. A narrow miss from a man swinging a long hook tore the lab coat and caught on it. Bond shrugged out of it and wrapped it around the man’s attacking hand. He jerked this new attacker into a line of machine gun fire. He threw the dead man down on the catwalk and raced across it with bullets singing off metal surroundings. The shooter kept well within good cover so he didn’t have a direct shot with his Walther PPK. Instead Bond took note of the hot pipes over the shooters head. One well placed bullet had the man screaming and leaping out of his hiding place. Another bullet finished the job. Bond ran down another line of catwalk, knowing he had to stop his target from making that fatal delivery. Outside, the truck already left the gate with his quarry in a sedan behind it. A man stepped out in the way ahead with another meat hook. A pile of chain made a good weapon of opportunity and it found it’s way into the new target’s face. Three men were gathering just below him. He threw the chain around a support pole and jumped on to it like a fireman with one leg around it and the other free to kick the closest worker in the face. The chain came away from the pole in perfect arc to hit the other two and leave them writhing in agony on the ground.
Just outside he found a motorcycle and jumped on it without hesitation. He did this with a kick to the owner and tore off for the gate. The security arm came down and a man came out with a machine gun. If he only had a dollar for every time someone tried to block him off this way. He revved the bike to as fast as he could push it on the distance. To block the machine gun fire, he pulled the bike into a wheelie and revved even harder. The small motorbike propelled off the mans body just enough to clear the security arm. This left the security guard moaning on the concrete. Bond still had to make up some serious distance in order to catch the shipment of toxic meat on it’s way to be shipped to dozens of unknown locations around the world. Only the mastermind of this crime knew those locations. Because of damage to the industry, Bond was supposed to destroy the operation like an industrial accident. It got a little out of hand. Speaking of industrial accidents, as Bond crested a hill almost a mile away from the plant, his cell phone vibrated at the bottom of the chemical vat. The resulting fireball engulfed that entire section, leaving none of the poison behind. Good thing that the division was able to test it first.
Bond’s reputation in a chase didn’t often involve caution. As he raced between cars, down the middle line and the sidewalks, he served it well. He actually caught up with the sedan and truck in fairly short order. He didn’t bother to note the expression of surprise on the mastermind’s face has he streaked past to the cab of the truck. With another rev of speed, Bond jumped a foot up onto the seat and used that to jump onto the side of the truck’s cab. He found a place to brace his foot on the back of the cab and ripped the door open. Before the driver could respond he found himself falling through the air to the road below. Bond entered the cab with a propelled double kick to the passenger’s jaw, rendering him unconscious. He took the first side road he found and pressed the gas. The sedan followed suit. No doubt, they wanted their shipment back.
They followed the truck into an open scenic area away from the highway. To their surprise it came to a stop almost calmly.
“Now, once and for all, we kill James Bond,” the boss said to his driver. They split up to either side of the truck and met on either side of the cab. They both threw the doors open to find no one within. “Impossible! Find him!”
The driver walked back along the side of the truck. About halfway, Bond landed on him from above. Fortunately, their approach with the car only allowed them to see one side of the truck. Bond climbed on top from the other side. In one swift movement, James broke the driver’s neck and rolled under the truck to his final target. A low kick to the leg brought the crime boss down and he dropped his gun. Bond set on him in a flash and punched him in the face several times. He yanked the boss to his feet and slammed the man against the side of the truck.
“Now I wonder, if you’d like to have some dinner with me? I wonder if you’d like a nice mouthful of the poison you were about to slaughter innocent families with?”
Suddenly the wind rose and stirred up dust around them. A helicopter? He didn’t hear any ‘whupping’ noise and the sky appeared clear. Bond punched out the crime boss and drew his gun. A strange grinding sound filled the air. For a moment he saw nothing, then, like a ghost out of the ether, the tall blue police box materialized. Bond shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Maybe it was the chemicals? He kept his weapon trained on the box as the door opened.
“You won’t need that,” said the Doctor as he stepped out.
“Who are you and what is going on here?”
“I’m the Doctor. You are James Bond and I need your help.”
Bond paused, still trying to process the fact that an antique police box just materialized out of thin air. As a general rule, not much startles James Bond, but the TARDIS would test that to it’s limits. He put his gun back in it’s holster and walked back over to his original quarry, lying unconscious on the ground.
“What are you going to do with him?” the Doctor asked.
“He was about kill thousands of families with tainted sausage to crash the meat industry. I think I’m going to send him off with his precious poisoned meat.”
“Don’t kill him.”
Bond spun with a jerk, “Are you kidding?”
“No. I don’t kill and for a while, I don’t want you to kill either. Call your people or who ever and have them come and get him, you can destroy the meat any way you like.”
The fire Bond set could be seen for miles. Once he set everything up he couldn’t deny his curiosity about the Doctor and his machine. He stepped up to the door and the Doctor opened it.
“So what did you do with him?”
“I tied him up.” Bond paused to take in the sight of the interior of the TARDIS.
Outside, the crime boss woke on the hood of his car, tied spread eagle with a sausage in his mouth. He spit out the meat and cringed at how close the flames where.
“Mr. Bond!” he screamed, but the TARDIS had gone. He felt something vibrate at his beltline, a cell phone. “What? MR. BOND!”
“It will take some getting used to,” the Doctor said.
“I can see that. So what did you need with me?”
“I’ll explain all that once we’ve picked up just two more people. Ah! We’ve landed.”
They stepped out of the TARDIS and into a room of older style. Two comfortable looking chairs faced a cold fireplace. A score of décor and books lined up on the mantle. Between the chairs a tea tray held a container of pipe tobacco. A newspaper on a desk read 1880. The Doctor nodded at the sight of it.
“To what do I owe the intrusion?” The tall man in the doorway wore a red smoking jacket and held a cup of Earl Grey on a small saucer. His long narrow face housed eyes that made even Bond feel exposed from every angle.
“Hello,” the Doctor said, “we’ve come to ask your help.”
“With what?”
“Aren’t you just a little concerned with the big blue box in your study?” Bond asked, “You seem very calm for something this strange.”
“My good man, the blue box is what you arrived here in. It’s obvious. It’s also clear to me that you didn’t come here to rob or attack me, you would have done it by now and been gone. You are both a very long way from home and that tells me this is of the utmost importance. You in particular, (he pointed at the Doctor) wouldn’t have come here otherwise. I’ll get my things.”
Bond stared in confusion.
“James Bond, meet Sherlock Holmes,” the Doctor introduced them.
The dimensions of the TARDIS un-nerved Bond and he didn’t trust either of his new companions. Holmes came across as far too cool under the circumstances. He walked into the TARDIS and hardly batted an eye at the dimensional change. Walking into an object that’s massively larger inside than outside reminded Bond of gaining his “sea legs” in the Royal Navy. It’s a disconcerting thing that requires getting used to. With one more person to pick up, Bond couldn’t help but wonder what he walked into this time.
Africa, deep into the west coast, where the jungle knows no mercy. In 1910 and even to this day, there lies unexplored areas of these jungles that accept the foot fall of no common man.
“Look, we didn’t want any trouble, we’re just missionaries,” said the man, begging for his life. He and three others brought bibles and sought out tribes along a dark river to spread the good word. What they got was a crew of river pirates who could care less.
“It’s okay,” said one with a mouth of crooked teeth and breath that could wilt foliage, “We aren’t offended by you, we just want to watch you die.”
A long familiar jungle howl snapped the smile off his face and made him search the scene with frantic eyes. He pointed his sword at another pirate, “You said he doesn’t come here!”
“I didn’t think he would,” said the skinnier pirate with even less teeth and gnarled facial hair.
Before the missionaries could look to each other in confusion, a large muscular body landed on the deck with a heavy thud. The pirate who spoke of their dying was the first to fly off the boat to the waiting crocodiles. He stood tall and powerful with muscle rippling in places you couldn’t imagine. Long brown hair flowed about his shoulders with bits of vine and grass in it. A loin wrap and knife were all the beastial man wore. He beat his chest and threw back his head for another mighty howl that sent hardened pirates leaping from the boat in terror. None of them made it to the banks, thanks to the crocodiles. What kind of man could inspire such terror in hardened killers? Only one in those jungles.
“Tarzan! NO! Please!” begged the second pirate as he backed away and dropped his blade.
The man, known as the great white ape, glared. He back handed one charging pirate with the ease of shooing a fly away, sending a body tumbling across the deck. He leapt over and snatched that pirate into the air with one powerful arm.
“No? Please?” Tarzan asked in his fury, “You were warned, and now you beg? I told you to stay away, I told you to leave. It is too late to beg.”
He threw the man over his shoulder as if tossing away a piece of rotten fruit. Over the edge and to his end he went.
Tarzan walked over to the wide eyed captives, “Relax, I will not harm you.” He broke their bonds and brought them to there feet. “Now take this boat and follow the current of the river to the ocean. Leave, and do not come back.”
“Mr, Tarzan, sir, we brought bibles and we..”
Tarzan cut him off with a powerful glare that made the man wet himself, “NO, leave. I can only guarantee your safety for that. If you return, the jungle will kill you.”
Tarzan leapt from the boat and vanished into the jungle. He watched them take control of the boat and do as he asked. He followed them to the ocean, occasionally making his presence known to a predator that these people were not on the menu. Few things in the jungle ever crossed the will of Lord Tarzan. He watched the boat float out onto the ocean and that’s when he heard the strange grinding sound on the air. The sand on the beach stirred about oddly and the blue box appeared from nowhere.
“Sorcery!” muttered Tarzan and he continued to watch as three men stepped out of the box.
“So where are we now?” Bond asked.
“1910, the jungles of Africa,” the Doctor swept an arm in presentation.
“Do you think he will come willing to you?” Sherlock asked.
“Oh you are good, I didn’t even say who we are here for, Mr. Holmes. Very good indeed. Oh, I’m sure he’s around close, probably watching us right now. Unless I missed, and I usually don’t, he just sent a group of missionaries packing in that boat out there.”
“Who are you, sorcerer, and why are you here?” thundered a voice from the trees.
“Ah, there he is. I’m the Doctor and these men are James Bond and Sherlock Holmes. We’ve come to seek out the Lord of the jungle.”
Tarzan stepped out into view, “I am here. What do you want of me, Doctor?”
“Tarzan, I need your help against something more terrible than any one of us can handle. We need your strength.”
Tarzan walked up to the men, “Explain.”
“Alright, now that we are all standing here together, I think it’s high time I told you all what we are dealing with. Brace yourselves, because what we are dealing with is a murder, the murder of time itself.”
A fan fiction by DJ Wilde
The console hummed consistently to the satisfaction of it’s lone operator. The press of a button, flip of a few switches, and dusting with a hand kerchief gave the Doctor reason to nod approval. As he tucked the kerchief away he surveyed his surroundings inside the golden glow of the TARDIS. TARDIS, an acronym for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space, the transportation of a Time Lord. He adjusted his dark pin-striped suit and shifted a little in his red tennis shoes. His skin pulled tight across his authorative chin as he thought to himself. Yes, all seemed to be in order.
A powerful lurch threw him to the floor so that, for a moment, all that could be seen of him were his red tennis shoes up in the air.
“What?” he bellowed as he leapt to his feet and started smacking at controls and spinning dials.
Another lurch, harder than the first, threw him again. This time a shudder ran through the TARDIS that kept him on the floor. From across the control room he saw the distortion wave coming at him. The floor and walls rippled in it’s wake like the view of a funhouse mirror. He rolled under the console and slid a panel open with a whip of a wrist. He plunged his hand through a tangle of wires as the distortion closed in on him and grasped at a wide handle. He gave the handle hard twist and the center of the console glowed red. The baritone ‘bong’ of the cloister bell echoed through the room. The center column rose and fell with a grinding sound as a ball of red light grew in it’s center. With the distortion inches from his face he gave the handle a pull with another hard twist. The red light pulsed through the room and the wave dissolved. The Doctor rolled out and scrambled to his feet. His mind raced at what occurred. He didn’t have time to think.
“Hello, Doctor.”
At the center console a large image of a man’s head floated above it, smiling at him. He didn’t find the face familiar, but the chuckle haunted him to both his hearts.
“Who are you?”
“You already know who I am, Doctor. You have merely to say my name.”
“That’s impossible, you died in my arms. I watched your funeral pyre.”
“You know better than that! How many times have I thwarted death? How many times have I returned to challenge you anew? Say my name!”
“ You’re the Master.”
“Yes, Doctor, I am. I’m contacting you so that you know it’s time to come home. Come home, Doctor and see what I have done. Oh, but before you do, I sent you some information on your scanners, you should take a good look at it. Then come home, Doctor, I’ll be waiting for you.”
The image vanished with that chuckle still ringing in the Doctor’s ears. He stepped over to the main console and switched on a monitor. He hoped against hope, it wasn’t what he thought it was.
“No,” he murmured, “It can’t be. I didn’t think even you were capable of that.” He stepped back in a stupor. He shook his head and shrugged it off.
“Well, we can’t just stand by and let that happen can we?”
He virtually attacked the controls in a frenzy of turns, twists and flips of switches. He pounded a panel with a mallet and gave one side a swift kick.
“Well, come on then, show me! Show me!” he slapped a hand across the side of a monitor and it flickered before showing him an image. “Alright then, off we go!”
* * * *
The white lab coat he took fit a little snug across broad shoulders. He didn’t have time to be choosy, he had a job to do. He walked briskly past like-dressed workers in the big meat packing plant near Hamburg, Germany. He only paid attention to them with his peripheral vision as he needed to look like he knew exactly where he was going. He crossed the catwalks with hardly a second glance and made it to the sausage section. That’s where he walked up to a back door and swiped a stolen passcard for entry. He moved into a new sausage section and a place with a pair of large vats of swirling fluid. He brought out his cell phone and flipped it open. The press of a few buttons activated the mini Geiger counter. The high red reading didn’t surprise him thanks to the smell. Dangerous chemicals were processing below him, his mission was half realized.
“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” the voice came to him from an opposite catwalk, “James Bond, you are hard to kill. Well you won’t be walking away from here. My men around you will see to that this time.”
Someone gave him a shove from behind. The cell phone toppled from his hand and into the chemical vat below.
“I’m sure you won’t mind if I don’t stick around to see you cut up into little chunks. I have a delivery of our special sausage to make and about a hundred thousand people to kill.”
The current nemesis walked away as a chainsaw roared to life directly to Bond’s right. The man behind him backed away slightly with a revolver still aimed at the back of Bond’s head. The thug with the chainsaw made a wide swing, apparently expecting him to just stand there and get killed. When he ducked the saw hit the hand holding the revolver. Bond spun around behind that man and gave him a hard shove toward the chainsaw and the railing. Over he went and landed with a scream and splash. Bond immediately had to dodge another saw attempt that ended with the tool stuck in a piece of machinery. Bond kicked him in the back of a knee and shoved his face into the base of that machine. A narrow miss from a man swinging a long hook tore the lab coat and caught on it. Bond shrugged out of it and wrapped it around the man’s attacking hand. He jerked this new attacker into a line of machine gun fire. He threw the dead man down on the catwalk and raced across it with bullets singing off metal surroundings. The shooter kept well within good cover so he didn’t have a direct shot with his Walther PPK. Instead Bond took note of the hot pipes over the shooters head. One well placed bullet had the man screaming and leaping out of his hiding place. Another bullet finished the job. Bond ran down another line of catwalk, knowing he had to stop his target from making that fatal delivery. Outside, the truck already left the gate with his quarry in a sedan behind it. A man stepped out in the way ahead with another meat hook. A pile of chain made a good weapon of opportunity and it found it’s way into the new target’s face. Three men were gathering just below him. He threw the chain around a support pole and jumped on to it like a fireman with one leg around it and the other free to kick the closest worker in the face. The chain came away from the pole in perfect arc to hit the other two and leave them writhing in agony on the ground.
Just outside he found a motorcycle and jumped on it without hesitation. He did this with a kick to the owner and tore off for the gate. The security arm came down and a man came out with a machine gun. If he only had a dollar for every time someone tried to block him off this way. He revved the bike to as fast as he could push it on the distance. To block the machine gun fire, he pulled the bike into a wheelie and revved even harder. The small motorbike propelled off the mans body just enough to clear the security arm. This left the security guard moaning on the concrete. Bond still had to make up some serious distance in order to catch the shipment of toxic meat on it’s way to be shipped to dozens of unknown locations around the world. Only the mastermind of this crime knew those locations. Because of damage to the industry, Bond was supposed to destroy the operation like an industrial accident. It got a little out of hand. Speaking of industrial accidents, as Bond crested a hill almost a mile away from the plant, his cell phone vibrated at the bottom of the chemical vat. The resulting fireball engulfed that entire section, leaving none of the poison behind. Good thing that the division was able to test it first.
Bond’s reputation in a chase didn’t often involve caution. As he raced between cars, down the middle line and the sidewalks, he served it well. He actually caught up with the sedan and truck in fairly short order. He didn’t bother to note the expression of surprise on the mastermind’s face has he streaked past to the cab of the truck. With another rev of speed, Bond jumped a foot up onto the seat and used that to jump onto the side of the truck’s cab. He found a place to brace his foot on the back of the cab and ripped the door open. Before the driver could respond he found himself falling through the air to the road below. Bond entered the cab with a propelled double kick to the passenger’s jaw, rendering him unconscious. He took the first side road he found and pressed the gas. The sedan followed suit. No doubt, they wanted their shipment back.
They followed the truck into an open scenic area away from the highway. To their surprise it came to a stop almost calmly.
“Now, once and for all, we kill James Bond,” the boss said to his driver. They split up to either side of the truck and met on either side of the cab. They both threw the doors open to find no one within. “Impossible! Find him!”
The driver walked back along the side of the truck. About halfway, Bond landed on him from above. Fortunately, their approach with the car only allowed them to see one side of the truck. Bond climbed on top from the other side. In one swift movement, James broke the driver’s neck and rolled under the truck to his final target. A low kick to the leg brought the crime boss down and he dropped his gun. Bond set on him in a flash and punched him in the face several times. He yanked the boss to his feet and slammed the man against the side of the truck.
“Now I wonder, if you’d like to have some dinner with me? I wonder if you’d like a nice mouthful of the poison you were about to slaughter innocent families with?”
Suddenly the wind rose and stirred up dust around them. A helicopter? He didn’t hear any ‘whupping’ noise and the sky appeared clear. Bond punched out the crime boss and drew his gun. A strange grinding sound filled the air. For a moment he saw nothing, then, like a ghost out of the ether, the tall blue police box materialized. Bond shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Maybe it was the chemicals? He kept his weapon trained on the box as the door opened.
“You won’t need that,” said the Doctor as he stepped out.
“Who are you and what is going on here?”
“I’m the Doctor. You are James Bond and I need your help.”
Bond paused, still trying to process the fact that an antique police box just materialized out of thin air. As a general rule, not much startles James Bond, but the TARDIS would test that to it’s limits. He put his gun back in it’s holster and walked back over to his original quarry, lying unconscious on the ground.
“What are you going to do with him?” the Doctor asked.
“He was about kill thousands of families with tainted sausage to crash the meat industry. I think I’m going to send him off with his precious poisoned meat.”
“Don’t kill him.”
Bond spun with a jerk, “Are you kidding?”
“No. I don’t kill and for a while, I don’t want you to kill either. Call your people or who ever and have them come and get him, you can destroy the meat any way you like.”
The fire Bond set could be seen for miles. Once he set everything up he couldn’t deny his curiosity about the Doctor and his machine. He stepped up to the door and the Doctor opened it.
“So what did you do with him?”
“I tied him up.” Bond paused to take in the sight of the interior of the TARDIS.
Outside, the crime boss woke on the hood of his car, tied spread eagle with a sausage in his mouth. He spit out the meat and cringed at how close the flames where.
“Mr. Bond!” he screamed, but the TARDIS had gone. He felt something vibrate at his beltline, a cell phone. “What? MR. BOND!”
“It will take some getting used to,” the Doctor said.
“I can see that. So what did you need with me?”
“I’ll explain all that once we’ve picked up just two more people. Ah! We’ve landed.”
They stepped out of the TARDIS and into a room of older style. Two comfortable looking chairs faced a cold fireplace. A score of décor and books lined up on the mantle. Between the chairs a tea tray held a container of pipe tobacco. A newspaper on a desk read 1880. The Doctor nodded at the sight of it.
“To what do I owe the intrusion?” The tall man in the doorway wore a red smoking jacket and held a cup of Earl Grey on a small saucer. His long narrow face housed eyes that made even Bond feel exposed from every angle.
“Hello,” the Doctor said, “we’ve come to ask your help.”
“With what?”
“Aren’t you just a little concerned with the big blue box in your study?” Bond asked, “You seem very calm for something this strange.”
“My good man, the blue box is what you arrived here in. It’s obvious. It’s also clear to me that you didn’t come here to rob or attack me, you would have done it by now and been gone. You are both a very long way from home and that tells me this is of the utmost importance. You in particular, (he pointed at the Doctor) wouldn’t have come here otherwise. I’ll get my things.”
Bond stared in confusion.
“James Bond, meet Sherlock Holmes,” the Doctor introduced them.
The dimensions of the TARDIS un-nerved Bond and he didn’t trust either of his new companions. Holmes came across as far too cool under the circumstances. He walked into the TARDIS and hardly batted an eye at the dimensional change. Walking into an object that’s massively larger inside than outside reminded Bond of gaining his “sea legs” in the Royal Navy. It’s a disconcerting thing that requires getting used to. With one more person to pick up, Bond couldn’t help but wonder what he walked into this time.
Africa, deep into the west coast, where the jungle knows no mercy. In 1910 and even to this day, there lies unexplored areas of these jungles that accept the foot fall of no common man.
“Look, we didn’t want any trouble, we’re just missionaries,” said the man, begging for his life. He and three others brought bibles and sought out tribes along a dark river to spread the good word. What they got was a crew of river pirates who could care less.
“It’s okay,” said one with a mouth of crooked teeth and breath that could wilt foliage, “We aren’t offended by you, we just want to watch you die.”
A long familiar jungle howl snapped the smile off his face and made him search the scene with frantic eyes. He pointed his sword at another pirate, “You said he doesn’t come here!”
“I didn’t think he would,” said the skinnier pirate with even less teeth and gnarled facial hair.
Before the missionaries could look to each other in confusion, a large muscular body landed on the deck with a heavy thud. The pirate who spoke of their dying was the first to fly off the boat to the waiting crocodiles. He stood tall and powerful with muscle rippling in places you couldn’t imagine. Long brown hair flowed about his shoulders with bits of vine and grass in it. A loin wrap and knife were all the beastial man wore. He beat his chest and threw back his head for another mighty howl that sent hardened pirates leaping from the boat in terror. None of them made it to the banks, thanks to the crocodiles. What kind of man could inspire such terror in hardened killers? Only one in those jungles.
“Tarzan! NO! Please!” begged the second pirate as he backed away and dropped his blade.
The man, known as the great white ape, glared. He back handed one charging pirate with the ease of shooing a fly away, sending a body tumbling across the deck. He leapt over and snatched that pirate into the air with one powerful arm.
“No? Please?” Tarzan asked in his fury, “You were warned, and now you beg? I told you to stay away, I told you to leave. It is too late to beg.”
He threw the man over his shoulder as if tossing away a piece of rotten fruit. Over the edge and to his end he went.
Tarzan walked over to the wide eyed captives, “Relax, I will not harm you.” He broke their bonds and brought them to there feet. “Now take this boat and follow the current of the river to the ocean. Leave, and do not come back.”
“Mr, Tarzan, sir, we brought bibles and we..”
Tarzan cut him off with a powerful glare that made the man wet himself, “NO, leave. I can only guarantee your safety for that. If you return, the jungle will kill you.”
Tarzan leapt from the boat and vanished into the jungle. He watched them take control of the boat and do as he asked. He followed them to the ocean, occasionally making his presence known to a predator that these people were not on the menu. Few things in the jungle ever crossed the will of Lord Tarzan. He watched the boat float out onto the ocean and that’s when he heard the strange grinding sound on the air. The sand on the beach stirred about oddly and the blue box appeared from nowhere.
“Sorcery!” muttered Tarzan and he continued to watch as three men stepped out of the box.
“So where are we now?” Bond asked.
“1910, the jungles of Africa,” the Doctor swept an arm in presentation.
“Do you think he will come willing to you?” Sherlock asked.
“Oh you are good, I didn’t even say who we are here for, Mr. Holmes. Very good indeed. Oh, I’m sure he’s around close, probably watching us right now. Unless I missed, and I usually don’t, he just sent a group of missionaries packing in that boat out there.”
“Who are you, sorcerer, and why are you here?” thundered a voice from the trees.
“Ah, there he is. I’m the Doctor and these men are James Bond and Sherlock Holmes. We’ve come to seek out the Lord of the jungle.”
Tarzan stepped out into view, “I am here. What do you want of me, Doctor?”
“Tarzan, I need your help against something more terrible than any one of us can handle. We need your strength.”
Tarzan walked up to the men, “Explain.”
“Alright, now that we are all standing here together, I think it’s high time I told you all what we are dealing with. Brace yourselves, because what we are dealing with is a murder, the murder of time itself.”
Monday, October 5, 2009
Remembering Heroes
I know I’ve mentioned that I grew up with no one knowing I had Asperger’s Syndrome. It made things quite a challenge for any who dealt with me and there were those who gave up. I’m not writing to talk about them today. Today, I want to pay my undying respect to those who took one extra step beyond and never, no never, gave up on me.
The first person I want to talk about, taught me in Boy’s Chorus at Irving Jr High in 1982. I have to say that Junior High years were the hardest on me. I had a heavy helping of bullies and general difficulty. Matters at home were no different and I felt depression’s grip icily on my heart.
I started storming out of classes because I simply felt so overwhelmed. I couldn’t handle the fact that I had no safe haven. I couldn’t process all of what happened around me and I had no idea why. So, I started considering suicide. No, no one knew of this, not even Ms. Paula Baack, my chorus teacher.
Ms. Baack gave me an example in life that made me change my mind about how long I wanted to live. She never knew this until I emailed her recently. One very special day changed everything and started me thinking. I got very upset that day and I stormed for that door, like I had several times before. What she said froze me in my tracks.
“David, if you go out that door, we are through!”
No one had ever said anything like that to me before and I couldn’t imagine what a dire consequence it meant I faced. All the same, it flipped a switch somewhere in me that no one else had managed to find. I turned and slowly walked back to my seat. The rest of the class could only stare in total amazement.
Ms. Baack is, to this day, a great teacher and powerful performer in her own right, but she can do one other thing better than most teachers I ever met. She could and still can reach the student. She reached me at Death’s door, even though she had no idea that such an event lay so close to me.
So I emailed her recently and explained the truth of all that I was living through at the time. I told her about the discovery of my autism and how it likely had great effect on my behavior and decisions. I thanked her for all she did back then. Then I got a surprise. As it turned out, my email went to her on a critical day in her life and affected a powerful decision in her life. Isn’t it amazing how one moment in a child’s life can carry with them forever. On moment can mean the difference between life and death.
God bless Ms. Paula Baack and every teacher out there who can be even residually like her.
The first person I want to talk about, taught me in Boy’s Chorus at Irving Jr High in 1982. I have to say that Junior High years were the hardest on me. I had a heavy helping of bullies and general difficulty. Matters at home were no different and I felt depression’s grip icily on my heart.
I started storming out of classes because I simply felt so overwhelmed. I couldn’t handle the fact that I had no safe haven. I couldn’t process all of what happened around me and I had no idea why. So, I started considering suicide. No, no one knew of this, not even Ms. Paula Baack, my chorus teacher.
Ms. Baack gave me an example in life that made me change my mind about how long I wanted to live. She never knew this until I emailed her recently. One very special day changed everything and started me thinking. I got very upset that day and I stormed for that door, like I had several times before. What she said froze me in my tracks.
“David, if you go out that door, we are through!”
No one had ever said anything like that to me before and I couldn’t imagine what a dire consequence it meant I faced. All the same, it flipped a switch somewhere in me that no one else had managed to find. I turned and slowly walked back to my seat. The rest of the class could only stare in total amazement.
Ms. Baack is, to this day, a great teacher and powerful performer in her own right, but she can do one other thing better than most teachers I ever met. She could and still can reach the student. She reached me at Death’s door, even though she had no idea that such an event lay so close to me.
So I emailed her recently and explained the truth of all that I was living through at the time. I told her about the discovery of my autism and how it likely had great effect on my behavior and decisions. I thanked her for all she did back then. Then I got a surprise. As it turned out, my email went to her on a critical day in her life and affected a powerful decision in her life. Isn’t it amazing how one moment in a child’s life can carry with them forever. On moment can mean the difference between life and death.
God bless Ms. Paula Baack and every teacher out there who can be even residually like her.
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