The Art of morning’s Bed straightening.(for Seniors)

Almost There

It’s a forlorn hope and belief by some, that with age comes wisdom. Some say, a good politician reaches their top when over seventy. Cynics often contradict this and might well say: they only achieve that level of pure wisdom, when they are richly fermenting in the Mount Calvary cask below ground level, or sometimes, elevated above ground as in an Argentinian Mausoleum. I believe that in Buenos Aires’ La Recoleta cemetery, a number of those past buried politicians are still believed as being a little bit alive.

We did not see much evidence of life of those dearly departed souls. Many cats and dozens of volunteer ladies feeding them is as much an attraction as touring this enormous cemetery. Some of the graves are multi storied, have dining rooms and bedrooms with imagery so real of the dead, one whispers in fear of being overheard.

But, back to gaining wisdom in the search for reasons and answers of what the heck we are doing here, it pays to remain humble in its pursuits. That is if there is such a thing as getting answers. It would be nice that between birth and the veneered Mount Calvary cask we get snippets of information leading us to some rest of the anxious mind in our nodding years.

The day could not start less ambitious and humble than just making the bed without any creases in its top cover. This is what I have been trying to achieve of late. It is more than depressing to discover, just prior to hopping in, that the bed is still unmade. Those days are rare. Of course, most times H makes the bed. Her manner of bed making is perfect, a level that I want to achieve in my quest gaining better and more wisdom. Where does perfect bed making come from? It is a joy to contemplate and watch a bed without flaws before finally diving under the doona.

No matter how it is tried, the efforts I make always includes some little imperfection or fault. It might be that a sock found its way down the bottom of the bed and buried itself between sheet and mattress. To rectify that, after you completed the bed making, is dispiriting, but this has to be overcome in the search for life’s answers.

Sometimes I find that the electric blanked switch gear found itself the wrong side up, showing a lump just below the pillow. Of course, I try and cover it up by throwing a book over it. H reckons that is not honest. In any case, you can lie to others but not to yourself. You know the book was put there for a reason. Your wife might be fooled but not your conscience. It nags you, and results in your search for wisdom down a notch to boot.

I noticed the old lady higher up always puts her bed pillows in the sun on a chair. I asked her some years ago, and she said; ‘It kills germs and keeps me healthy.’ She should know. She worked her whole life as a nurse. Is that why one often sees hospital patients sitting outside in the sun? Some smoke though!

It is part of this bunched together lot of townhouses, and perhaps also old age, that things like pillows on chairs outside get noticed. Sometimes I even say to H. while driving past, ‘oh, Mrs so and so must be home, her pillows are outside.’ Sometimes, but not often, a reply might come from H, ‘oh I haven’t noticed she was gone, ‘I don’t keep an eye out for those sort of banal signals.’ Why, and how come do you? This hurts a little. I am caught out once again being involved in the triviality of life.

What hope for answers and wisdom can there be when I seem stuck between bed making and adventures at Aldi?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01EM6NC0C/ref=nav_timeline_asin?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1

The money is in the bank but have you fixed your gutters?

Just glorious.

Of course, before the writing and publishing period, a question about guttering might well involve hardware items and a trip to the hardware shop of Bunnings again. A wife would perhaps hold a ladder while husband is cleaning the gutter from leaves. Leaves always find a home inside the gutter. I can’t remember that cleaning gutters played much of a role in continental Europe. It is strange, but in Holland it was far more important to clean windows. Cultural differences are always so fascinating to reflect upon.

I remember as if it was yesterday. We had arrived at Schiphol airport, near Amsterdam. It was May, 1973. We walked through customs and into the below sea-level of Holland. The first thing I noticed after booking a night in a hotel nearby, was a solitary man standing outside on a short ladder washing his shop window. He was wearing a white jacket but wasn’t a doctor. I don’t think doctors stand on ladders cleaning outside windows.The shop was a spectacle shop. It had ‘optician’ written on the window, behind which was a display of different spectacles. This shop was all on its own with no other shops nearby.

All of a sudden I experienced a rush of recognition. Holland was still this window-cleaning paradise. It all came flooding back to the period before my families’ departure from Holland to Australia back in 1956. It was so long ago, but I felt, just for a second or so, doubtful if we had made the right move. I did feel a bit dispirited. Perhaps it was jetlag.

But, almost sixty years later I am on my second book. The gutters now involve the formatting of the pages. This time the book will be better. I am not saying that the word-order is different. The editing sorted out the worst of my crimes. After all, in my Word-Press blurb I seem to advertise grammar and syntax mistakes as an advantage and enticement. No, this time the presentation will be better. I know that in formatting one has to go for the ‘mirror option.’ It means that the margins of the book will alternate differently between the pages, facing the spine of the book. That is called the ‘gutter.’ I am also starting the different chapters or sections on a fresh page, instead of joining the previous one straight below it.

Yesterday, while checking the bank account I noticed a deposit. It came from Amazon. My first income from the previous book, ‘Almost There.’ It was a rather small amount. Enough to celebrate the event with a rack of lamb and a nice red. As yet I have to pluck up the courage to go to the local book shops and try to get the books on the shelves. In my minds eye I am preparing a little spiel on introducing myself and the book. I have to exercise and present solid confidence and a mien that oozes the successful author, with a straight look in the eyes of the bookshop owner. But, every time I come out practising the introductory sentence in the safety of home, it seems to come out reticent and hollow.

Still, it is all worthwhile and it keeps me away from washing windows while standing on a short ladder.

The definitive ‘Almost There.’

Almost There

The book has now been uploaded in a few different versions which I prefer to name ‘editions.’ The nervousness of trying to work out the self-publishing trail on CreateSpace is almost palpable. Even so, one learns from mistakes a lot more than from perfection. So, please, if looking at the different versions, the book with the least formatting and/or spelling mistakes has the cover as shown above. It is now the definitive version of ‘Almost There.’

You might well notice a version (edition) of the book whereby even the name of the author is missing. I did not intentionally choose to be that modest. It might well show up the Author to be really ‘Not there at All.’

The Kindle version has done well and the paper back book is yet to be distributed and shown on all the Amazon outlets. I have ordered a box full (40) of the paperbacks for selling in Australia. The postage from the US does almost double the price of the book. Even so, it is still priced very competitively.

In the meantime, we are hardening ourselves for the onslaught of our grandsons to come over this Friday to ‘share’ the Eurovision music festival on our TV ( with the Philips sound-bar and large woofer.) They are coming by train which both the mother and Helvi are somewhat nervous about. I reckon it will do them good. The protection of children is ridiculous. Surely, train travel is normal and not as dangerous as is made out. Of course, the world-wide beaming of the attack on a train in Germany by a German National is not helpful. Again spouted as an act of terrorism doesn’t do much in bedding down the excessive fears of travel and nourishes fear the world over of stranger danger and terrorism.

We all know that the real terrorism is flourishing within family life. In Australia, two wives/partners a week get murdered by either the husband or partner. Domestic abuse is rife and far greater that those very isolated attacks by a deranged person shouting Allah is Great, before shooting or knifing someone.

I am surprised relationships are not banned or at least looked at by consumer protection bodies such as ‘Choice’, or ICAC. If fridges had failure ratings as much as relationships they would be banned. Domestic violence ‘incidents’ as notified to the police number several hundred EACH DAY.

Next time someone whispers, ‘I love you’, go and run for your life.

Instead, read a good book.

The margins are coming for you in Paper Back.

Bartering in the USSR (Moscow)

We all knew this. The best way to learn to ride a bike is on an old one. I did on my mother’s bike more than seventy years ago. It did not have the crossbar which made hopping on easier. On my dad’s old bike I used to put one of my legs through the opening below the cross bar and managed to ride it that way. The bike would be ridden all askew at an angle because most of the body-weight was on one side of the bike. So did all of my friends. I don’t think there were even children’s bicycles available in those days. We all rode large bikes just standing up and in all sorts of manners.

I notice now that many kids drive cars to high school near where we live. There is a procession of cars with P plates driving to and from school each day. Jeez, do my grandkids expect a car in a couple of years? Even the smaller children are being driven to school at primary level as well. Huge SUVs, often coloured menacingly black queue up. The little ones, almost level with the bull-bar are scurrying to school. The mum or dad wave a bit nervously, and drive off. Many, as a matter of fashion, also combine all the manoeuvring of car and kids holding a carton beaker or cup which probably holds a coffee, obtained somewhere before, most likely perhaps pre-ordered on the mobile phone by text or other electronic messaging.

We live in a fairly small town, and where previously the foot was used as the main form of moving from a-b, now it has to be the car. If economic rationalism has at its heart a refusal to spend money on the unnecessary, who or what is now the determinant factor? Who decides? Should the customer be abolished? At the moment we must spend rather than save. Spending thousands to drive kids with legs to schools seem to be as irrational as anything.

I will just go on with my words. I am much relieved my paper back version of Almost There is also almost there. I had a heck of a time with formatting and checking the proofs. Consider yourself lucky I am still here. Boy, have I got a lot of Word files now. Next time it will be easier. The CreateSpace (Amazon) have an excellent way of helping the self-publisher with a most responsive web-site, guiding one along.

I even managed to survive the US Taxation jungle; I am now holding a “Certificate of Status of Beneficial Owner for United States Tax Withholding and Reporting (Entities).”

Almost There; ‘Fragments of a restless life.’ It sure is.

Congratulations, your book “Almost There” is now live and available

Almost There

It has been done. The book is on Amazon Kindle after days of handwringing accompanied by moments of a sobbing rage spent entangled with computer cables under the table with Milo. He understood and licked my hands. If there is a single thing that could kill off writing it would have to be getting published, even when doing it yourself.

Just try and visualise waves of relief washing over this household. The grass is now greener and all washing dries instantly, despite the rain. The toast doesn’t get burnt and all wine tastes sweet.

http://www.amazon.com.au/Almost-There-Fragments-Restless-Life-ebook/dp/B01EM6NC0C?ie=UTF8&*Version*=1&*entries*=0

It is now, supposedly, also for sale at this place; https://authors-unlimited.org/author/gerard-oosterman

The next job will be to list the book with Amazon ‘Print on Demand’ but will take some time to just relish this moment.

Thank you all for your patience and comfort giving. You have all contributed by your support and kindness.

I now wait for it all to go viral. 😉 (and check the sales coming in, Ha ha)

Your order; 1×10 ISBNs have been purchased.

The autumn is almost mid-way and the shadows are getting longer. Long shadows are so much better than none. The summers close to the equator are often harshly baked and shadowless, something that tourists ought to be informed about when contemplating a trip to the tropics or semi tropical regions. The waving stalky palms don’t offer shade as an ageing nodding oak would in milder climes.

Both of us have been re-planting things at the front of our home together with spreading cow manure and hardwood mulch. It looks better already. One sometimes wonders if gardening is not a better occupation than getting a book off the ground. In the past books could be used as door-stops or even hurled around when locked in a frustrating temper or to emphasize an argument knowing full well, we were wrong.

With e-books on Kindle or Amazon, even that little benefit might be harder to achieve. I remember and wrote previous about using a public toilet in Paris, realising too late it was sans toilet paper. In desperation I used a couple of travel cheques, noting first down the numbers for a reclaim. What was I to do; use a sock or my cotton hanky?

It took a while to understand the complexities of getting something published and thought that a friendly edit with the occasional inclusions or deletions of a couple of commas here and there would be about the worst of it.

In any case, at least with the 10 ISBN’s in possession, I feel it is at least getting there. The next move will be to push it towards a self-publish e-format that can be done through the service of the ASA ( Australia Society of Authors) which will also then suitably format it. I’ll be so pleased to actually find the book ‘Almost There,’ after searching it on the internet. I might even consider buying a couple of copies to kick it along. 😉

The published hard-print version by Austin Macauley is also still bubbling along even though, in case of a refusal or worse , the option of ‘print on demand’ by CreatSpace will be followed. The next book will be better, and having the benefit of hind-sight with better knowledge of Micro-soft Word 2013, it will be a cinch. At least a taller and larger shadow might be cast when asked; what is your occupation? ‘Oh, I am an author.’ This response has to be practised carefully and ought to be given without a slipping or sliding of dodgy eye movements. A nonchalant manner needs to be acquired, not an easy task.

In the previous picture painting days, the answer used to vary from house- painter to bank accountant, building contractor, renovator, share trader-dealer, art teacher, but rarely artist. Why was that so? I did answer ‘artist’ at the Dutch Government employment agency soon after our arrival back to Holland in 1973 with our three children. To my utter surprise a job was provided as an artist within a few days. It involved painting Dutch scenes on clock dials used in the manufacture of ‘antique’ Grandfather clocks. The following months I painted hundreds of those kind of scenes with windmills and lots of seagulls. The manager of this clock factory was very happy with them. For years I still look at shops selling those upright clocks but not once did I find an original Oosterman.

The Dilemma of an E-Reader

We all know things get worse as the years creep by. We don’t become wiser nor do we get any closer to the truth that we were so keenly after. In fact, it all becomes hazier not unlike a glass of iced water with the Pernod anise added to it but without the benefit of its sweet unctuousness. Perhaps that’s why, as we get older, we tend to throw caution to the wind and indulge in the Absinthe more often than might be good for us. Who cares? Does it really matter afterwards? I mean, we can never discount the possibility, no matter how distant, we would regret not having indulged even a bit more. So, let me be wise at least in the ‘reckless’ department.

I used to wear glasses which miraculously became superfluous in my middle years. Was I being rewarded for having been good? Who was looking after me, when I was told over and over again, that if you persist in doing that, you will go blind and encourage hairs to sprout on the inside of your hands and everybody will know!  Always keep hands above the blankets, think of ice bergs and what happened to the Titanic. Failing that, think of an approaching train with your head tied to the rails.

You are at the beginning of a calamitous journey into blindness with your right eye showing a clear stage of ‘degenerative macular’ disease. Well, not exactly in those words. But the eye specialist comforted me, with ‘it is quite common in getting older’ that eye sights might diminish somewhat. The ‘somewhat’ is something the specialist had been trained to say, depending on the level of alarm those first words of a more sinister ‘macular’ and ‘degenerative’ might cause.

Fortunately my left eye is needle sharp and I could even read the smallest print on a Jaguar car catalogue he was showing me.  I bet he had just bought a Jaguar. No doubt earned from his lucrative specialists business. I noticed his waiting room was full of patients with thick glasses, all at different levels on their macular degenerative journey! Perhaps, he was flipping through the catalogue in between patients. Good for him.

With my left eye being still close to perfect, I briefly thought of it perhaps being related to being right handed and therefore having spared my left eye in conjunction with hardly ever using my left hand. Who knows? Science sometimes brings out surprising results. If something is still working, let us still cling to the wreckage of our bodies and continue our journey to the best of our dysfunction.

This brings me to my original premise of the plight of the E-reader. It would not be surprising if the popularity of this latest electronic devise will go sky high. The canny retiree would be well advised to invest in Sony or go long on Kindle options and keep an eye out on Amazon shares. Our country and its Government are already generous in supplying hearing aids to the degenerative auditory of hearing impaired. The Prime minister would be foolish not to support generously the subsidizing of E-readers. The magic of the E-readers lies in that it can store thousands of books which can be read at different font sizes. All this is available in the palm of your hand and at the flick of a finger. The E-reader truly is magic and together with Pernod almost makes old age a dream come true…

This of course gives years of reading to those that are decrepit with batty eyes. It is not easy for those not tech savvy to download all the different features but just get your grand-kids to do that. I obstinately tried myself and now have eleven copies of Tolstoy’s’ “War and Peace”, not realizing that each time I pressed a certain page or button I would download yet another copy. I have yet to see my Credit Card account but now have eleven copies of over a thousand pages each of War and Peace together with Jules Verne Eighty days around the world and Rudyard Kipling’s, the Jungle Book. There is enough reading for at least a couple of years.

It just never stops; does it?

(With grateful acknowledgment to Frangipani, whereby, without her untiring support and encouragement, my E-Reader wonderment would most likely not have come to pass)