I made this years ago with the graphic software that was at my disposal.
In one word, Yuck!
However, I did have a new banner made courtesy of ChatGPT. What do you think?
The ramblings of a genre author.
The day after Easter Sunday, I’ll begin a new chapter of life as I retire after 30 years serving as pastor of the Heidlersburg/Mount Olivet Charge of the Church of the United Brethren in Christ. Serving these congregations has been one of the great privileges of my life.
Retirement doesn’t mean slowing down — just shifting gears. My plans include:
At 71, every day God gives me the strength to work toward these goals feels like a gift.
Short version: retirement just means I’ll be a busy little beaver in a different forest.
Keep your eyes open for a new release from yours truly. A blend of SF and detective noir.
Target is a February 28th release.Last night at my writers' group, we were given a prompt and ten minutes to respond. As February 14th is Valentine's Day, we were told to write about something or someone sweet. For your flash fiction pleasure, here is what I came up with:
Less than a week ago, he came and urgently rapped on my front door. “Craig,” he said, blocking my front door. “I need your help. I’m being hunted down by assassins and enforcers from Hershey's and Nestlé's. And the worst are those Mars Bars fanatics. I desperately need a favor!”
“Of course, Gus,” I replied. “Anything for a friend. What do you need?”
He stepped aside and ushered in a confectioner’s dream. “My masterpiece,” he said. It was a lovely and petite woman, but with one unique difference. I could see she was composed completely out of chocolate. She blinked at me and smiled, surprising me. She was a statue of sentient chocolate.
“They want her, and I won’t let them have her. Please hide her for me until I can find a better way to protect her.”
“Of course,” I said. “But what does she eat? What are her needs?”
“She needs nothing,” Gus said. “Just prop her up somewhere and don’t let her get dusty.”
And that is how Nougat came into my life.
She was a charming, albeit unique, individual. Her IQ was quite high, and needless to say, she had quite a sweet personality.
Now I know what you evil-minded readers are thinking, that I lost self-control and took an occasional nibble. But, no, her ending was far worse.
One August morning, I left for work, and when I returned, I discovered that my air conditioning had malfunctioned during the day.
Nougat had melted away into my carpet, leaving the room smelling like a confectionery.
I called Gus, but he seemed nonplussed. “It’s quite all right,” he said.
“Now I’m working on chocolate pets. Care to take on two Chocolate Labs?”
Surname (Morikawa 森川) – “Forest river.” Suggests peace, nature, and the quiet movement of life — qualities that fit your pastoral calm and your love for old, sacred places.
Given name (Tomonobu 智信) – “Wise faith.”
智 (tomo) = wisdom, intelligence, discernment
信 (nobu) = faith, trust, belief
森 (mori) – forest
Symbol of life, tranquility, and natural mystery — an echo of the sacred groves in both Shinto and early Christian imagery.
川 (kawa) – river
Represents continuity, renewal, and grace flowing through time. Together with mori, it paints a landscape of living faith amid nature: “the river through the forest.”
智 (tomo) – wisdom, discernment
Not mere knowledge, but insight guided by compassion and understanding — a trait deeply aligned with your pastoral character.
信 (nobu) – faith, trust, belief
This kanji appears in the Japanese word for faith (shinrai, 信頼) and belief (shinkō, 信仰). It’s a word of quiet conviction and reliability.
森川 智信 — “The Forest River of Wise Faith”
A soul whose wisdom flows like a river through the forest of time,
gentle yet enduring, reflecting heaven in quiet water.
His faith, like the current, shapes the stones it passes —
steadfast, serene, and full of grace.
I groaned under my breath. “Yes,” I replied. “The sun is setting.” We continued our walk around the pond that graced his property as the crickets began their nightly vigil and the bullfrogs tuned up their nocturnal chorus.
“The sun is setting,” he repeated.
“You already said that,” I shot back. “Who cares?”
“The sun is setting. The creatures of the night will be upon us soon.”
“Oh, yes,” I answered with heavy sarcasm. “Katydids and bats. We’ll be feeding the mosquitoes soon. If you’re so wired up about it, we can go back to the house.”
He paused for a moment. “The children of the night! What beautiful music they make!”
“You two-bit hack!” I snapped back. “That line is from that old Dracula movie.”
Suddenly, a huge four-legged beast burst out of the darkness and threw me to the ground. The dark form stood over me. Its open jaws dripped drool on my face, and its fetid breath threatened to suffocate me.
My friend laughed fiendishly and ran away, leaving me to my fate.
“Get off of me, Brunhilde!” I yelled at my friend’s overly friendly Saint Bernard.
That was thirty minutes ago. Brunhilde adores me and refuses to let me go.
And my friend?
That penny-a-word scribbler left me to drown in doggy drool.
I have a love/hate with artificial intelligence. There is so much of what is called AI slop out there, that I long for true human interactio...