Live Blogging the 1st International Gathering of Terry Jacks Fan Clubs

Seasons In The Sun, Poppy Family



1:17 pm: Whew! Never done this before, so bare with me! (Bear? Doesn’t seem right, does it? But let’s keep our clothes on! LOL!) Anyway, bumpy road ahead!

1:42 pm: Long time readers here at Suzy’s You Go, Girl! know that I always have a song in my heart. I live the music and the music lives in me! So you can imagine how excited I was to hear about this 1st International Gathering of Terry Jacks Fan Clubs. My little TJFC (Terry Jacks Fan Club) has always been a labor of love. As many of you know, it’s strictly an online thing, because our members hail from all corners of the globe! Including the Phillipines and Chile! So, to actually meet fellow fans of one of the great under-rated Canadian musicians of all time, in the flesh, is quite something, let me tell you.  Hats off to Lorri Steinbach and her husband Phil for making this dream a reality!

1:48 pm: Your reporter isn’t exactly a world traveler, so excuse me if I ask When did they stop serving snacks on airplanes? Is this a recent thing? Is it too much to ask for a little morning muffin or a little box of Cheerios and some milk? Yes, I know it’s a short flight (Pittsburgh to Charlotte) but really. And then $2 for a bottle of water? Really? $215 roundtrip and you can’t even get a banana.
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The End Is Near, Update and Excerpt

I knew it was time to let the book go to the printer when I started changing the title. I kept it long enough to move the release date from 9/28/10 to a Tuesday (undetermined) in October.

Here’s the front cover at left, plus another excerpt below. You’ll find the full printer’s proof of the cover design at the bottom.

Now, I can start tinkering with the website. Hey, we’re getting there.


June 22nd, early am

I wasn’t going to do this. Leave a suicide note.

People in my position, in extremis, as it were, often delude themselves with the notion that they have something special—or necessary—to impart, at the end. As if the last moments of life were some grand stage and the mere proximity of death might confer some great wisdom.

But what is there to say, really? Not much, in most cases. Why am I killing myself? For the same reason anyone does, I guess. The less said, the better.

Tonight, though, that changed. My simple suicide has become a murder-suicide. Before I kill myself, I’m going to confront Randy Trent with his crimes of long ago. Then I’m going to kill him. I may torment him a bit in the days leading up to that confrontation.

That’s why I’m writing this tonight, instead of being dead. That’s why you’re reading this.
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The End Is Near

Where have I been?

Completing the multitude of tasks, large and small, that attend the approach of a new book’s release date. The jacket needs work; the website needs work; proofs must be read and re-read; reviews must be sought.

Sample chapters are usually a buzzkill on a blog, but here’s Chapter One anyway. Eventually this and a few more chapters will be up at

Everything’s finalized; “The End Is Near” will be out the last week of September.



The End Is Near

Chapter One

The first Angel of Death came to me on my seventh day here.

My seventh conscious day, I should say.

I woke from a sweaty, haunted nap and there she was, sitting in the wooden chair by the door.

Napping is most of what I do here at the Hudson Maxim Long-Term Care and Rehabilitation Unit, since I emerged from five weeks of coma, minus my jaw and a lot of my face, my head a beanbag of buckshot. Napping and filling one notepad after another with hastily scribbled replies and requests.

“Well! Hi there!” the Angel of Death said.
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I Got A Rock

(c)1966 United Feature Syndicate, Inc.

(c)1966 United Feature Syndicate, Inc.

There’s nothing laugh-out-loud-funny happening in It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. In fact, except for a couple of wry comments geared toward an adult’s sense of humor (Lucy reneges on her promise not to pull the football away from Charlie Brown by noting that the contract she has signed hasn’t been notarized), there are no jokes in it at all. So when my son laughed while he was watching it, I looked up from my laptop to see what was funny. Charlie Brown and the gang were trick-or-treating in their neighborhood.

I went back to my work and when my son laughed again, louder this time, I asked him, “What’s funny?”

Owen looked up at me, a big grin on his face. “I got a rock!” he said.

“Oh,” I said.

I’ve seen It’s The Great Pumpkin probably twenty times in my life, and I always enjoy it. Many people possess a vague, hazy memory of this holiday cartoon as some sort of heartwarming, uplifting family entertainment. But I’ve seen it enough to know it’s nothing of the kind.
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