Thomas R. Ruffin

Ok,  here is the latest info on the launch event.  It is confirmed now that we will be at The Irish Frog in Clinton on Friday, October 14, from 9 - 11 pm.  The Irish Frog is the perfect location for our gathering.  The food is excellent and the staff is top notch.  They have a full service bar and there will be live music that evening.  Joshua Welch, the owner of The Irish Frog, has been very gracious in allowing us to be there.  When you see him there that night thank him and be sure to take advantage of the drink specials he will be offering to our group.  If you are coming in from out of town there are several hotels within a short distance from The Irish Frog.  Josh and I will arrive at 9 pm and you may purchase a copy of The Mudhole Collection and we'll be happy to sign it for you.  We'll stay until about 11  pm, maybe later.  There has been some discussion about an "after party", not sure where yet but you can be certain it will be memorable.

If you can't make it on Friday night, we will be at Pentimento Books, in downtown Clinton, on Saturday afternoon from 1 - 3 pm.  So join us there.  Thank you Toni Wall for having us.  We look forward to seeing everyone.       

The Mudhole Collection cover has been decided upon and I must say I'm quite pleased with it.  My friend, John Hicks, took the cover photo and I was torn between two photos of his that were equally beautiful.  John is a talented photographer.  Josh Rushing is busy doing whatever illustrators do ... illustrate I suppose.  The entire manuscript is to be submitted to the publisher by September 5, and hopefully there wont be too many corrections to be made when the proof comes back. 

Then, of course, we will make a few appearances beginning with two launch party locations in Jackson on October 14 .. followed by a few dates on the road the next week.  All in all it has been a good experience.  This is my third book and it doesn't seem to get any easier  ... this one was especially difficult with regard to content .. there are some very emotion infused pieces in this collection. 

Also, my mother passed away unexpectedly in July and our family is still trying to figure out how to cope and go forward without her.   She was everything to me and I regret that I didn't spend more time with her ... all she ever wanted of me was to be happy ... and in some respects I think she thought that I was not happy .. if I were ever sad it certainly was not of her doing.  I desire but another conversation with her ... just one more.

So, this book is dedicated to my mother who I'm certain, by now, has sought out and located her own mother in that place we call Heaven ... and the two of them have surely taken a drive .. in no particular direction with no certain destination  ... that's just how they were.

Hope to see as many people as we can on October 14 ... it should be a blast if the last two launch parties are any indication. 

Yes, I can see it ... the light at the end of the tunnel.  A few more weeks and I should have the content of the new book (The Mudhole Collection) ready.  Then it's proofed and reproofed ... then it's off to press.  A tentative but highly likely release date is October 14, 2011.  A few appearances are scheduled an I hope to see everyone there.  I'll be there with my illustrator, neighbor and good friend - Josh Rushing. 

This, my third book, will more than likely be my last poetry effort for a while .. or at least until Aliceville is completed.  Then we'll see what the future holds. 

Thanks bunches to everyone who has urged me on and encouraged me.  If not for your words of support I seriously doubt I would continue to write. 

Summer is upon us and  I plan to spend alot of time by the pool and at the lake .. certainly I will be writing all along.

Work on a project I began about two years ago has begun anew.  I am currently taking a look at placing Aliceville back at the forefront insofar as an effort at a novel is concerned.  Though Mudhole is still underway it has evolved from the novel mold to a collection of writings .. poetry and some short stories.  A few of the characters I had in mind for Mudhole will flourish rather nicely in Aliceville ... as will a few of the themes.  In essence, as writers are prone to do, I have changed my mind ... again.  It probably won't be the last.

On other fronts -- It is deer season and Wayne is in heaven.  He is happy to report that he has stopped drinking.  I'm not so certain that this pleases me for now I have no drinkin' buddy in Wahalak, MS ... unless G.Y. shows up .. then it's on .. but on most occasions there would be no one other than Wayne there to engage in worldy conversations with.  Who with, pray tell, will I now discuss important matters?  Nevertheless, I am happy for Wayne.  He has also lost weight and say that he's feeling better than ever.

The children are doing well and one more semester at the college is behind us.

So, now ....... back to work

The progress on Mudhole (the novel) is moving along steadily but slowly, however, The Mudhole Collection (poetry) is rapidly coming together.  I'm proud to announce that The Mudhole Collection will feature the illustrations of Joshua E. Rushing, a talented artist indeed.  Josh will also do the book cover.  Still hoping to release in November 2010.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS, INTRODUCTION, DEDICATION AND RAMBLINGS

     It certainly does not go without saying … a mighty big thank you to every one involved in the process of making this book possible. And it is indeed a process. There are a few people I’d like to recognize. Foremost, my familial unit … to include parents, siblings, cousins, in-laws, aunts and uncles and the like. They have not and will not fail me; I know this to be true.

     I hold a special place in my heart for educators. As fine a group of people as any other to ever walk the face of the planet. We all owe a great deal of gratitude to our teachers, especially the ones who guided us through our formative years. I regret that I am not able to recall them all by name. I do remember a few who positively influenced me as I became a young man.

      Mr. Canzoneri, who challenged me to challenge and by persistent method caused me to think. He wore sandals and tiny, circular lensed spectacles. He sported close-cropped salt and pepper hair. I didn’t know what to think of him then… now I do.

Anne Calvert (the Sarge), who taught me that establishment has its place and some folks work well within it … just not I.

     Ms. Farrar, who seemingly will never get old. To this day her beauty has not abandoned her. I’m certain she taught me valuable lessons in reading, writing, arithmetic and such but all I can recall is her demonstration to my 2nd grade class of the proper brushing of our teeth. It’s a damn wonder I didn’t become a dentist.

     Ms. O’bryan, who was just plain cool and when I saw her later she always said she remembered me. Whether she did or not she was quite encouraging of my paper on James Joyce.

     Ms. Mittie Kay Smith … I cannot begin to speak of the values and ethical foundations that she instilled in me. Although I’ve managed to violate just about every moral code ever imparted to me … I can still hear her in my minds ear in the role of the proverbial good angel on my shoulder.

     Ms. Jeff, who always had a warm smile for me (though it may have been born of sympathy … nevertheless, I liked it). She taught math and although she might as well have been speaking Mandarin Chinese … I liked being in her class.

     Countless others who, day in and day out, endeavored to teach life lessons … in my opinion, the highest calling. Because of them I am me. Not particularly intelligent but that’s no reflection on them. I’m as smart as I want to be.

     To my brothers and sisters in law enforcement. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it a thousand or more times … there is no group of people quite like cops. Everyone, in some way, is intrigued by the cop persona. If not, why then are there so many television shows, movies and books about them? The answer is quite simple … cops are seen as heroes (in most cases). They rescue the damsels in distress, they put bad guys in jail, they make the world a safer place to play and they make for interesting characters. The general population expects cops to be beyond reproach and stalwart in disposition, yet, to the surprise of many, they are merely human. These expectations and realities often clash and the results can be quite tragic. All the more reason to depict cops by way of art … they then become truly iconic.

     The mind of a veteran cop is the most haunting of places … an inescapable pit of memories of human horrors, souls sold, lives lost and failures aplenty. Because there is never an attainable and agreeable level of public satisfaction with the efforts of law enforcement it should not be so surprising that soon follows the minds of cops … unreachable self-fulfillment.  I thank my brethren and I love them dearly.

     Vicki Waters, I thank her and, as unqualified as I am to do so, I bless her. Upon reflection, if it were not for her I seriously doubt that any of my words would have ever seen the light of day. So at least I have her to blame.

     An extra special thank you to my children. They deserve the very best of the future for they have not had the best of fathers. I have failed them in countless ways. I endeavor to make amends. They are such beautiful children.

      To my current wife … and I say current because I fully expect her to leave me at any moment. She very well should. She deserves to be free of me. She has endured more than anyone should have to at my cause. It cannot be of any consolation to her that I love her.

      A writer, of the journalistic species, once asked me why I wrote so much of pain and suffering, darkness and all things depressing. My response, and what was subsequently printed, was a denial of such an assertion. After that interview I became bothered by a nagging sensation of sorts that, sometime later, I realized was caused by that particular question … or my denial rather.

      So I set out to prove the position that not only was I not primarily a “downside” artist but that my work was overwhelmingly upbeat.

      Well … upon intense self-evaluation and an analysis of my work … I did soon arrive at the conclusion that I would fail miserably in any attempt to portray my stuff as “happy” more so than not. So I sought to rationalize the seemingly predominant themes of despair that appear in my writing. On second thought, though, it was not so much a process of rationalization as it was an examination of truths … the truths of life.

      As such as it is these truths are not always pretty … they are not always happy, gleeful, cheerful or the least bit positive. In fact these truths are often downright horrific. I’m sure it has been said before … something in the way of, “we are born, we live, then we die”. For most people two of those three events are happy ones. For others the entire process is perpetual misery. I don’t claim to represent the downtrodden, the underprivileged or the underclass, yet if my writing somehow illuminates the plight of those not truly represented, then so be it. Though I think that some readers might get the sense that my aim is to speak for the masses of the maladjusted, it is not my intention to do so. Quite contrarily, or at least in a neutral sense, I have no agenda … I have neither direction nor destination.

      As preposterous as that might sound to some it makes perfect sense to me. I write from the heart or I do not write at all. I am moved by emotion or I do not move. I am guided by the most beautiful of all sensibilities … that of the soul of human beings … or I am misled.

     If by reading my words the reader(s) sense a message … it is their very own … arrived at of their own volition by their own methods. Yes, of course I know what my words mean to me and I know what events, persons and/or spiritual occurrences inspired those words. But, for my sake and the sake of the personal experience of reading and enjoying poetry, the truth shall remain within me.

      There exists, on some plane, an intensity of human emotion that is wholly indescribable by humanity. Poets have for centuries attempted to capture that emotion in a web of words of many languages. To my knowledge this feat of art … this endeavor to replicate the complexity of feeling by way of mere words … has not yet been perfected. I dare say it ever will.

      The thrust of poetry, though, is the effort given to that end … the conquest of physical and soulful sensation experienced by language. We could all attest that at some juncture in our lives we have endured or enjoyed pain or pleasure so dynamic that no combination or compilation of words could ever recreate the experience. This might very well be for the best. Nevertheless, we perpetually seek to recapture these experiences.

      In this book I’ve decided to interject, at various points, a thought or two about a particular piece here and there. Keep in mind that these random thoughts are not presented in an effort to explain or enlighten the reader with regards to meaning. Again, it is my position that this would restrict the reader’s potential for self-interpretation. I merely intend to enhance the experience.

      It is my desire that a person that reads what I have written will, upon closing the book, feel something … anything. I don’t particularly care what they feel as long as their senses have been stimulated … for better or worse. It is apathy that will be the death of me. Not my own mind you … but the apathy of others. It is my fiercest opponent … my enemy.

     Once again, no apologies for what some may consider inappropriate language. I will concede that there are inappropriate times and places for it but I write real life … as gritty as it gets. And certainly no apologies for any political, religious, racial or other tender nerves I touch. They … most likely … need to be touched.

     I’m merely a poor boy from Mississippi. I’ve lost my way on more than one occasion though I’ve always found my way home. Seasons come and go … only to return … yet I seem to be none-the-wiser. I yearn to journey and often my mind is my only available vehicle … and, yes, I re-live the past and invent the future … and, as if atop a sideways train, it sure does make for one hell of a ride.

- Thomas R. Ruffin

I was able to dust off my cleats and get back on the baseball field today.  I didn't realize how bad I really missed umpiring.  Hopefully I can do many more games.

I've been talking to my old childhood and high school buddy, Mike McDade.   Mike maintains a really cool blog http://eyesoftheheart.wordpress.com/  ... his writing is refreshing ... give it a look sometime.

Well, yes, I'm still kicking.  Someone said to me, "man, you don't update your blog too often".  So, here we go .. a few updates and inconsequential tidbits of information and of course, more random thoughts:

--  My Police Process class is winding down .. finals are fast approaching ... my students are awesome and if I could exempt them all from the final exam I would. but I CAN'T !!!  SO QUIT ASKING !!   On tap for the summer is a graduate/undergrad level class; Special Issues: Interview and Interrogation, without a doubt my favorte class to teach ... and looking further down the road the fall class will be a brand new one, Crisis Intervention.  I'm excited and thankful for the opportunity to be able to construct this class from the ground up.  The class will focus on the dynamics of situational crisis intervention with regard to law enforcement settings (suicidal subjects, barricaded susects, hostage negotiation, the dynamics of crowd behavior and much more).  Looking forward to both classes.

-- Mitchell and Peyton are once again involved in baseball and softball respectively, and thus we are at the fields at least 4 nights per week.  I love watching them play and enjoy life (as it should be) but I sure do miss umpiring.

-- Played golf the other day for the first time in months and actually hit the ball pretty decently.  I should play more often I proclaim.

-- Work on Mudhole is progressing, slowly though, and I really think that some type of adventure would open the floodgates so that the creative juices could flow more freely .. I dunno.

-- During the Tiger Woods media orgy this past winter I made several light hearted jokes about the subject on my Facebook page.  I certainly hope I didn't offend anyone  .. I truly did not intend to ... but I feel compelled to say this about the whole matter ... Tiger Woods does not owe anyone other than his spouse an apology for anything.  The bottom line is that the man cheated on his wife (not taking infidelity lightly at all) and it is none of our business.  But the media, once again, feels the need to embellish, promulgate and often downright fabricate news.  On second thought I'll refrain from further commenting on the topic as it makes my blood boil .. makes me wanna blow up my TV .

til next time ... make love not war ... be happy ... smile ... help your neighbors ... spread peace and all that goobly gobbly hippie stuff  

I would like to express my deepest sympathy to my good friend, Kevin Richards, who lost his mother this week.  "Big K", as he is affectionately known, is as good as they come.  A former co-worker of mine and friend forever, Big K has always ... always ... bent over backwards to help others.  God bless you Kevin.

Literally within hours of the passing of Kevin's mom, though, a new life began.  Scott and Jennifer Herrington were oh so proud to introduce baby Elizabeth to the world.  Scott and Jen experienced a great deal of difficulty and heartache on the path to becoming parents. Hallelujah ... there is a God ... for to deny the most capable, compassionate and worthy couple, that I've ever known, a child, would've shaken the faith of many.  

Check my facebook page for additional info on Mudhole.  Class is going well enough ...

Life is good at the moment.