A friend of mine, John Pearson, has published a novel about his first year as a teacher in the Texas schools. I have reviewed it here.
Check it out if you get a chance.
Take care. T
LEARN ME GOOD… A REVIEW
John Pearson has a future in stand-up comedy if he ever decides to leave the classroom. But from the tone of his stories in his book LEARN ME GOOD, it doesn’t appear that will be anytime soon. The kids he encountered in his first year teaching certainly supplied him with a wealth of material to spin his tales, all with a minimum of 10 laughs-out-loud each. And Mr. Pearson throws his own two cents in with each vignette, showing the reader that he has been bitten, and badly, by this “educamakashun thing.”
He takes us through a school year that has a steady turnover of students, some for the better, some for the worse, and makes us hear the voices of children of all manner and ability who are crying out for a good educational experience. We meet Esteban, who calls out firmly and forthrightly each time he answers, even as he gets them wrong again and again, and Marvin, who likes to choke people “just a little”, and Re’Joice, who has to defend herself against the moniker that has been hung on her. And then there’s Mark Peter, my personal favorite. He had a way of making himself invisible, borrowing from the world of professional wrestling, no less. If you can survive a kid like him, you can survive anyone who may come your way in a career.
Amidst references to “Cool Hand Luke” and “Little House on the Prairie”, John Pearson shows us that he understands this business and is going to ‘keep on keeping on’ to figure it out. It is clear the his future students will be the better for it.
As the main character Jack Woodson would say to someone who forgot his name, “Nice job, Barry.”
You have to read the book to find out what that one means.
Tom Anselm, teacher and author
YOU’RE NEVER TOO OLD FOR SPACE CAMP
Booklocker.com
2009
LEARN ME GOOD
lulu.com
2006
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Sunday, May 31, 2009
NEVER GIVE UP, NEVER GIVE UP...NEVER. NEVER. NEVER. NEVER.
A few years ago, I saved a life. No, I didn’t pull a baby out of a burning building or give someone CPR. Nothing that dramatic. All I did was pick up a little worm that was struggling across my patio and lay him (or her?...how can you tell?) in the soft wet grass. I wrote about how this seemingly insignificant act had great meaning for that oligochaete. The reason I bring this up today is that I swear I saw him (her?... how do you tell?) the other day under the patio chair and I do believe he/she/it nodded as if to say “thanks” before squirming into the yard.
There are some days we may feel just like that worm. For some reason known only to that Big Gardener in the Sky, we find ourselves struggling across some tough pavement. The sun may be beating on our backs. The concrete is getting dryer and we are starting to think it would be a whole heck of a lot easier to just shrivel up and quit. Maybe it doesn’t look like anybody is going to come by and lift us up into that cool lawn.
This may have hit home for those of us in the Boomer demographic. We are seeing our investments, if we have any, taking a nose dive unprecedented in modern economic history. There may be a lay off involved, and the subsequent deleterious effects of the ending of medical coverage, danger of mortgage default, and the sheer loss of something meaningful to do with our days. It could be a decline in health…hey, we ain’t getting any younger, sports fans. Or troubles with grown children, for whom we never really stop being mom and dad, no matter how old or far away they may be. Of course, we seasoned citizens have no corner on this market of difficulties. Those raising families face equally challenging issues such as child care and schooling and what the heck to feed this gang of mongrels who will not get off my leg for one sweet second so I can sneak downstairs and do a load of laundry before we all end up wearing plastic bags to church!
Whatever the burden, we may be looking for that somebody to pick us up off the steamy pavement. Whether this comes in the form of a kind word, a favor, or a few bucks to tide us over, the help would be welcome.
Still, none of this may happen. Then, it just takes perseverance. As in all things, bad and good, this situation we find ourselves in is temporary. And like good old Mr. or Mrs. Worm (does anyone out there know how you can tell?! Seriously!), we need to just keep on wiggling, hoping for that lift, but willing to crawl it out if need be.
In 1941, during the worst period of the German bombing of Great Britain, Winston Churchill spoke to students at his former school. That speech became one of great inspiration and hope to the beleaguered English citizenry.
His words can be ours, as we fight the good fight against what may seem like insurmountable odds.
“Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never.”
(from "A Boomer's Journal, Suburban Journals of St. Louis, MO May, 2009)
There are some days we may feel just like that worm. For some reason known only to that Big Gardener in the Sky, we find ourselves struggling across some tough pavement. The sun may be beating on our backs. The concrete is getting dryer and we are starting to think it would be a whole heck of a lot easier to just shrivel up and quit. Maybe it doesn’t look like anybody is going to come by and lift us up into that cool lawn.
This may have hit home for those of us in the Boomer demographic. We are seeing our investments, if we have any, taking a nose dive unprecedented in modern economic history. There may be a lay off involved, and the subsequent deleterious effects of the ending of medical coverage, danger of mortgage default, and the sheer loss of something meaningful to do with our days. It could be a decline in health…hey, we ain’t getting any younger, sports fans. Or troubles with grown children, for whom we never really stop being mom and dad, no matter how old or far away they may be. Of course, we seasoned citizens have no corner on this market of difficulties. Those raising families face equally challenging issues such as child care and schooling and what the heck to feed this gang of mongrels who will not get off my leg for one sweet second so I can sneak downstairs and do a load of laundry before we all end up wearing plastic bags to church!
Whatever the burden, we may be looking for that somebody to pick us up off the steamy pavement. Whether this comes in the form of a kind word, a favor, or a few bucks to tide us over, the help would be welcome.
Still, none of this may happen. Then, it just takes perseverance. As in all things, bad and good, this situation we find ourselves in is temporary. And like good old Mr. or Mrs. Worm (does anyone out there know how you can tell?! Seriously!), we need to just keep on wiggling, hoping for that lift, but willing to crawl it out if need be.
In 1941, during the worst period of the German bombing of Great Britain, Winston Churchill spoke to students at his former school. That speech became one of great inspiration and hope to the beleaguered English citizenry.
His words can be ours, as we fight the good fight against what may seem like insurmountable odds.
“Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never.”
(from "A Boomer's Journal, Suburban Journals of St. Louis, MO May, 2009)
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
IS LIFE FLYING BY OR IS IT JUST A FIG NEWTON OF MY IMAGINATION?
Sometimes is just seems like life is flying by. Before you know it, it’s Friday again. Maybe it’s a function of having a big family, or maybe it’s just the phase we’re going through. For some reason, I expected it to be different.
They say that when you hit age 40, you’re over the hill. So I guess being two decades past that, I must be slipping down that slope at a pretty good clip. When I was younger, I wondered if it would slow down some, you know, as the hair thinned and the knees creaked as much as my rocking chair. But no!
Which brings me to our youngest child’s graduation. Yeah, The Joanster, little Joansie, Joana Wee, has finished high school with flying colors and is soon to be a Tiger. Our baby is a woman!
How did this happen, all of a sudden? Wasn’t it just the other day she put on her sisters two-piece, plucked the resident cards from the junk drawer and strolled 3 blocks down to the local pool. At two years old. Jill came home and said, “Hey, where’s Joanie?” Did we panic? Is the Pope German? Running along Halls Ferry like we were on fire, pleading with people walking their dogs, hearts constricted like the Grinch’s. Thank God the life guards knew us and didn’t turn us into Social Services.
Then there’s the next one up. Mary Pat is marrying in November. Huh? Little MP, the kid who regularly donned pink snow boots and stocking cap to watch TV… in June. The athlete who should have never been allowed to run cross country, since her face always turned redder than Mark McGuire’s before Congress. THAT Mary Pat?
And did I mention the wifey is retiring. Wait just a minute here, sports fans. I got four years on her! Just kidding, since she has fought the good fight for a long time, and is definitely in line for this move.
The flip side of all these significant events, once you get past the amazement and the tears and the “Huh?’s”, is that me and that retired lady will be empty-nesters in a couple of months. The recent grad thinks that maybe we’re being a bit too giddy about this prospect, even as she “stresses out” about moving on and out. And maybe we are, but it is hard to contain our glee. It feels like a long, slow, deep breath, followed by a smile of gratitude, and accomplishment. Theirs, and ours, really. Just a memory are the years of doing the happy dance after finding a dollar in the dryer, or cashing in the coin jar to get milk and formula. Gone but not forgotten are the long nights of wondering if one child would ever stop throwing up, or another would ever get home, or still another would ever find their path.
At 60, I guess I’ve put in a good 75% of my allotted time. A glance at my own high school classlist shows a few who can’t say that. So, trust me, I’m not complaining.
But maybe I need to borrow a line from Captain James Kirk of the Starship Enterprise if things are going stay at this warp speed.
“Scottie, I need more power!”
(COURTESY THE SUBURBAN JOURNALS OF ST. LOUIS, MO MAY, 2009)
They say that when you hit age 40, you’re over the hill. So I guess being two decades past that, I must be slipping down that slope at a pretty good clip. When I was younger, I wondered if it would slow down some, you know, as the hair thinned and the knees creaked as much as my rocking chair. But no!
Which brings me to our youngest child’s graduation. Yeah, The Joanster, little Joansie, Joana Wee, has finished high school with flying colors and is soon to be a Tiger. Our baby is a woman!
How did this happen, all of a sudden? Wasn’t it just the other day she put on her sisters two-piece, plucked the resident cards from the junk drawer and strolled 3 blocks down to the local pool. At two years old. Jill came home and said, “Hey, where’s Joanie?” Did we panic? Is the Pope German? Running along Halls Ferry like we were on fire, pleading with people walking their dogs, hearts constricted like the Grinch’s. Thank God the life guards knew us and didn’t turn us into Social Services.
Then there’s the next one up. Mary Pat is marrying in November. Huh? Little MP, the kid who regularly donned pink snow boots and stocking cap to watch TV… in June. The athlete who should have never been allowed to run cross country, since her face always turned redder than Mark McGuire’s before Congress. THAT Mary Pat?
And did I mention the wifey is retiring. Wait just a minute here, sports fans. I got four years on her! Just kidding, since she has fought the good fight for a long time, and is definitely in line for this move.
The flip side of all these significant events, once you get past the amazement and the tears and the “Huh?’s”, is that me and that retired lady will be empty-nesters in a couple of months. The recent grad thinks that maybe we’re being a bit too giddy about this prospect, even as she “stresses out” about moving on and out. And maybe we are, but it is hard to contain our glee. It feels like a long, slow, deep breath, followed by a smile of gratitude, and accomplishment. Theirs, and ours, really. Just a memory are the years of doing the happy dance after finding a dollar in the dryer, or cashing in the coin jar to get milk and formula. Gone but not forgotten are the long nights of wondering if one child would ever stop throwing up, or another would ever get home, or still another would ever find their path.
At 60, I guess I’ve put in a good 75% of my allotted time. A glance at my own high school classlist shows a few who can’t say that. So, trust me, I’m not complaining.
But maybe I need to borrow a line from Captain James Kirk of the Starship Enterprise if things are going stay at this warp speed.
“Scottie, I need more power!”
(COURTESY THE SUBURBAN JOURNALS OF ST. LOUIS, MO MAY, 2009)
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE CLASS OF 2009
(I will be posting the biweekly columns that I write for the Suburban Journals of St. Louis. They appear courtesy of that publication.)
What a crazy time of the year is springtime.
A quick look at our calendar has us booked for nearly two outings every weekend, not to mention the preschool graduations and baccalaureate and birthdays and end of school celebrations during the weekdays. Not that I’m complaining, since every happening is one of joy and accomplishment.
One of the most significant of all spring events is the graduation ceremony. With each, there is the requisite commencement address. That word, “commencement’, has always intrigued me. It’s very meaning shouts” new beginning.”
Back in 1997, a writer produced a famous graduation speech. It started out with the words “Wear Sunscreen.” I read through it yesterday, and found it impossible to improve upon. But here’s what I would say, if given a chance.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Class of 2009”.
Albert Einstein, that famous mathematician was also quite a philosopher. He once said “Not everything that can be counted, counts; and not everything that counts can be counted.” And this from a guy who made his living from numbers.
Another fairly famous guy by the name of Jesus had something to say about worrying, something we all do even though we know it does absolutely nothing to change what happens. When he talked about the birds in the air getting their supper, he was telling us to chill out. Most of the awful things we think will happen seldom do.
I learned way too late in life from my mom and mother-in-law and wife to never pass up a chance to be nice to somebody. A kind word, a simple compliment, even a pat on the back. And the corollary to this is “Smile so much people will wonder what you’re up to.”
I am also learning to try everyday to do my best, knowing that some days, that may not amount to a whole heck of a lot. But on others, the ones that work, my head can hit the pillow wondering just how I could possibly top this day.
Don’t dress in the dark, or at least lay out your socks the night before. Put a hat on in the winter. And always wear clean underwear. The Joaquin Andujar Maxim, Youneverknow, holds true here.
Old Abe Lincoln was right. Honesty is the best policy. Sometimes, your integrity is the only thing you can call your own.
If you want to excel, practice. A lot. Very few of us are so gifted we can just wing it. There is a reason Tiger Woods plays so often on Sundays.
Strive to love, but also strive to learn to accept love, for it is the essence of life that is too often invisible to the eye.
Never pass up an opportunity to hold a baby.
And remember that the three most welcome words in any speech are “So, in conclusion.”
So, in conclusion…
Trust in a Higher Power, what ever you may conceive that to be. You may stray from this in the coming years, but know that He is always there, peeking out of the blinds, waiting for your headlights to come down the street.
And, oh yeah… the “sunscreen” thing?
That, too.
What a crazy time of the year is springtime.
A quick look at our calendar has us booked for nearly two outings every weekend, not to mention the preschool graduations and baccalaureate and birthdays and end of school celebrations during the weekdays. Not that I’m complaining, since every happening is one of joy and accomplishment.
One of the most significant of all spring events is the graduation ceremony. With each, there is the requisite commencement address. That word, “commencement’, has always intrigued me. It’s very meaning shouts” new beginning.”
Back in 1997, a writer produced a famous graduation speech. It started out with the words “Wear Sunscreen.” I read through it yesterday, and found it impossible to improve upon. But here’s what I would say, if given a chance.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Class of 2009”.
Albert Einstein, that famous mathematician was also quite a philosopher. He once said “Not everything that can be counted, counts; and not everything that counts can be counted.” And this from a guy who made his living from numbers.
Another fairly famous guy by the name of Jesus had something to say about worrying, something we all do even though we know it does absolutely nothing to change what happens. When he talked about the birds in the air getting their supper, he was telling us to chill out. Most of the awful things we think will happen seldom do.
I learned way too late in life from my mom and mother-in-law and wife to never pass up a chance to be nice to somebody. A kind word, a simple compliment, even a pat on the back. And the corollary to this is “Smile so much people will wonder what you’re up to.”
I am also learning to try everyday to do my best, knowing that some days, that may not amount to a whole heck of a lot. But on others, the ones that work, my head can hit the pillow wondering just how I could possibly top this day.
Don’t dress in the dark, or at least lay out your socks the night before. Put a hat on in the winter. And always wear clean underwear. The Joaquin Andujar Maxim, Youneverknow, holds true here.
Old Abe Lincoln was right. Honesty is the best policy. Sometimes, your integrity is the only thing you can call your own.
If you want to excel, practice. A lot. Very few of us are so gifted we can just wing it. There is a reason Tiger Woods plays so often on Sundays.
Strive to love, but also strive to learn to accept love, for it is the essence of life that is too often invisible to the eye.
Never pass up an opportunity to hold a baby.
And remember that the three most welcome words in any speech are “So, in conclusion.”
So, in conclusion…
Trust in a Higher Power, what ever you may conceive that to be. You may stray from this in the coming years, but know that He is always there, peeking out of the blinds, waiting for your headlights to come down the street.
And, oh yeah… the “sunscreen” thing?
That, too.
Monday, April 20, 2009
TRIBAL PRIDE: FROM BOOK SIGNING TO SEMPER FI
Here is the story about the book signing.... with an added bonus at the end.
____________________________________________
Sometimes a guy can get the full yin and yang of life in just one short day.
A few weekends ago, my glorious daughters arranged for a gathering at Moon Beans Café on St. Francois Street in the heart of Old Town Florissant to celebrate the publishing of my novel and hold a book signing. What they almost did was throw dear old dad into panic mode when, trying to surprise me, they had Jill order some books from the publisher. When I casually checked their message center one night before going to bed, I saw a giant order. Of course, I had placed no such order, and wondered who in their right mind would steal my credit card number and then order my books. The Joanster roused mom from deep sleep to explain the whole clandestine affair. A book signing? So this was real? Did I need a haircut? Better get some good pens. What if nobody shows up? How many copies should we get? Needless to say, sleep did not come easily that night. I had no idea what to expect from this, but I ordered up a case of books and hoped for the best. And the best is exactly what we got.
All the grandkids were there to lend good old Paw Paw their moral support. Luckily, the sun was strong and the sky as blue as a robin’s egg, so they pretty much had the run of the grounds. The event started out slowly but for the next three hours solid we had a full house. Family and friends, friends of family, two couples we hadn’t seen in at least 20 years, teachers from my school, even a guy who came for his mother.
“She’s an avid reader of your column, and asked me to get her a book,” he said.
Mrs. Fischer, I hope you’re enjoying the story.
To say I was grateful would be gross understatement. More like profoundly humbled. The setting was charming, the food tasty, the weather perfect—but most of all, the love was palpable.
I looked up once, eying the young with the old, the relative meeting the friend, and literally got a lump in my throat that wouldn’t go down. And believe it or not, we sold out! Took orders for another dozen copies! Success beyond my wildest expectations, for sure.
And now for the yang.
One of our own, a nephew, is a Marine lance corporal, and had just finished intense training for overseas duty. He was home that same day for a short visit. He was soon to ship out to the dangerous hill country of a foreign land. That night, we gathered to honor his commitment, to wish him well. To pray him home.
The sweetness of that afternoon blended into the bittersweet of the night. Pride in success, but even more pride in one about to carry out his duty to country.
And all in just one short day.
(SUBURBAN JOURNALS OF ST. LOUIS, MO APRIL, 2009)
____________________________________________
Sometimes a guy can get the full yin and yang of life in just one short day.
A few weekends ago, my glorious daughters arranged for a gathering at Moon Beans Café on St. Francois Street in the heart of Old Town Florissant to celebrate the publishing of my novel and hold a book signing. What they almost did was throw dear old dad into panic mode when, trying to surprise me, they had Jill order some books from the publisher. When I casually checked their message center one night before going to bed, I saw a giant order. Of course, I had placed no such order, and wondered who in their right mind would steal my credit card number and then order my books. The Joanster roused mom from deep sleep to explain the whole clandestine affair. A book signing? So this was real? Did I need a haircut? Better get some good pens. What if nobody shows up? How many copies should we get? Needless to say, sleep did not come easily that night. I had no idea what to expect from this, but I ordered up a case of books and hoped for the best. And the best is exactly what we got.
All the grandkids were there to lend good old Paw Paw their moral support. Luckily, the sun was strong and the sky as blue as a robin’s egg, so they pretty much had the run of the grounds. The event started out slowly but for the next three hours solid we had a full house. Family and friends, friends of family, two couples we hadn’t seen in at least 20 years, teachers from my school, even a guy who came for his mother.
“She’s an avid reader of your column, and asked me to get her a book,” he said.
Mrs. Fischer, I hope you’re enjoying the story.
To say I was grateful would be gross understatement. More like profoundly humbled. The setting was charming, the food tasty, the weather perfect—but most of all, the love was palpable.
I looked up once, eying the young with the old, the relative meeting the friend, and literally got a lump in my throat that wouldn’t go down. And believe it or not, we sold out! Took orders for another dozen copies! Success beyond my wildest expectations, for sure.
And now for the yang.
One of our own, a nephew, is a Marine lance corporal, and had just finished intense training for overseas duty. He was home that same day for a short visit. He was soon to ship out to the dangerous hill country of a foreign land. That night, we gathered to honor his commitment, to wish him well. To pray him home.
The sweetness of that afternoon blended into the bittersweet of the night. Pride in success, but even more pride in one about to carry out his duty to country.
And all in just one short day.
(SUBURBAN JOURNALS OF ST. LOUIS, MO APRIL, 2009)
Friday, April 03, 2009
DA BOOK, BOSS... DA BOOK! (and DA BOOK SIGNING)
I was afraid to open the package. Didn't know just what it would look like. Would it be big enough? Would it look professionally done? How did the cover art work?
Fear not, said a Guy in a pretty Good Book. So I tore along the dotted line and out popped....
THE BOOK!
Yes, sports fans, YOU'RE NEVER TOO OLD FOR SPACE CAMP is alive and well and looks great even if I do say so myself. And people are buying it, as well. It is available at http://booklocker.com/books/3923.html.
Funny story here.
The other night, I was checking the messages from the publisher, BookLocker.com. They had one there about resubmitting an order for four dozen books. WHAT?! I didn't order no 48 books, at a bill that was more than I paid for my first car!! What was going on? How could this happen? I looked closely at the invoice. My credit card number was correct. The security code was correct. I couldn't figure out who would steal my credit card and THEN try to buy my books? It just didn't make any sense.
I was in a growing state of cognitive dissonance, when The Joanster walked in to the room.
"What's wrong, Dad?" I explained.
She grinned, and left the room.
In comes the lovely and talented wife, groggy from being woken up out of a sound sleep.
"Jill, somebody ordered a %#$$-load of books and used our credit card and what the hell is happening?" said I, as I put the finishing touches on a query back to the publisher, who had noted that they deleted the order and awaited further instructions from me.
Jill smiled, ran her fingers through her hair, and said "I ordered them. It was supposed to be a surprise."
HUH?
"Yeah, you're lovely daughters wanted to do a surprise book signing for you so we ordered the books. They are so excited, and we wanted you to see it in the article in the Journal this week." (She was referring to a story done by Brian Flinchpaugh of the Suburban Journal, where I write my column. You can see it at http://suburbanjournals.stltoday.com/north/.)
So after awhile, I calmed down, resubmitted the order and marveled at how I am not worthy of such love.
The book signing is April 11 at MoonBeans, 450 St. Francois Street, in the heart of Old Town Florissant, from 10 to 1 pm.
Come one, Come all.
Should be fun.
Fear not, said a Guy in a pretty Good Book. So I tore along the dotted line and out popped....
THE BOOK!
Yes, sports fans, YOU'RE NEVER TOO OLD FOR SPACE CAMP is alive and well and looks great even if I do say so myself. And people are buying it, as well. It is available at http://booklocker.com/books/3923.html.
Funny story here.
The other night, I was checking the messages from the publisher, BookLocker.com. They had one there about resubmitting an order for four dozen books. WHAT?! I didn't order no 48 books, at a bill that was more than I paid for my first car!! What was going on? How could this happen? I looked closely at the invoice. My credit card number was correct. The security code was correct. I couldn't figure out who would steal my credit card and THEN try to buy my books? It just didn't make any sense.
I was in a growing state of cognitive dissonance, when The Joanster walked in to the room.
"What's wrong, Dad?" I explained.
She grinned, and left the room.
In comes the lovely and talented wife, groggy from being woken up out of a sound sleep.
"Jill, somebody ordered a %#$$-load of books and used our credit card and what the hell is happening?" said I, as I put the finishing touches on a query back to the publisher, who had noted that they deleted the order and awaited further instructions from me.
Jill smiled, ran her fingers through her hair, and said "I ordered them. It was supposed to be a surprise."
HUH?
"Yeah, you're lovely daughters wanted to do a surprise book signing for you so we ordered the books. They are so excited, and we wanted you to see it in the article in the Journal this week." (She was referring to a story done by Brian Flinchpaugh of the Suburban Journal, where I write my column. You can see it at http://suburbanjournals.stltoday.com/north/.)
So after awhile, I calmed down, resubmitted the order and marveled at how I am not worthy of such love.
The book signing is April 11 at MoonBeans, 450 St. Francois Street, in the heart of Old Town Florissant, from 10 to 1 pm.
Come one, Come all.
Should be fun.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Kicking and SCREAMING into the 21st Century
I am pushing the envelope, stepping out of the box and I hope to stay out, moving out of my comfort zone... in short, I am embracing the technology available in this modern world to promote my writing.
At a workshop this weekend the speaker said that if you are serious about marketing what you write "Shame on you if you are not on Facebook." My youngest daughter The Joanster is appalled that I am contemplating this. But guess what, hon.... daddy is heading in that direction. I already have a webpage on Wetpaint.com called, amazingly enough, "Tom Anselm" (clever, no?) You can get there simply by doing tomanselm@wetpaint.com.
And of course if you are reading this, you know about the blog, the blaaag, the blaahggg.
(What a weird word. I heard only last month that is comes from a contraction of sorts from "weblog". Now it is a standard part of the English language.)
Anyway.....
Stay tuned for the book... should be fun.
Catchya.
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