INVITATION NOT PROMOTION

ALL THINGS THAT MATTER PRESS is up and running! Our first two books, COLLECTED MESSAGES: GUIDES FOR PERSONAL TRANSFORMATION Books I and II are now on Mobipocket as ebooks. Book I is in print and on Amazon.com. 3 more books are in the pipeline and we are about to sign on several new authors with submissions rolling in.

HERE'S THE INVITATION

You all know that in addition to the efforts of the publisher, the author's work just begins when the book becomes available. We will be adding an AUTHOR'S RESOURCE page on our web site, http://allthingstha tmatterpress. com . Many of you, and you know who you are, have services/books that can help an author promote and market their new books. I invite you to us send a description of your services/books and contact information for our site. We will not endorse any of these but we will make them available to our authors.

If you are sending in book titles please include the price-I know that is impossible for services since each situation is unique. We do reserve the right to not include your request for inclusion. I have talked to many of you, but not all of you.

If any of you have written in the spiritual/self- help genre, I would be particularly interested in your book submission. We are, of course interested in other genres.

I hope to hear from you.

Phil

This forum looks kinda dusty. Is everyone hanging out somewhere else?

“How far are we going?” asked Ted as they left his apartment complex.

“That’s up to you,” smiled Ligeia coyly, pausing for effect, and then continuing after a slight frown. “I intended to drive out to the Pilot’s Wheel. I remembered you said you fished there when you were a boy.”

“Yes, it used to be a good spot, but since the marina has been developed, the refueling station spoiled that one,” replied Ted, shaking his head sadly. “There is one other place, though. It’s on the other side of Milltown down by the old steamboat yards.”

“Steamboat yards?” asked Ligeia in surprise. “There were steamboats built here, too?”

“I keep forgetting that you’re not from this area,” laughed Ted. “Of course, many people born in Milltown don’t know about them, either. The Mississippi is viewed mostly as a nuisance, a transportation medium, or a sewer. Most people don’t mind looking at it from a distance, but they’d rather not get close. The interesting, historical areas are generally ignored nowadays.”

“I’d like to see the old steamboat yards and, if you’re right, the fishing will be good,” remarked Ligeia.

“Okay!” replied Ted excitedly. “Take the river road south. I’ll tell you where to turn off.”

As Ted and Ligeia drove south, the character of the land changed from cityscape to marshland.

“This land isn’t used for much because it’s a floodplain,” explained Ted. “You’ll see some farming done where it’s drier, but this area is mostly ruled by the river. Okay, turn right at this side road and drive all the way toward the river’s edge. Then, pull off to the side of the road and park. Not many people come here anymore. We should have the good fishing spots to ourselves.”

“I’m getting excited, Ted,” declared Ligeia. “No one has ever shown me a place like this before. It’s so different from the city.”

After Ligeia found a good place to park, Ted got out of the car and looked around.

“Yep, this is the place and it’s a good day, too. There are fewer mosquitoes around here,” exclaimed Ted. “There’s only one thing wrong. I don’t have any fishing gear. I’ll have to watch you catch’em.”

“Nonsense!” replied Ligeia with a smile. “I always carry two poles and plenty of bait.”

“I should have known,” laughed Ted. “You must have been a Girl Scout.”

“As a matter of fact, you’re correct,” confirmed Ligeia with a wink. “Please, help me get this stuff out of the trunk.”

Ted picked out the best spot. Soon everything was unloaded and set up. Ligeia had thought of everything; chairs, poles, bait and even lunch.

“The importance of this location is how the river current comes along the shoreline,” said Ted, pointing to the rapidly flowing water. “This area was used for steamboat construction because it’s full of shallow ponds just inside the bank, but drops off steeply right off shore. They could actually drive a boat right into dry dock. The walleye will come fairly close to the shore swimming in the swift current.”

“This is exciting!” exclaimed Ligeia. “What should we use for bait?”

“Ah, just about anything will do,” replied Ted. “Walleye aren’t like catfish. Catfish like smelly bait. I’ve even used soap to catch catfish. Bottom feeders are like that. Walleye are like trout, they like movement. We’ll cast our lines in and then slowly reel them in. If you hook one, be careful it doesn’t spit the hook at you just when you’re ready to pull it ashore. Any questions?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” remarked Ligeia, looking around. Where’re all the steamboats?”

For a moment, Ted looked at Ligeia dumbfounded. Then her words connected with Ted’s brain cells and he replied with a laugh, “I’m sorry, I was so focused on fishing that I didn’t explain what’s here. If you look between the trees, you’ll notice ones that are too straight and not as tall. That’s what’s left of the steamboats that were abandoned here to rot.

“They were mostly burned, but some parts can still be found. We’re just one hundred years too late to see this place crowded with riverboats. The river has reclaimed this area for its own. It must have been quite a sight back then. Now, all we can do is just lean back and enjoy the fishing.”

Ligeia looked around with an expression of disappointment, then smiled and said, “It’s still beautiful here whether there are steamboats or not. Let’s get our hooks in the water and see who gets the first catch.”

Both Ligeia and Ted cast out from the shore, anticipating that the fish were waiting just for them. Their hooks hit the water several times without even a nibble. Ligeia looked over to Ted and wondered at the far off expression on his face.

“What are you thinking, Ted?

“I know this river,” murmured Ted. “I was like a river rat when I was a boy. I used to canoe in the sloughs, wade the small streams and explore the sandbars. I built rafts and poled along just like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. If you slow down enough, the river absorbs you into it. The waves are like a cradle that gently rocks as the current carries you along. But when the river takes hold of you and carries you helplessly along its path, it stops being a picturesque scene of glistening waves and floating ducks. The river becomes an unstoppable force. It has no malicious intent, it just exists, with no awareness of or concern for you.

“The muddy waters hide its many secrets, too. The river claims everything, from the crawdad to those living fossils, the spoonbill catfish, the sturgeon and the gar. Once something becomes part of it, few things are released until they are washed up along its shoreline. It’s a different world when you get that close to an ageless river like the Mississippi.”

Ligeia sat quietly for a moment looking out across the waves.

“We’re only visitors here, aren’t we?” asked Ligeia in a solemn tone.

“You can come back here at any time,” remarked Ted, missing Ligeia’s intent. “This lowland is controlled by the Corps of Engineers. It’s open to the public.”

“No, I meant us as Homo sapiens,” replied Ligeia, trying to explain herself. “Someday we will be the fossils, and the river will still be here looking much the same as it does now. Ted, what happened to the Native Americans who lived here?”

“Ah, we murdered them and stole their land,” replied Ted in a flat and frank tone. “The ones who survived were relocated on reservations with land of less commercial value. It was the same story here as everywhere else in the United States. I used to hunt for arrowheads, and I found some that dated back to just after the last ice age when the glaciers receded. For ten thousand years those people lived here in harmony with the river. That was until about two hundred years ago when settlers came from the East.

“The Native Americans occupied the best lands and, unlike the Manhattans, they weren’t interested in giving away prime farmland and river frontage for glass beads. As often is the case, the military was used as a tool for commercial enterprise. After the slaughter, the Indians were herded away to reservations and never seen again. If you know where to look, their old trade routes can still be found following the Mississippi and the tributary rivers. The Talus River was a very important byway. Now it’s just used for recreational boating or to dump waste products.”

“If we knew what was done to those poor people, why has there never been any effort to correct the terrible wrongs done to them?” asked Ligeia sadly.

“Native Americans are looked upon much like the spoonbill catfish, the sturgeon and the gar,” replied Ted as he gritted his teeth. “They’re viewed as living fossils with a culture out of touch with the needs of today. For those who have bothered to learn the true history of what was done to Native Americans, there is only shame. For the part of the population who prefer ignorance, there is just annoyance at the hard-to-spell Indian tribal names for cities and states, sports mascots and cartoon characters. Since the Native Americans were rapidly displaced, few people ever think about them unless they’re at one of the tribal gambling casinos losing money.

“People don’t change very quickly, Ligeia,” added Ted, looking at her. “Take you and me for example. We were both sold out, pushed out of the way and had our livelihood ripped away because we, in some way, threatened someone else’s pursuit of greed. The only value we had as individuals was as a tool to get someone else what they wanted. The only difference between Native Americans and us is that we don’t even have a reservation to be dumped in. We can become homeless street people for what our companies or anyone else cares. The time of ‘One Nation under God, Indivisible, With Liberty and Justice for all’ is gone. Corporate greed rules us now.”

After a very long pause, Ligeia said, “You have a very grim outlook on life, Ted. I can understand why you feel that way. What drives you to keep going and not give up?”

With a big smile, Ted replied, “I have my own support team of close friends who, for reasons I can’t fathom sometimes, care about me and have faith that I'll persevere. They remind me on occasion that faith is like this river. It can be an unstoppable force that overcomes the greatest obstacles in life. Faith is like a trickling stream at the river’s headwaters. Faith starts from within us follows the path best suited for its purpose.”