Maybe It's Just Me, Corny 50s TV

  Maybe it's just me, and it usually is, but I like old 1950s television shows. I find them on YouTube. 

Captain Midnight; from left to right, Ikky Mud
(Sid Milton), Captain Midnight (Richard Webb), 
Dr. Aristotle "Tut" Jones (Olan Soule)

  It takes me back to a time when life appeared simple. Those shows and plots that I watched were not complicated or riddled with preachy messages. If they were, it was about honesty, courage, obeying authority, respect, diligence, and many other positive traits. 

  We saw how to act around adults and figures of authority. Indeed, some of those things were a bit overplayed. The message was, This is proper conduct. 

  The TV of yesteryear is scoffed at as being unrealistic and a portrayal of an idealistic world that did not exist. To be clear, TV programs are fiction.

  The last week or so, I've watched several episodes of Sergeant Preston of the Yukon and Captain Midnight. Unbelievable plots, structured dialogue, stiff acting, cheap sets, rudimentary special effects. Like many have said, radio with pictures.

  Sure, it had its faults. We saw no African Americans. That was not society's fault. It was the writers, producers, and programming
executives. Mexicans were portrayed in extremes, humble and gracious or violent and cruel. There was a lot of stereotyping, not just among ethnic groups and races, but also among whites. The short guy was always the sidekick and comedic relief. The fat guy was always dimwitted. 

  Do I wish now that more time was taken to provide fair and believable representations of all people? Of course, but they didn't. And now is not the time to whine about it or overcompensate.

  Looking back at the influence these programs had on my interaction with people outside my racial and ethic group, they did not have any effect on me. I knew it was a show.

A Cult in Paradise; Episode 20, Goodbye to Pago Pago

This is episode twenty of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in  Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. 

Goodbye to Pago Pago

Everyone shared two-hour shifts each in the pilothouse. Trace, though not knowing what was in the crates, thought it was best to at least have somebody watch the deck.

Adam returned at a quarter past ten. He rapped lightly on Trace’s cabin door. 

“Come in,” Trace said, lying on the bed, reading. 

Adam came in, and Trace sat up on the edge of the bed. “Have a seat.”

Adam sat on the bed. “What’s in the crates?”

“We don’t know,” Trace said. “Cally said we’ll find out as soon as we’re out to sea. We had a contest. Your pick was a nuclear weapon.”

“Hmm,” Adam said, “that’s the first thing that popped into my head.”

“How was your day with Talei?” Trace asked.

“It was a good day,” Adam said. “We both found it easy to speak openly. At this moment, we have feelings for one another. We think it’s premature to call it love, but we don’t know what else to call it. And before you go wandering too far, I’m still in on this thing. I didn’t tell her anything about it, other than it is important. She respected my privacy on the matter, and we moved on.”

“We will be coming back to Pago Pago,” Trace said. “A fella showed up today who has a daughter on the island. It’s Franks’ son’s girlfriend. The girl’s parents will be waiting here.”

“Rich folks?” Adam said.

“No,” Trace said, “the guy is a mailman.”

“A mailman?” Adam questioned.

“I thought at first that was strange,” Trace said. “Demeter targets rich kids, and solicits rich parents for money. However, the girl is attractive in a cute way. We have a picture of her. She might have been used to recruit Franks’ kid. He’s some sort of mathematical computer whiz. I don’t know anything about the girl. She may have talents beyond cute.”

“How has Cally been?” Adam asked.

“He’s been good,” Trace said. “He has everybody guessing about what’s in the crates. He told me that what’s in the crates will give us a huge advantage.”

“Changing the subject back,” Adam said, “someday you’ll return to the ranch, right?”

“That’s my plan,” Trace said.

“What if Talei is there?” Adam said.

“That would be great,” Trace said. “Did you ask her how she felt about me coming back?”

“I did,” Adam said. 

“And?” Trace asked.

“What do you think?” Adam said.

“Well,” Trace said, “if you are happy, I’d sleep in the barn.”

“Yeah,” Adam said, “that’s where she said you should sleep. But just to be sure, nothing is certain. We’ve had only a little more than two days together. There’s a lot before that and a lot after that.”

Adam took a deep breath and blew it out. “There, that’s done.”

Trace smiled and patted Adam on the back and pretended to be fatherly. “There, son, you have my blessing.”

Adam stood, and grasped the door knob. He turned to Trace. “What time are we leaving tomorrow?”

“Immediately after breakfast,” Trace said. 

“Good night,” Adam nodded.

“Sweet dreams,” Trace grinned. 

Adam went to his cabin, and Trace turned off the light above his bunk and went to sleep. 

He woke a little before six and relieved Sage, who stood deck watch from 4:00 to 6:00 AM. Makani served breakfast at 7:00 AM, and at 8:00 AM, Trace started the engine. Sage and Coyote untied the lines, and The Tramp Islander slowly pulled away from the dock and into the bay. Soon, they were beyond the grip of the island at full sail and slithering effortlessly through the waves.

Trace sat at the wheel. He saw Adam on the port side of the foredeck. He leaned against the shroud of the aft mast, looking back at Samoa. He turned toward the pilothouse. He removed his hat and ran his hand over his hair. He gave Trace a half smile and placed the hat snugly on his head. He walked to the port bow and gazed at the shimmering blue open seas.

Trace saw something he never thought he would ever see; his dad was in love.