As I venture forward to create this second novel I am bombarded with a vast array of memories and emotions. THIS is the reason I have struggled so much with creating the story behind the story of "The Other Side of Glory." So much of myself--the way I was once in a former lifetime--and so much of those men who stood beside me like true friends will be enveloped within the pages of that novel. Some of it will be exaggerated, as that is my perogative as a fictional author, and some of it will be true. Although, I will NEVER confess between the two...that will be left for the reader to determine...them and the handful of shit-asses from the NIS (Naval Investigative Service) and the CID (Criminal Investigative Department) of the US Marines. Honestly, I don't give a shit either way how people feel about this story...because I can list--almost verbatim--the names of the men and women who will appreciate this story. I will write it for them...and I will write it for my own conscience's sake....no one else...
But in doing so I feel the power of the universe tugging at my soul and offering the signs of encouragement for me to write this story. Just this weekend I have been found by two more of my brothers, a Mr. Jeff Emmel and Mr. Dan Borero. I have looked for them online for the past 10 years, trying every social networking site I am a member of and those I am not. And like my friend Manny Loya I came across a year ago, a man I had not seen since 1998/99, and ironically he moved into the same apartment complex as my brother Joe. They spent several weeks together having drinks before the topic of "books" came up and in that conversation, Manny realized Joe was my big brother. After 9 years we were reunited in the same town... How about that? It was at Manny's old apartment off Loop 820 in Fort Worth where I wrote the introductory pages of "The Other Side of Glory", just after his wife fell to sleep and I sipped my last glass of 40-Creek canadian whiskey.
When I received the invite via MySpace for Dan Borero, I couldn't help but think of moments within the dingy warehouse listed (and named) 903 in North Carolina and the stunts we pulled while working there. I witnessed everything from a fanatical Master Gunnery Sergeant threating to "pop a cap" in a loony neo-Nazi for trying to kill him with "Freon Coffee" and I can't help but laugh at the times we skated out of work for the sake of the gopher in the clouds. No, we never saw an actual gopher in our shop...but you wouldn't know that by how desperatley we tried to convince our (3 time) DUI stricken Staff Sergeant Smith who knew only two things: Auburn University was the greatest in the country...and he couldn't leave the shop until "Mama" came and got him...since he couldn't drive on his own anymore.
Boys...it will be good...I promise you that...and it will be as full of shit as Marines are in their misguided worlds of heroism and insanity.
Stay posted for more details.
Oh and by the way...if anyone knows of a Joe W. Navarro...probably a traveling welder somewhere between Montana and Gainesville, TX...let me know. We desperatley need to talk.