If there’s a Heaven, it’s about to get louder and better. The world lost a giant, a king, and a special artist in Dick Dale upon his death yesterday.
 
Although I grew up in California, it was actually my husband, Greg, who introduced me to Dick Dale.
 
Sure, I logged some time on SoCal beaches anytime I visited my grandparents in Dana Point as well as watched the hokey Annette Funacello and Frankie Avalon beach movies that sometimes featured Dick Dale and his Del-tones, but I was too young to be impacted by those surf cultures enough to recognize the legend he already had become.
 
Dale is credited with inventing surf music in the 1950s. An avid surfer, his surfmates gave him the title “King of the Surf Guitar” and it stuck. Another claim to fame? Leo Fender gave Dale a Stratocaster and amp to play, asking him to “beat it to death” and tell him what he thought of it. Dale proceeded to blow up 49 amps and speakers because he plays so hard and loud, and some even caught on fire! In the end, it was Dale who helped Fender create rugged apparatus musicians would enjoy (and beat up) for generations.
 
Over the years, I have delved into my husband’s vast collection of music. He enjoys a large variety of genres, but surf music is one of his favorites. I was familiar with the Beach Boys, Jan and Dean, and the Surfaris’ killer song “Wipe Out” (you’d have to be living under a rock not to know that one!), but Greg turned me on to surf music giants The Mermen, The Ventures and Dick Dale. And his vast Beach Boys collection offers a lot more than the “Barbara Ann” played on the radio—you should really check them out more closely.
 
My personal Dick Dale moment? When Greg and I, along with our son, Travis, saw him at The Birchmere in Virginia back in 2003. The venue is terrific—an intimate, supper club-style performance hall. We sat right in front, about a foot from Dale much of the time. He happened to like us and gave Trav his first guitar pick of the evening, winked at me a few times and told Greg during one of his songs, “It’s alright for her to look at me. She sees you all the time!” He was very conversational, offering up numerous opinions ranging in various topics between numbers. He also kept his drummer and bassist on their toes, as they never knew what song he was going to play next and sometimes, they just “made the shit up” right then and there. One highlight of the show was when Dale abandoned his guitar and grabbed a couple of drumsticks and played in tandem with the drummer. He was good at that, too. Then he took the sticks and played the bass while the bassist held the frets with his fingers. Dale and his band were clearly having a good time and I found it refreshing, a far cry from some of the shows I’d seen in my youth. I’ve attended at least a hundred concerts, and I can tell you Dick Dale plays the guitar louder than anyone—and that includes some of the biggest rock bands in the world. I admit, my ears hurt that night and into the next day, but I would be hard pressed to say it wasn’t worth it anyway!
 
I knew that evening we were witnessing greatness, a phenom really. Dale is an incredible powerhouse of talent and energy, but also witty and personable, likable on every front.
 
Dale, 81, reportedly kept touring to help pay for his medical bills, which is a pretty sad state of affairs. I noticed he was set to play on May 25 in San Juan Capistrano, the California town where my mother went to high school (and later got married), which just illustrates how true he was to his roots.
 
I’ll be celebrating him by playing his wonderful music today—and for the rest of my life. And if there is a Heaven, I imagine he is shredding it there as he did here, only maybe not in pain or feeling his age. Rock on, DD!
 
Visit www.dickdale.com to learn more about him—it’s worth the read.

Very grateful and excited readers are leaving reviews for my latest novel, Fifty, Four Ways—and they are all five-star reviews so far! Keep 'em coming! And please feel keep sending photos of you reading the book or getting your copy. Those are the best!

TODAY'S THE DAY! Fifty, Four Ways isn't just "Go for launch," it's LAUNCHED, baby!

Where can you get it right now?
1. Amazon.com has it in paperback or ebook.
2. Ask your local bookstore to order it for you. 
3. If you gotta have an autographed copy, connect with me and we'll coordinate the effort. 

What's best for me is your Amazon order ASAP. Amazon, like everything else online these days, runs on algorithms, and those are determined by sales and reviews. If my novel sells well (and the reviews start pouring in), my book will automatically populate in front of a bigger buying audience. So, if you are inclined to read my book, or buy it as a gift for someone you know, thank you from the bottom, top and sides of my heart. I truly appreciate it!

Watch the video and read an early review right here.
​
—Katherine

My friend Sarah recently shared that for the past few years, she has selected a word as a theme for her coming year and used it to serve as inspiration for the entire year. It’s worked out well for her, and I love the idea. She told me it’s a part of the “My One Word” movement. A quick search on the Internet led me to http://myoneword.org,* which provided an explanation, sample words, testimonials and a book and class on the subject.
 
For some, the end of one year and beginning of another is a time for reflection. This can lead to thoughts about what we’d like to do differently in the coming year and/or the setting of resolutions (which for many, are just doomed to failure).
 
I rather liked the simplicity of a one-word theme, and it spurred me to think about what my one word could be. I am cognizant of some regrets and unhappiness at the moment, centered on mostly three things:
 
1. Not going somewhere or doing something because I don’t have the time, money or (fill in the blank) to spare, and
 
2. The sad state of affairs amongst family members on both sides of the aisle, and
 
3. My penchant to feel unloved, unwanted, un-included or unappreciated by family and friends (feelings which I’ve been lugging around for quite a few years now).
 
If I had to choose a word to address #1, I think it would be “Go.” Go to movies, go to Portland, go hiking, go to your reunion, go to Virginia and move into that house waiting for you already! I always have reasons why I can’t do these things, or nodding to responsibilities before play, but in the end, I have missed out on some important moments and opportunities that will never come around again and I deeply regret them.
 
Finding a word for #2 and #3 seems harder: Accept? Release? Love? In the end, as much as those two need work, they just doesn’t call to me like “go” does, and because I can’t necessarily resolve the conflicts, in the case of #2, it’s more passive vs. “go,” which puts all the onus on me.
 
I share this with you as you might find a one-word theme might be a nifty concept for your coming year. You might even follow Sarah's lead and get your chosen word created into a piece of art so you can look at it as a reminder of your theme throughout the year. The simplicity of one word instead of a list of mind-numbing resolutions seems doable, rememberable and even fun.
 
Some word themes from the website included Joy, More, Progress, Hopeful, Consistent, Strong, Blameless, Balance, Intentional, Grace, Disciplined, Silent, etc., but I encourage you to try and think of your own before perusing the website. That way it will be more "yours" based on what's truly on your mind to change. And you can see how even if you’re still trying to shed those same twenty pounds that you were last year (or the last five years), using a word such as Disciplined or Consistent might cover that as well as other topics, and seems significantly nicer than berating yourself to stop eating ice cream. Just something to think about.
 
Gotta go! (heh heh)
 
Katherine

*There seems to be issues with the website. Not sure if it's becoming defunct or having hosting issues. 

Tomorrow marks one of the most storied events in sports: the Army-Navy football game, held for the first time 128years ago (when, for the record, Navy beat Army 24-0).
 
It’s possible with my limited, but not sheltered, sports awareness, I may have come across the Army-Navy rivalry before meeting my husband, but if it weren’t for him, I’d have little knowledge. It’s arguably the most enduring—and traditional—rivalry in college football.
 
My mate recalls with great clarity what life was like growing up the son of an Air Force colonel, a career military man who graduated from the United States Military Academy at West Point in 1954. His father, who was typically a kind, soft-spoken gentleman, would turn into somewhat of a lunatic each year when the Army-Navy football contest ensued. This nonviolent man reportedly broke the TV with a sponge after he threw it at the contraption with disgust during one years’ match-up. Apparently over one bad play.
 
Greg was dismayed by his change in character this one time every year and even more confused when his father seemingly cheered on Navy’s football team during every other game. When he inquired, his father answered the better Navy was, the sweeter the victory by Army “when” they beat them that year (because he never said “if”).
 
Back in the day, his parents also threw parties the day of the Army-Navy game, even renting additional TV sets so guests could easily watch it (which was also against character). It was that big a deal, and both Army and Navy fans were welcome.  
 
When Greg and I visited the USMA at West Point in 2015, I got to see firsthand the profound spirit and hallowed grounds of this institution and its cadets. It was one of the most poignant experiences of my life. As we toured West Point the day before the game, it was hard to go anywhere where we didn’t see “Go Army, Beat Navy!” signs. It was prolific, and these were permanent fixtures as the game was still a couple of months away. After a trip to the gift shop, we found ourselves the proud owners of a Go Army, Beat Navy banner that has hung in our family room since we brought it home.
 
We took in a home game the following day, another unforgettable event that began with the time-honored tradition of the cadet parade. A demonstration by the rifle team and introduction of the marching band was followed by thousands of cadets marching onto the field in full dress uniform. The game itself has plenty of rituals and is a veritable spectacle in the best way. You won’t see anything else like it, unless you’re at another military academy. Cannons fire regularly throughout the game. When the Black Knights of Army score, every cadet—including those playing football—go into a frenzy, singing their fight song and moving so energetically, they appear to be a swarm.
 
This year, my husband will watch the game with a diehard Navy fan, a friend who lived a long while in Annapolis and befriended many Midshipmen from the nearby United States Naval Academy along the way. The friendly ribbing has already begun because believe me, the rivalry goes both ways. Navy is just as passionate about beating Army. In fact, each branch is passionate about beating another, but nothing quite tops the Army-Navy rivalry, and that’s good stuff.
 
The past two years, Army has prevailed, but Navy held onto a fourteen-year winning streak prior to that. The official record is Navy 60, Army 51 and seven ties, but Army is poised for another win if all goes well—and might even score another Commander-in-Chief’s Trophy. Each year, the trophy is awarded to the winner of the academy college football series consisting of the Army Black Knights, Navy Midshipmen and Air Force Falcons. If Army beats Navy tomorrow, the trophy is theirs again this year.
 
Whether or not you’re a fan of Army or Navy, you owe it to yourself to watch this rival game once in your life, or better yet—attend it live and experience the exuberance as it ensues. You’ll never forget it.
 
Until then, in the words of my father-in-law, husband and countless others who have served our military, GO ARMY, BEAT NAVY!

This ebook, A Gift of Gratitude, A Community Book Project, is FREE this week—hey, that's the definition of gift! ! I am pleased to be one of a hundred writers who provided a submission about gratitude to this compilation. Each segment is short (200 words) and also contains a quote about gratitude. It's the perfect little book to read when you need a dose of gratitude in your life—or maybe read a few of the submissions over your Thanksgiving holiday. Whatever the case, go get yourself a copy and enjoy! ​

​When I was a senior in high school, I became friends with Sally. I genuinely dug Sally, finding a kindred spirit in her quirky, sarcastic wit, but in truth, I may have befriended her because I liked her older brother, Mike. Although Mike and I were friendly acquaintances, he didn’t pay me much mind and struck me as the shy type. I was the opposite: outgoing, friendly, gregarious and a blatant flirt. Being at Sally’s house afforded me plenty of opportunities to interact with Mike and attempt to get him to notice me. 
 
But this story isn’t about Mike (which could be a novel), or Sally (which could be a short story), it’s about their mother, Nancy, with whom they lived after their parents divorced. 
 
Nancy was not your typical mom. First, she epitomized cool. She listened to rock and roll—cranked up high on the weekends. She snow skied and windsurfed, teaching herself the latter when it arrived on the scene. Nancy was on the small side, so watching her wrangle that large rig to the top of her car was no small feat. Speaking of her car, she drove a sporty MG (that is, until Mike crashed it while driving drunk one evening. Worse, he crashed on the street behind my house after unsuccessfully trying to lure me back out after curfew…by this time, Mike had not only noticed me, but we’d begun an on again, off again dance that would last years). Nancy owned a beautiful home in the Oakland hills filled with chic but unassuming décor and lots of windows facing the San Francisco Bay. Perhaps most attractive, she struck me as independent and confident, traits I always admired in adult women because they seemed rare. 
 
Nancy wasn’t sitting around waiting for life to happen. She didn’t seem remorseful about divorce or her lot in life. She appeared to be living it exactly as she wanted. She worked, played and sang along with Mick and the Rolling Stones. She probably had moves better than Jagger.
 
Nancy also never struck me as a meddlesome parent, or a hoverer. Both her kids were given fairly free reign. She was guilty of trusting them too much, but many of our parent’s did—to our advantage and times, our detriment. Because kids are idiots who make poor decisions. It’s called learning from our own experience.
 
Fast forward to now, and I’ve been thinking about Nancy quite a bit. I’ve reached a stage in my life where I feel a little like her. I think much of that is because I recently bought a kayak and have been dragging it down to the lake to paddle around. Back when Nancy started windsurfing, I’d go with the whole family out to Lake Del Valle in Livermore and sit on the beach while they took turns. I watched Sally and Mike both learn, with trial and error, but for some reason, I didn’t want to try it myself. Maybe I was afraid of failure (because it wasn’t the easiest skill to pick up), or looking stupid in front of a boy I liked (been there, done that), or simply preferred sitting on the beach in my bikini getting a tan. In those days, we slathered on orange-tinted Ban de Soleil oil and “worked” on our tans vs. avoiding them like the plague. 
 
Today, I feel the same independence and confidence Nancy exuded. It’s a comfort with myself that I attribute to longevity and experience, which finally yielded some wisdom. I embrace being at a stage in my life where I know who I am and what I want. And being at mid-life, it’s nice to know I can still lift heavy weights, drag a kayak around with ease so I can revel in nature’s bounty, crank up the Rolling Stones and rock out, and maybe be a role model for girls navigating their high school years. That cool car? Eh. Maybe it’s right around the corner!
 
I love a full-circle moment, and this qualifies. Wherever you are, Nancy, I hope it’s full of freedom, mobility, splendid moments and loud music.

Jim Morris is such a delight. I was blessed to not only get to know him for his inclusion in Panhandle Portraits, but to spend time with him in recent months on the radio and when he joined me for a special evening at the Jefferson County Museum. Jim is a down-to-earth guy and remains humble about his talents. In addition to teaching his craft, you can also give a listen to Jim's old-time music on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCTJEdKfLCdSp9X0IOVYJCLQ, titled "Morbanjo." More banjo indeed—and more good folks like Jim, please.

Want to read about all the other folks in Panhandle Portraits? I profiled 77 wonderful West Virginians. Details about the two-volume set at http://www.katherinecobb.com/panhandle-portraits.html.