Rachel Vincent books and a Tribute to my Dad
I don't really understand the whole widget thing. I'm learning as I go on this computer and while posting. So I clicked on the Prey widget from Rachel Vincent's website. It posted it as a post to my journal, so I guess I am advertising Prey to my millions of readers (hahaha). That's okay though, I do like Rachel Vincent's books. This all leads to me thinking about my dad, who when I first bought Rachel's debut novel (Stray), was 68 years old. A little background on my dad:
What follows turned into a tribute to my father-->
When I was ten years old (1970) my father was in a horrific accident in San Jose. Motorcycle vs delivery van. My father's helmet was caught on a piece of the van, and my father was dragged quite a ways down the street. It was raining. The driver of the van said he didn't realize at first that he had hit someone. I find that hard to believe, my father was riding a 750 Honda. {for years after, I couldn't stand the thought of riding a motorcycle} He sustained many broken and crushed bones. Both arms were broken - in fact his left arm was shoved up inside his arm, so his fingers were where his elbow should have been, if you can picture that. One of his legs were broken. He had severe brain damage. My uncle, when he brought my sister and me to see my father warned us that my father probably wouldn't recognize us, and that he didn't talk; but that my father needed to see us anyway {one of the few nicest things my uncle ever did for my father - he was a twisted asshole}. I remember drawing him a picture. I'm not the artist in the family, but I drew a rather wild psychedelic pattern of paisley shapes in various sizes and bright colors - lots of yellows, oranges, and pinks, with some dark blues and greens for contrast (years later I was told that the yellows and oranges were healing colors, and pink was a calming color, but at the time I just thought he needed some bright colors). I drew him many of those pictures while he was in the hospital. When we visited my dad the first few times he would stare at us with a wide eyed stare, hardly even blinking. We couldn't even hug him, because his arms and one leg were suspended in traction, and casted up. All we could do was pat him and tell him we loved him. I remember worrying that even me touching him might hurt. He later told me that he did recognize us, but he couldn't form any words in his mind, much less say anything out loud. The nurses hung my crazy pictures from his trapeze, and on the walls where he could see them, something I now realize was very caring on their part. It gave him something to focus on when the pain was huge. It felt like it was the only thing I could do for him at the time (I was ten).
My father had to relearn how to eat, talk, read and walk. For the longest time he didn't realize what an accomplishment he managed. Many would have just remained in a wheelchair, or certainly not pushed so hard to read again. In fact I think he is just now realizing what he has accomplished. My father has always had a rather dark outlook on things, while at the same time being a little naive about relationships, an odd mix, but there it is. So since he began his physical and mental recovery he has been a perpetual learner. He is always educating himself. His idea of reading for fun, is psychology, nursing, medical journals, mechanical, science and health textbooks and magazines. He loves the internet. I have never ever seen him read any fiction, no matter how many times I tried to get him to read something light for his mental state.
A couple years ago he stayed with me and my family for one a half months, so he could have open heart surgery. We didn't want him to be by himself right after surgery, so we kept him. He was stuck at my house with a lot of free time on his hands and very little educational material to read {I'm all about the fiction, preferably urban fantasy and science fiction}. He saw my copy of Stray laying around. He has always been attracted to female bodies of all shapes and sizes, so I think originally he was attracted to the cover, {the model does have a nice ass}. I jokingly asked him if he wanted to read it, he skimmed the first chapter, then settled down to read it. He read it in small increments, he didn't finish it while he was with us, because being a sensitive soul, who has never read fiction, since I've been alive, ( that I know of) , much less horror or suspense, he could only read it sessions. But this book did open the door to him reading other fiction while he was with us. He read Terry Pratchett's Reaper Man, Terry Pratchett's Small Gods, and Tom Holt's Little People; and he enjoyed them quite a bit.
When I bought Rogue, I saved it for him after I finished it. He loved it. Loved the way Rachel Vincent describes pack and alpha life. He loved the S-E-Xing up in the books. I have just recently finished Pride, the third book in Rachel Vincent's series (it's been out for a while, but I've been suffering from BADD - my made up term for book attention deficit disorder, so it took me a while to read it. Please understand that I am not making light of ADD, just making fun of myself.) I'm waiting to give it to him, next time I see him. When I inevitably buy and finish reading the fourth book (remember the widget? Prey, I will save it for my father. Now this is the only series by an author that I really enjoy, that I don't keep on my shelf, because my dad has all the books now.
When my father was recovering and feeling better after his openheart surgery, he met the love of his life through EHarmony. At first he thought she was way out his league (never gives himself enough credit) but they began emailing each other, made friends first, then started seeing each other. She lives in another city, and he lives a little north of me but they travel back and forth and spend most of their time together. They have a lot of the same outlook (except she's a little more positive and upbeat) and her optimistic way of looking at life has been the best thing for my father. He has gone from a man that I thought might waste away within a few years, to a man that drives from city to city, and keeps very busy. She loves paranormal romance and fiction and he has become interested in her books. She reads to him out of her Christine Feehan books.
I am amazed at the new lease in life that my father has. And it cracks me up that his first fiction book was Rachel Vincent's Stray. He is now 70 years old, going on 71 and is a fan of Rachel Vincent, and has a girlfriend. He's lived a long hard, difficult life, from childhood to now and really deserves some true happiness. This is his first relationship that isn't full of anger and headgames. My father has not always been an easy man to deal with, he's had too much emotional damage from childhood, and been through a lot of physical and mental pain with his accident (his second marriage broke up while he was recovering), but he is finally with a woman that really appreciates him and gets him to laugh. She doesn't try to shut him up when he starts to dwell on his past, but she doesn't allow him to sink into his past either. She makes him focus on today and the future; I love her for that. She is a wonderful woman.
I began this post about Rachel Vincent's books and ended posting a basic tribute to my father. I never know where I'm going to end up when I start to post.