Championship Tide Made Him A Fan

Championship Tide Made Him A Fan: Fifty years ago, I became an Alabama football fan.

A book review from Geri Ahearn

Donald Drummond, and his wife Anne were both retired from professional careers, and agreed to go on a mission to unravel a mystery in Donald's extremely dysfunctional family. As they begin this incredible mysterious journey through the hidden family secrets, they begin to realize the dark journey might be "Mission Impossible!" Why did it take sixty years for Donald to meet his biological mother? Who murdered Donald's biological father? Did Donald's mother poison her husband? As the journey on the road to horror continues, the reader sits on the edge of her seat as chills tingle her spine, and the suspense has only just begun. As you continue to follow this disturbing journey into deception, conflict, and murder, you realize that maybe
some questions were better off left unanswered. John Wayne Cargile uses his expertise in psychology, and knowledge in religion to create an intriguing plot, with entertaining characters. This novel is packed with action and drama through surprising twists-and-turns to the end of the story. For the icing on the cake, the author covers the pages with reality, insanity, and a blend of romance. For added touches, he throws in madness, greed, and some flawed personalities that we usually see behind closed doors of a mental institution. I recommend this book to all mystery lovers who enjoy suspense, combined with action, and romance. The type of characters that the author created are as colorful as those you see in any of Alfred Hitchcock's finest movies. Did Donald and Anne find out too much? Was Donald's father in the Mafia? How many people were involved in the terrorist plot, and who knew about the conspiracy? As the reader follows the journey of deceit, the soap opera explodes as the saga continues in an ugly world of fear and regret, left
open for a perfect sequel. "THE CRY OF THE CUCKOOS" is a mesmerizing Masterpiece of the unexpected, and is as thrilling as THE DEVIL'S OWN with Harrison Ford, and Brad Pitt. Reviewed by Geri Ahearn, Phoenix, Arizona

A Northport Gazette article about author signing

Local author John Wayne Cargile will be signing copies of his novel, “The Cry of the Cuckoos,” at the University of Alabama Supply Store Wednesday, July 22 from 11 a.m. - 1 p.m.
The supply store is located on campus at the Ferguson Student Union Center.
Cargile’s mystery, suspense, romance novel is receiving high praise from readers.
“A splendid combination of what most readers, like myself, desire in a good novel--mystery, mayhem, madness, and one of the most dysfunctional families you've ever seen. It would provide a team of therapists with full-time work,” writes John Lee of Mentone, AL.
“I enjoyed Mr. Cargile's story "Cry of the Cuckoos." There were many threads through out the story that many people can recognize; the interrelationship of family, love, the aging process, friendship and death. Mr. Cargile has a gift with conversation that is very realistic and supports and builds to the story line. While much of the story was very realistic, there was a bit of soap opera quality about Donald meeting his natural mother, only to have her die a few days later. I have recently moved to the Tuscaloosa area and found some good parallels to the history and culture of the area in this book. I read Mr. Cargile's column in the Northport Gazette and look forward to more books from this author,” said Jill Hannah of Northport.
“John Wayne Cargile takes us on a journey that starts with much intrigue and ends with bold characterization of family life sometimes better left unsaid. Even when all is well, it isn't.
“What an emotional jaunt Mr. Cargile leads us on, spilling forth with page turner characters and strong plotting that keeps one on the edge of his seat to finish this book. I enjoyed it no end.
“Mr. Cargile has my undying admiration for writing a book that has no holes barred. Equal in emotion and plotting to a William Faulkner book, this one is a real keeper and one you won't forget for some time! Thanks for the enjoyable read.....” writes Rita Hestand of Wylie, Texas.
“Cargile carefully puts in place background details which provide interesting technical and medical information. His training in religion, psychology, and philosophy, as well as his strong interest in integral psychology and spirituality, are apparent throughout John's writing. "The Cry of the Cuckoos" becomes a platform for him to help people integrate their mind, body and Spirit into a Holistic lifestyle. Cargile's character development reflects his understanding of flawed personalities. His narrative provides a related analysis of their symptoms, motivations, and resulting actions. The strength of character of the genuine religious or spiritual person is contrasted with the lip service and lifestyle of deception in those motivated by selfishness and greed. These characters become colorful composites, expressions of idealism, reality, and deception.
“I was quickly drawn into the story of "The Cry of the Cuckoos" and the theme of deceit and forgiveness. Cargile's writing style is crisp, direct, and engaging. While I found this directness appealing, it may be seen as too simplistic for others. Transitions of locale or time-frame and the pacing of conflict and resolution confronted by the protagonists were well-paced, maintaining the suspense element of the story.
“I felt the story ended quite quickly, somewhat abruptly; however, an "afterward" wrapped up all the loose ends and gave closure to unanswered questions. The final chapters create the possibility of a sequel. "The Cry of the Cuckoos" by John Wayne Cargile will appeal to readers who enjoy mystery, intrigue, and romance. Cargile's writing is thoroughly entertaining and highly informative,” writes Richard Blake of Reader Views.
Cargile’s book is available at his personal website: www.thecryofthecuckoos.com or Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble Online and Books A Million Online.
The book is also available at the University of Alabama Supply Store as well as Little Professor Book Center in Homewood, AL.
Cargile was a recent guest on WYDE Radio 101.1 FM on the Lee Davis Show. Davis compared Cargile’s book as being “between a Tom Clancy and John Grisham novel.”
Cargile lives in the Mount Olive community near Coker in Tuscaloosa County with his wife, son and granddaughter.
He is currently writing his second novel, “Crooked Letter I.”

Crooked Letter I -- Chapter Two

Birmingham, Alabama

The newsroom on the fourth floor at the Birmingham Iron-Herald was abuzz as reporters and editors finished assignments for the day. The morning newspaper was the state’s largest in circulation covering every major city in Alabama through stringers, The Associated Press and a five-person staff in Montgomery, the state’s capitol. The Birmingham office was staffed with over 100 writers and editors.
Readers looked to the Iron-Herald for its investigative reporting, especially when it came to being a watchdog over the state’s legislative process. Some of the top young writers from the journalism school at the University of Missouri came to Birmingham to ply their writing skills before moving on to larger newspapers like The New York Times, Washington Post or Los Angeles Times.
Rob McRobbie, 32, was one of the first journalists to apply at the newspaper before other university alumnus’s found their way to Magic City. He was considered the “old man” among the younger staff members. A reporter who aspired to report about civil rights found plenty of sod for honing their social skills. A sports writer had plenty of wiggle room as high school and college football ranked somewhere between Jesus and the late legendary coach, Paul “Bear” Bryant, who some claimed could walk on water. An investigative reporter literally had enough territory to cover as those able bodied men and women did on the Oregon Trail. The state was wide-open for illegal gambling, prostitution, hate crimes and even terrorist organizations. The city ranked No.3 in the nation for homicides. Mostly it was black on black but, on occasion, reporters got more than enough fodder for their notebooks when a white man murdered a man of color. It was unusual, but it did happen. A black man taking the life of a white man was considered more serious.
McRobbie was familiar with Birmingham because he grew up on the western side of city in a poor-class neighborhood. He was a three-sport letterman in football, baseball and basketball. His high school English teacher told him his senior year he showed promise as a writer. She threw out the names of T.S. Elliott, William Wordsworth and Edgar Allen Poe. He knew following high school the University of Missouri’s journalism school was one of the best in the country. He applied and was accepted. After four years he returned to the city as a cub police reporter. Now he was the newspaper’s leading investigative reporter, known for his penchant to find the truth no matter how long it took. Research and details, as well as his knack for explaining complicated issues, were his strengths.
Only the year before, McRobbie was a finalist for a Pulitzer Prize in journalism, only to see a former colleague, Rick Stutts, win it as a New York Times reporter. He was proud for his friend’s accomplishments. Who better to lose the most cherished prize in writing except to a good friend and confidant?
Feet propped on his desk, Rob leaned back in the swivel chair in his office and stretched his arms behind his head. Having an office alone without too much interference from other reporters was one of the perks for being an elite journalist. His colleagues worked in tiny cubicles. He wondered now how he ever dealt with such a closed-in space. He needed space. His editors gave him more leeway to write controversial stories about citizens who got themselves in trouble with the law or courts. His articles had put more than a few criminals in prison, the latest being the killer of his uncle – Judge Roy Mallard, a liberal federal appellate judge appointed by then president, Jimmy Carter. A white supremacist that belonged to the Society of Southron Patriots had been indicted for the murder when a mail bomb was sent to his luxurious home in a rich suburb of Mountain Springs. The homemade bomb detonated when Uncle Roy opened the package. He was dead on the scene. W.L. Medders was sentenced to Kilby Prison where he was on death row awaiting turn to see his maker by electrocution. Medders testified before the Grand Jury, Judge Mallard was a “nigger and Jew lover.”
McRobbie followed the case from beginning to end even though his editor, Angus McCarron, was unsure about assigning a relative of the judge to cover the story. It worked out in the end. McRobbie always felt Medders did not act alone. Someone higher up in authority gave Medders the order. McRobbie had been unable to prove it, but he vowed he would unravel the case before he died.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as his publisher walked briskly toward his office. He positioned himself upright in his chair, looked at the computer monitor, which had a game of poker on the screen. He was a whiz playing Texas Hold ‘Em or Blackjack. He often spent his off days in Biloxi, Mississippi at the casinos. Counting cards was his forte and casino managers tried to catch him several times. He moved around from casino to casino. He made more money at the tables than he was paid as a newspaperman.
He hurriedly closed the computer window before his boss caught him again.
McCarron wasn’t alone. In tow was a beautiful young lady in her early twenties. Rob winced. Did he have another young journalist to train?
“Rob, I want you to meet Miss Cindi Brown,” he heard McCarron say. He hardly remembered what his editor said afterward as he watched the shapely young woman, dressed in a blue business suit, blue high heels and a white blouse that revealed her luxurious buxom breasts. Her long, straight black hair hung down her boney looking shoulders and the twinkle in her deep brown eyes sparkled like the Fourth of July. Her long legs made her look more like a college basketball player. She was at least five-foot-nine, an inch shorter than him.
“I’ve been talking with Miss Brown for over two hours and decided her story deserved more than an article from our religion editor,” McCarron said, smiling at the young lady by his side.
What Rob was thinking when he heard his editor mention religion would violate one of the 10 Commandments.
He stared blankly into McCarron’s brown steely eyes. Neither his boss nor the young pretty lady smiled. Why would his editor give him a story with a religious angle?
“I’ll leave you two alone,” McCarron said, winking at Rob as he walked out of the office. “This might be a good story, Rob.”
“Please sit, Miss Brown.”
“You can call me Cindi,” she instructed as a smile crossed her smooth cream-colored face revealing perfect white teeth. Her lips were those of a gorgeous princess. The red lipstick was not inadequate looking. In fact, it accentuated everything about her. Her long black hair and ruby colored lips would attract any man. She had to be Latino, he thought. But, the name Cindi Brown didn’t match that of a Central American woman. He noticed the other male journalist looking into his office, and he closed the door.
“How may I be of help?” McRobbie finally managed to ask.
She fumbled with a brief case for a second before gathering a folder and placing it on his desk. The cover read, International Ministries for the 21st Century. McRobbie innocently let the file lay on his desk. He would read it later. First, he wanted Miss Brown to talk about why she was visiting, and why in the hell his editor brought her to him? He saved the latter thought for later.
“Mr. McRobbie,” she started awkwardly. “I am the public relations director for the International Ministries for the 21st Century. Have you ever heard of us?”
“Not sure I have, but go on, Miss Brown.”
“You might or not be aware we are holding our annual convention here in Birmingham next month. People from all over the world will converge on the city. The economic impact will be tremendous for the city. This is the Mecca of civil rights history and many of our members live in third world countries. But many come from Japan, Europe, Africa, South America, Mexico, Canada and even a few from China and Russia. We are a global spiritual organization that reaches out to people other than Christian. Some of our members are Muslim, Hindu and Buddhist. Our God is the God for all people. We believe God is Omniscient. The God we worship doesn’t belong only to the Jew and Christian, but to all people regardless of color and creed.”
“Hold on for a moment.” McRobbie held up his hand. He was certain that this beautiful woman who sat in his office could get really wound up in her ideology, and he wanted to stop it before she got carried away. He was not very religious although he believed in a Higher Creator. But religion was not something he talked about in front of friends much less a stranger.
“Why are you here?”
“Your editor seemed to think you can help our organization,” she said bashfully.
“I don’t know if you know it or not, but I am an investigative reporter. I investigate stories about people who are committed to harming other people, especially white collar crime.”
“Then, I must be talking to the right man. We need your help.”

******

McRobbie was finally able to make direct eye contact with the lady seated across his desk. He prided himself in being able to read body language, especially the eyes. It was something he intuitively did when interviewing subjects. He had been unable to look into Cindi Brown’s eyes because they had a look of seduction.
“After all I’ve told you about my work, you still want to talk to me about this convention you are putting on?” McRobbie got right to the point.
He saw her squirm a little bit in her seat, but her eyes were intently focused on him. It was an awkward feeling. She knew how to read body language and the language of the eyes as well as him, he thought.
“It’s a long story, Mr. McRobbie. But we need your help.”
“Who is we in the story,” he asked.
“The man who will be coming to Birmingham to speak to thousands of people at Legion Field is suspicious about this convention, and the people behind it. Dr. Ken Prior is an international speaker and author on self-development, one of the best known figures in the world when it comes to passions of the soul. He has written many books, been on the lecture tour for many years. He just went through a divorce. His wife left him for another man. They have seven children. He was running out of money before being approached by my boss through me. He wouldn’t be able to continue his lecture circuit without fresh money.”
“And, who is your boss?” McRobbie asked, finally taking his pen and scribbling down a few notes on his pad.
“I can’t say at the moment, Mr. McRobbie.” The subject before him began to tense her shoulders and he could see her eyes watering. “I shouldn’t be here. I must go.”
Cindi Brown stood up, picked up her briefcase and shook Rob’s hand.
“Wait just a minute, Miss Brown. You came here asking for help. If you are in such dire straits I need to know what this is all about.”
“I’ve already told you too much. I thought I could go through with this, but if my boss even knew I was talking to you my life could be in danger.” She went to open the office door.
“You must have told my editor more than you’ve already told me. Does he know what this is all about?”
“Mr. McCarron only knows part of the story, and he thought you would be able to investigate what we suspect to be happening concerning the convention. It’s more than a bunch of men getting together to fill their soul with spiritual energy. We feel that a larger picture is being framed by my boss, but right now it’s only a suspicion. Knowing my boss like I do, I can only imagine.”
“Sit down, Cindi,” McRobbie instructed. “I promise I’ll keep your suspicions to myself until we can accurately decipher what you’re talking about.”
Cindi sat down again and crossed her tan legs. McRobbie noticed. After all, he was great with body language.”
“Okay, now let’s start from the beginning,” McRobbie said.
“It all starts with Dr. Prior,” she started with a quiver in her voice. “He has been a leading exponent of men’s psychology for years. He’s helped many men learn from his teachings what it means to be a real man in the 21st century. The women’s movement pushed aside the man’s role in relationships, and he is reversing the challenge to men. He helps men take a deeper journey into the wounds, wonder, anger, grief and joy that comes from being a healthy man in the 21st Century.
“Birmingham is the pilot for this new enterprise. Dr. Prior is only a puppet in the show. We have over 100 young ladies set to embark on this city. They are called counselors, but in reality they are high society prostitutes.”
“Whoa!” McRobbie stopped her at this point.
“Why would someone bring in outside prostitutes to pick on little ol’ Birmingham? We have enough prostitutes around here.”
“They are going to pick their pockets, swipe their identity without asking for sexual pleasures. That’s the way it works. Besides the mayor of Birmingham is a sucker for any new ideas to bring attention to his city. He falls for anything and everything.”
“I can’t say I disagree with you on that point,” McRobbie said. This girl is good, he thought.
“The guys behind this scam have been around for years. It’s a carefully thought out plan. I know because I helped train the young women they are bringing to Birmingham.”
“Then you are in on this scam as much as anyone?” McRobbie was getting a little nervous and angry.
“That’s just the thing, Mr. McRobbie,” Cindy said, fishing for a handkerchief in her purse. “Since meeting the great Dr. Prior, I’ve changed my mind about my life. I want out of this mess, but I can’t. I am bound to these men or I will be killed if I go MIA.”
“Have you gone to the police or FBI about this?”
“No, I haven’t and I will not get them involved,” she told him. “Besides most of the upper management in your fine police department have taken cash to turn their heads concerning anything about the convention. You’d be surprised how much money has been passed around this state. My boss has his sights on the politicians in Montgomery. He is a big investor in the casinos on the Gulf Coast.”
“What’s his name?”
“I cannot disclose his name at this time. You will have to put on your Dick Tracy hat to follow these hoodlums. I am sick of them, and I want out of it. I’ve been with them since I was sixteen-years-old and the old man behind all of this thinks of me as his mistress. He loves me. I hate him. I turned over a new leaf after several meetings with Dr. Prior. I want a new life for myself.”
“Are you single?” McRobbie squirmed in his chair at the question. It was a little too personal, especially since he just met Miss Cindi Brown.
“I’m as single as they come, and I plan to keep it that way.”
Rob looked down at the notes he scribbled. It appeared he had nothing solid to go on except the word of some female nut case. He was beginning to wonder about her now. Was she actually telling him the truth or just trying to get out of jam and let someone else come to her rescue – like Rob McRobbie?
“Let me think on this for a day or two, Miss Brown. That is your real name, isn’t it?”
“You don’t believe anything I’ve told you, do you Mr. McRobbie?”
“I’ll do some snooping around and see if I can identify the men behind this alleged caper you’re talking about.”
“You cannot use my name in any stories you write. Do you understand? You will be dealing with something that is way over your head, and if you get too close to the fire, you will be char-broiled and used as Cajun meat in Creole.”
“Where are you staying in case I need to contact you?” McRobbie asked.
“I’m at the Hyatt Regency, room 532. I’ll be here only for a couple of more days and then return to Biloxi.”
“Is that where you are from?” McRobbie’s curiosity was taking on all sorts of what ifs – the attributes which make a great journalist. Every story has to answer who, what, when, where and how. Without them, there is no story.
Rob saw Cindi Brown to the elevator.
He walked away without a byline story for the next day.

Crooked Letter I -- Chapter One

Note: This is a rough draft of a new mystery, romance, suspense novel. I'd like feedback as to whether or not you would want to read more after the first chapter. If so, I will continue to post. I am nearly half-way through, and I am excited. I believe it is even better than The Cry of the Cuckoos.

Biloxi, Mississippi

Carlos Caretti lounged in his crimson-colored recliner inside the luxurious suite on the The Rebel Belle, one of several floating casinos in the Back Bay of Biloxi. Three of his top lieutenants sat on a sofa as Caretti questioned his underlings.
The Rebel Belle was one of the most lucrative businesses he owned, although he joked in federal court when he was accused of being “The Godfather of the Gulf Coast,” that he was merely a “tomato salesman” working for $1,600 a year, and he had interest in real estate. Gambling was a legal business now in the state of Mississippi and Louisiana. The Rebel Belle was one of the Gulf Coast’s best casinos and most “profitable.” And, it was legal. He didn’t know if he was better off now or when he ran illegal slot machines, bingo or ran a bootlegging operation at a younger age. Of course, his family was better off now, he thought. He was mostly legal in everything he did business-wise. That was – almost everything.
Some people referred to Biloxi as a “Poor Man’s Riviera,” but there was nothing poor in Caretti’s life. He was the one of the richest men in the South. No one knew exactly how much the Sicilian from Italy had stashed away in foreign banks. He didn’t know exactly. He only knew he was rich. He left finances to his consigliore.
“How’s de business?” Caretti asked the three men gathered in the room. He smiled and the wrinkles spread across his tanned, rugged face. He was 72-years-old, bald but had lived a robust life. With his wife of over 50 years dead, he had women at his beckon call anytime he wanted.
“Going great, boss.” His son, whom everyone called “Little Joe,” was the first to speak up.
“How’s de business doin’ in Colombia?”
“Still flowing, thanks to our Colombian friends,” Joe told him.
“How about de girls?”
“We’ve got the girls working hard,” Juan Escobar told him.
“That’s good. Real good,” Caretti said, blowing a curly ring of smoke from his black Cuban cigar.
“How’s de casino business?” he turned to look at Manuel Torres, who sipped on a martini.
“Our gaming operation is solid, boss,” said Torres.
Caretti stood up and walked around his lieutenants, touching each on the face with a gentle smack. “Then all is well in our little spot in de world?” It was more a definitive statement than a question.
All three men nodded affirmative.
“I’m a little, how you say it, concerned about the girls,” he continued. “Joseph, have you spoken to our little girl lately? Is she doing as I asked?”
“Boss, she’s doing great. She’s out spreading the word about our new enterprise. You’ve taught her well. One day soon we will be able to offer hope to millions of men who need love and affection. This religion thing was a great idea. Only you could pull something like this off and get away with it.”
Caretti burst out with laughter at his loyal son’s suggestion.
“Where’s she now?”
“She’s in Birmingham setting up the big convention. You know…making the rounds with the press, radio and TV talk show hosts. She’ll have the city leaders in the palm of her hand before this is over. The city will make a few bucks, but we’ll be the cash cow.”
“Des will be just the start of great things,” Caretti said, leaning over his son’s right shoulder and kissing him on the ear. “Dese men in Birmin’ham won’t know what got a hold of dem until we’re done and gone with millions of dollars handed over to our sweet, innocent young ladies. All in the name of God. None of de men will squeal because it will incriminate dem to their friends, families and Church communities. We’ve taken care of the cops, right? And, de boys on de council? It’s amazing what money will do in a lawman’s hands and especially their esteemed police chief. You took care of dem, son?”
“Yes, boss. No one will get in our path. I have to give it to you, Papa,” Little Joe said. “You’re God when it comes to raking in the dough.”
“You’s not seen anything like what I’ve cooked up for the state of Alabamy,” Caretti laughed. “We’ve got to get dem politicians in Montgomery to legalize gambling. We’ve got to extend our business to Lower Alabamy.”

Translating our feelings can overcome stress & depression

Too many people are being diagnosed with depression when in reality they are just unhappy, says an Australian psychiatrist Gordon Parker.
Parker conducted a study which included 242 teachers who were followed for a period of 15 years. During that time, more than three-quarters of them were found to meet the criteria for clinical depression. These criteria include having a “low mood” for more than two weeks combined with appetite change, sleep disturbance, drop in libido and fatigue.
Parker says that having such a low threshold for diagnosing clinical depression creates the risk of taking the normal ups and downs of living and treating them as an illness. He argues that treating these individuals will not be effective because there is nothing wrong with them.
I tend to agree. Feeling sad occasionally in response to our circumstances is a normal part of living. Emotional pain can be a signal that we need to make some changes in our lives. If you touch a hot pan and get burned, do you take a painkiller to deaden the pain or do you learn from your mistake and use a potholder the next time?
A recent telephone conversation with an acquaintance got me to thinking about stress, anxiety, depression and all that is associated with them. Her life at
home was under so much stress raising her children, she said, it was affecting her
job. She wanted to change job assignments thinking this would cure her stress at
home. She wanted to rid herself of the job stress and drop it on someone else. It’s not as simple as that!
Perhaps the root of the stress or depression is at the home rather than the job itself. If we get to the bottom of the stress at home, then we will bring a better
outcome to the job. We call it working from the inside, out. Fixing our internal
self is a good place to begin. It begins with you, not some other person such as
your husband or children or some external issue. Fixing this first will allow you to
overcome stress or depression. Depression, stress and anxiety are often companions, and this is a global problem. One in six people around the world will suffer from major depression at some point in their lives.
When new challenges and opportunities show up in our lives, we may diagnose ourselves as feeling scared when what we really feel is excited. Often we have not been taught how to welcome the thrill of a new opportunity, and so we opt to back off, indulging our anxiety instead of awakening our courage. One way to inspire ourselves to embrace the opportunities that come our way is to look more deeply into our feelings and see that butterflies in our stomach or a rapidly beating heart are not necessarily a sign that we are afraid. Those very same feelings can be translated as excitement, curiosity, passion, and even love.
There is nothing wrong with being afraid as long as we do not let it stop us from doing the things that excite us. Most of us assume that brave people are fearless, but the truth is that they are simply more comfortable with fear because they face it on a regular basis. The more we do this, the more we feel excitement in the face of challenges rather than anxiety. The more we cultivate our ability to move forward instead of backing off, the more we trust ourselves to be able to handle the new opportunity, whether it’s a new job, an exciting move, or a relationship. When we feel our fear, we can remind ourselves that maybe we are actually just excited. We can assure ourselves that this opportunity has come our way because we are meant to take it.
Framing things just a little differently can dramatically shift our mental state from one of resistance to one of openness. We can practice this new way of seeing things by saying aloud: I am really excited about this job. I am really looking forward to going on a date with this amazing person. I am excited to have the opportunity to do something I have never done before. As we do this, we will feel our energy shift from fear, which paralyzes, to excitement, which empowers us to direct all that energy in the service of moving forward, growing, and learning.
If a person feeds on negative thoughts all day long, every task and every trial that comes his or her way will be approached from a defeatist attitude. We have the ability to replace negative thoughts with positive ones. It takes practice, but it is worth it!

John W. Cargile, Msc.D, D.D. is a licensed pastoral psychology counselor. He is a member of the National Education Association and Alabama Education Association. He is the author of a new novel, The Cry of the Cuckoos. www.thecryofthecuckoos.com You can contact him at jwcargile@charter,net. All conversations are confidential.

Celebrity worship could mean our lives are really rootless

Looking at the legions of fans mourning the loss of Michael Jackson, one might think celebrity worship is a modern phenomenon.
But from the gods on Olympus in ancient Greece to the bobby-soxers swooning over Elvis Presley to Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie today, adulation of the stars is an age-old pursuit.
Jackson's sudden death last Thursday at age 50, just weeks before he was to launch a major concert tour, riveted the world. And hours earlier, the news that Farrah Fawcett, the 1970s sex symbol, had died of anal cancer captivated Americans who remembered her first for her role in TV's "Charlie's Angels" and later as a courageous woman sharing the intimate details of her battle with the disease. Earlier last week we had Ed McMahon, the sidekick to Johnny Carson, pass away.
The public's fascination with celebrities may seem new because we are such a media-immersed society, but it's really not.
When the composers Frederic Chopin and Franz Liszt performed in the 19th century, women threw their underwear at them. And 80 years after the death of silent-film star Rudolph Valentino, fans continue to visit his grave.
Celebrities tap into the public's primal fantasies and basic emotions, lifting people from their everyday lives and making them believe anything is possible.
In the case of Jackson, with what appeared to be numerous plastic surgeries and skin bleaching, the weirdness resonates with our own internal suppressed hidden wishes -- for immortality, gratification of sexual impulses and our wish for ageless beauty.
Humans at the core are social beings, and research has shown that the less connected people feel, the more they turn to celebrities.
While worshipping the rich and famous is harmless in itself, it could be perceived as symptomatic of a rootless culture in which many people feel a sense of isolation.
What we know of them (celebrities) through People magazine and other media sources fills a gaping and painful void in our lives. The dwindling influence of religion adds to that sense of yearning in people, making the stars' exploits and eccentricities, their loves and losses, more than a form of entertainment.
Religion is faltering, and in the process people are grappling with infantile wishes, with magical thinking.
For the most part, star status conveys a sense of immortality and invincibility -- and we are shocked when they die.
With loved ones, long-standing rituals help people cope. But with celebrities, fans can be at a loss. We don't know quite how to mourn the loss of stars because we don't expect them to die.
Is it appropriate to grieve a star's passing?
When Alabama football coach, Paul “Bear” Bryant, died in 1983 it was like we saw our cultural history disappear. You feel that someone you loved is gone, and it takes time to close the wound. Some of us haven’t gotten over it yet.
When a celebrity passes, the loss is personal -- not because we knew the celebrity but because they were with us as we grew up and as we had our own special moments.
If you're overcome with emotion, it might be satisfying to write down or talk through your feelings, either with a friend or into a tape recorder. Think of it as the loss of a family member and go with it. Although physically gone, deceased celebrities leave their art -- those are the memories.
But in a disposable culture such as today's, the mourning often doesn't last long.
Coach Bryant’s legacy hasn’t been as easy to replace as other celebrities, especially not in our neck of the woods which is the Tide Nation. No one has been able to replace him in our collective consciousness. Nick Saban could be the new replacement. Only time will tell.
When we fall into celebrity worship, we sometimes see that person in a glowing light. Their good qualities dominate the foreground of our perception and their negative qualities. They just don’t seem to have any. We knew Coach Bryant had a negative side. He liked to drink. No reporter dared to talk about his drinking or prescription drug problem while he was alive.
This temporary state of grace is commonly known as putting someone on a pedestal. Often times we put spiritual leaders and our gurus on pedestals. We have all done this to someone at one time or another, and as long as we remember that no one is actually “perfect,” the pedestal phase of a relationship can be enjoyed for what it is-a phase. It’s when we actually believe our own projection that troubles arise.
Everyone has problems, flaws, and blind spots, just as we do. When we entertain the illusion that someone is perfect, we don’t allow them room to be human, so when they make an error in judgment or act in contradiction to our idea of perfection, we become disillusioned.
We may get angry or distance ourselves in response. In the end, they are not to blame for the fact that we idealized them. Granted, they may have enjoyed seeing themselves as perfect through our eyes, but we are the ones who chose to believe an illusion. If you go through this process enough times, you learn that no one is perfect.
We are all a combination of divine and human qualities and we all struggle. When we treat the people we love with this awareness, we actually allow for a much greater intimacy than when we held them aloft on an airy throne. The moment you see through your idealized projection is the moment you begin to see your loved one as he or she truly is.
We cannot truly connect with a person when we idealize them. In life, there are no pedestals-we are all walking on the same ground together. When we realize this, we can own our own divinity and our humanity. This is the key to balance and wholeness within ourselves and our relationships.

John W. Cargile, Msc.D, D.D. is a licensed pastoral psychology counselor. He is a member of the National Education Association and Alabama Education Association. He is the author of a new novel, The Cry of the Cuckoos. www.thecryofthecuckoos.com You can contact him at jwcargile@charter,net. All conversations are confidential.