Tossing / Davis Fish Tales & Coyote Stories
1. Auflage 2014
ISBN: 978-3-939832-69-0
Verlag: KUUUK
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark
Two Germans in the Wild, Wild West
E-Book, Englisch, 266 Seiten
ISBN: 978-3-939832-69-0
Verlag: KUUUK
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark
Travel books about the United States of America often focus on the mighty space, the grandeur of landscapes and sceneries, their multiplicity and fascination – America the Beautiful. And all of it is true.
However, in this charming and amusing book, you will find even more; all the little stories and tales which happen on the sidelines of everyday life, on the fringes of society, and within or surrounded by beautiful landscapes. All the different characters of people who appear, communicate and then pass by. Events which happen by chance or accident, through fate or even bad luck. They all give the US visitor more than a glimpse into the culture and natural beauty of the country.
What you can expect are vanishing rivers, mystic encounters with legends from the Old West, trash turned to treasure, and park rangers who expect you to do odd things. Yes, of course, you also find the fish stories. Yarns are spun from the coasts to the hot deserts where the coyotes tell you their tales. Well, there will be some trouble with the police as well.
It is the small clash of cultures which makes you reflect, remember, and, in the end, smile. You hear about all the crazy things you inevitably encounter traveling in and around the United States of America.It is all written with deep and warm sympathy for the people of this amazing country, and, of course, with a good sense of humor and sophisticated irony as well. Come on; read it and love it!
Zielgruppe
Alle Menschen, die in die USA reisen, gereist sind oder noch reisen wollen.
All people who travel to the US, have traveled or will still travel.
Alle Menschen, die sich für Land und Leute in den USA interessieren.
All people who are interested in the United States – for the country and the citizens.
Alle Menschen, die sich für ironische und humorvolle Betrachtungen interessieren.
All people who are interested in ironic and humorous observations.
Alle Menschen, die sich für kulturelle Unterschiede interessieren.
All people who are interested in cultural differences.
Alle Menschen, die Reiseerlebnisse in literarischer Form genießen möchten.
All people who want to enjoy travel experiences in literary form
Alle Menschen, die Kurzgeschichten und Erzählungen mögen.
All people who like short stories.
Alle Menschen, die Land und Leute besser kennenlernen und verstehen wollen.
Weitere Infos & Material
2. Arizona Highways
There is but one man in the world whose job I truly envy. He calls himself “The Poor Old Editor” and he is the editor-in-chief of the monthly journal, Arizona Highways.
Dick and I became acquainted with this American journal of cultural heritage when our Uncle Theo from Portland, Ore., gave us a subscription as a Christmas gift in the early ’80s.
When we held our first edition in hand, we immediately concluded that this was the photographic quality, with its color and high gloss, that we had been striving for in all of our own vacation photos and yet had never been able to achieve.
We also noted that the stories in the magazine, both thoroughly researched and written in captivating style, closely mimicked our own travel experiences.
We became long-term subscribers. Our interest was not only limited to current editions. We sought out past issues of the journal as well, which we were able to find in antique shops and malls while traveling around the United States.
Our diligence brought us a certain level of expertise in the field.
“So, what villages and cities do you think they will cover in the next issue of our Arizona Highways?” This became Dick’s standard question to me.
“Flagstaff, Prescott, and Jerome,” I replied, or “Kingman, Tuba City, and Sedona.” Ninety percent of the time, I was right.
Seasonal focal themes were predicted with high accuracy as well. I foresaw photo reports on “First Snow at Bright Angel Point” in the December issue and “Wildflower Blossom in the Superstition Mountains” in the March edition.
As we intensely studied the journal over time, we learned to appreciate some of the finer details. For example, no reader’s letter was ever too foolish or too childish to be dismissed by Poor Old Editor. Each submission received a carefully formulated reply, enlisting good humor and managing to turn stupidity into irony and even banality to comedy.
Over two decades, I scrutinized every journal thoroughly and came to greatly admire the editor and envy him his marvelous job.
However, when it became apparent that Poor Old Editor would retire soon, as they were already searching for his successor, I recognized the urgency for immediate action.
In my opinion, there was no one better suited for this job than I!
If I did not put myself at their disposal to succeed their editor-in-chief, it would mean a substantial loss of quality for Arizona Highways.
In my most eloquent manner, I wrote to the magazine conveying those exact thoughts while at the same time, trying to fuel a certain sense of urgency. Casually, I mentioned that I was going to be visiting Phoenix within the next few weeks to enjoy the blooming desert.
Americans are uncomplicated people. They simply replied that I was welcome to join them at their editorial offices on Lewis Ave. in Phoenix and then gave me a date for an interview.
Following an extremely dry winter, spring arrived with a total absence of any desert blossoms – except those flowering from the title page of Arizona Highways, where smiling prairie meadows lay resplendently at the foot of the Superstition Mountains near the Apache Trail.
However, it did not bother me too much as I awaited my interview date with feverish excitement.
The great day dawned. At the editorial office, I was met by the publisher, an executive managing editor called Jeff, a younger photo reporter, and, of course, Poor Old Editor himself who greeted me with a friendly smile. I took a liking to him at once.
As for the other three – the publisher kept a cool distance, the young photo reporter played a waiting game, and I perceived Jeff, the executive editor, to be quite aggressive and full of bravado.
After a little small talk, when they unanimously marveled at my accent-free English, Jeff took the praise as ammunition for his first attack. “Can you imagine a German in the position of editor-in-chief of Arizona Highways?” he asked pointedly.
“Can you imagine a Texan in that position?” I countered smartly.
He twitched and his eyelids fluttered. Through some meticulous research, I had discovered that he was born in Galveston, Texas. The others grinned and smirked. One point for me.
Things got serious when they asked me about my skill and competence as a publicist. Having a scientific background and being an employee of a big pharmaceutical company, my experience in this field was rather limited.
To get the attention of readers in my business, one had to reveal trade secrets to the yellow press. I had refrained from such indiscreet practices in the past.
So I began by describing how I had built up a school magazine in the late ’60s. When this failed to make any visible impression on them, I quickly moved on to a discussion of my current activity as co-editor of a small hematological scientific journal.
They knitted their brows and the wrinkles on their foreheads grew deeper. I then enthusiastically remarked that I also regularly wrote articles as a product specialist on interferons.
They were clearly not impressed.
“How many readers do you think you have?” Jeff asked me coolly.
I became painfully aware that, per article, it was no more than a handful who were seriously interested in my work.
So I cleverly masked this quite unimpressive result by stating that the number of my readers could be easily derived by finding the quadruple root of all yearly Arizona Highways subscribers.
With the exception of Poor Old Editor who smiled mischievously and the young photo reporter, who vainly attempted to check his sums, the others quietly dismissed my academic arrogance.
Next question.
“Tell us three Arizona locations you would report on in our next issue.” There was nothing to reflect on here. “Globe, Steamboat Canyon and Show Low,” came my definitive answer, for these were the only Arizona villages I had never seen previously mentioned in any edition of their journal.
“We reported on Globe seven years ago when country singer Will Rogers’ Cadillac was damaged there during a hailstorm,” Jeff growled.
“And Steamboat Canyon is located in New Mexico,” the photo reporter added precociously.
The publisher, however, asked me another question in the meantime. “What are you going to do to substantially improve the Arizona Highways publication?”
I drew the latest March issue from my pocket, pointed at the title page with the blooming prairie at the foot of the Superstition Mountains and proclaimed, “I would drastically diminish the use of archive pictures.”
Now it was their turn to look embarrassed. The interview slowly ground to a halt.
“As the new editor, with what gimmick would you introduce yourself to our community of readers?” they asked.
“I would be portrayed at a howling contest with coyotes,” I answered sophisticatedly.
Again, only Poor Old Editor was pleased and receptive to my subtle sense of humor.
“And if you were me, how would you retreat from my position?” he inquired.
“I would bid the reader a melancholy farewell with a rattlesnake in my hand.”
He ended the meeting, heartily telling me that he enjoyed the inspiring interview. The others, however, offered not even a few kind words as they dismissed me. They looked at me with disapproval.
It was quite clear at that time that they were not focusing on a worthy successor for the Poor Old Editor but simply on an immediate replacement.
In follow-up, I received no more than a polite letter from the publisher informing me that they had decided on another candidate.
The new editor-in-chief introduced himself in the May edition with a photo that showed him whitewater rafting on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon.
The Poor Old Editor, however, waved good-bye to his readers on the same page with a melancholy smile and a snake in his hand.
From then on, I scrutinized the new editor-in-chief thoroughly and, of course, suspiciously. It was, after all, up to me to make sure that the magazine maintained its high standards. So I always found something to criticize.
His first act as new editor-in-chief was to get rid of the humor column. Granted, I really never cared for it much anyway, but just to keep him on his toes, I wrote him dozens of outraged and irate protest letters under different pseudonyms.
He even published some of them, responding and explaining in his typical long-winded fashion.
I also noted, with irritation, that while he professed to appreciate a “spiritual experience of nature,” he was simultaneously accepting more and more articles accompanied by computer simulated photographs of landscapes.
More protest letters followed. Again he reacted with incomprehensible explanations and vague excuses.
When the next issue came out, I happened upon a rather mundane ghost town story from Bisbee called “Ruby and her Jilted Husband.” I offered him, under pseudonym, a much better one that was set at the Copper Queen Hotel in Bisbee, which I called “A Vengeful Elevator.”
He commented that he would consider it the second-best ghost town story from Bisbee he had ever heard.
Well, finally, a faint trace of humor.
Therefore, I decided to give him one last chance. I wrote another bogus reader’s letter and asked hypothetically if I, as the author of a short story collection, could name it “Arizona Highways” even though my stories...
