The Pain of Betrayal

The reality is much worse than I imagined.

Back when I was writing fiction, one of my plots involved two characters who developed a deep romantic relationship.

be•tray | biˈtrā |
verb [ with obj. ]
1 expose (one’s country, a group, or a person) to danger by treacherously giving information to an enemy: a double agent who betrayed some 400 British and French agents to the Germans.

  • treacherously reveal (secrets or information): many of those employed by diplomats betrayed secrets and sold classified documents.
  • be disloyal to: his friends were shocked when he betrayed them.

2 unintentionally reveal; be evidence of: she drew a deep breath that betrayed her indignation.
DERIVATIVES
be•tray•al | -əl | noun,
be•tray•er noun
ORIGIN Middle English: from be-‘thoroughly’ + obsolete traybetray,’ from Old French trait, based on Latin traderehand over.’ Compare with traitor.

Jack, the woman in the story, was damaged goods — she’d lost her husband, who she loved dearly, when he killed a man in a jealous rage and was locked up in a foreign prison. For years, she tried bribing guards to get him out — stealing to get the money she needed — only to learn that he’d been dead almost as long as he’d been gone. She’d become an outlaw, basically destroying her own life, to get back a man who would never return. Along the way, she lost their child to a family member who threatened to expose her if she tried to find them. With everything she loved taken away from her, she took refuge alone in an outpost city, a borderline alcoholic watched over by a very close friend named Alex. That’s her backstory.

The man, Ray, entered at the beginning of the story as another outlaw who had chosen to take refuge in the same outpost city. He quickly became friends with Alex, and through him, with Jack. They had many similarities in their knowledge and skills and it was natural that they should hook up. They worked together as a team. His companionship and their lovemaking helped her forget the tragedy of her past. She fell in love with him and it seemed pretty clear that he felt the same way about her.

The only problem is that Ray wasn’t what he seemed. In reality, he’d come to take Alex out of the city. He was using his friendship with Jack and Alex as a means to achieve his real goal. As the plot unfolded, he stood by while one of his men gunned Jack down. Jack survived it, but was left with the pain of the feeling of betrayal.

As a writer, I had to instill my character with that emotion. It had to come through her in the way she spoke, looked, and acted. It wasn’t enough to say she felt betrayed; I had to get inside her head and make her feel betrayed. And then communicate that to readers.

That’s fiction. Whether I pulled it off will never really be known; the work is at a standstill and will never be published or shared.

But one thing is for certain: the feeling of betrayal is far worse than I ever could have imagined.

I’m going through it now. After 29 years of a life with a man I loved, a man who claimed he loved me and acted as if he did — right up to the moment I last saw him! — I’m discovering a huge web of lies and actions behind my back. As I learn more and more about his betrayal of my trust, everything that comes before our last communication is in question — including his true motivations for marrying me in the first place. As I realize that I can’t believe a single thing he told me, the pain grows and grows.

What makes it even worse in this situation is his complete failure to explain his actions. It’s as if he just doesn’t care — something I’m finding so hard to believe and accept after a 29-year relationship. But it confirms my worst suspicions about his actions and motivations.

A complete and utter betrayal of my trust, possibly going back for years and years.

The pain of betrayal is the worst pain possible. It’s a pain without end, rooted in once fond memories now analyzed and questioned. It’s pain made worse by realizing that someone you thought really cared about you apparently doesn’t care at all. Or, worse yet, is now bent on hurting you as much as he possibly can.

That’s where I am today.

A Penny for my Thoughts

Introducing Penny the Tiny Dog.

Those who follow this blog know that I spend my summers in Washington State, far from home, where I do mostly agricultural work with my helicopter. Before coming up here this spring, I was excited about the prospect of bringing along Charlie the Dog, our Border Collie mix. My husband was stuck in a 9 to 5 grind and I’d have most of my days free. It made sense to bring Charlie with me to come on my morning walks and play with my friend Pete’s Black Lab in the open spaces of farm country.

But just before my departure, my husband got a new job that made it possible to work from home. Charlie wouldn’t be left home alone all day after all. And he wouldn’t be coming with me to Washington.

Although I have Alex the Bird with me here in Washington, a parrot is not the same as a dog. I’d planned to take Charlie with me just about everywhere I went — I cannot do the same with Alex. I miss the companionship that you can only get from a dog (or a person on the same wavelength that you’re on). So the other day, in a moment of weakness, I stopped by the Quincy Humane Society.

Penny the Tiny Dog
Penny the Tiny Dog, sitting on the steps inside my RV.

And I left with Penny the Tiny Dog.

To be fair, her name wasn’t Penny. It was Pixie. But people who know me also know that I’d never have a dog named Pixie. Hell, I can barely say the word without being embarrassed.

But she is sort of like a pixie. Full grown and weighing in a just under 4 pounds, she’s absolutely tiny — smaller than most cats I’ve seen. In fact, I had to buy a cat harness for her because the dog harnesses at PetCo we just too darn big.

She’s the kind of dog you see people carrying around everywhere. The kind of dog in purses. The kind of dog people bring into shops, restaurants, and supermarkets as if they’re fashion accessories instead of — well — dogs.

I don’t play that game. A dog is a dog. And while a big, slobbering Great Dane is a different animal from a recently groomed toy terrier, they’re both still animals and need to be treated as such. So Penny won’t spend any time in a purse while she’s with me and she’ll be carried as little as possible. And she certainly won’t go into a place of business other than one that encourages the presence of dogs.

Penny and Beau
Penny and Beau. (And yes, Beau does have a bit of a weight problem.)

I do try to take her with me everywhere I go — provided it’s not too hot for her to spend some time waiting for me in the truck if necessary. She’s been to Pete’s winery and played with Pete’s Black Lab. She’s been out to the helicopter while I refueled it and buttoned it up for its rest time between flights. She’s been to PetCo twice and has waited in the truck while I’ve run errands in Quincy and Wenatchee and Ephrata. I’ve taught her how to climb up and down the steps into the RV and I’m trying to teach her how to jump in and out of the truck’s cab on her own.

Penny Chasing Birds
Penny’s favorite thing to do is chase birds out on the golf course.

In the evening, when the golf course I’m living on has emptied out for the day, we make the half-mile walk across the fairways and roughs to the two ponds they’ve stocked with trout. She’s fine off-leash, frolicking around, chasing birds and really having the time of her life. I can see that this is all new to her — she’s probably done more running around with me in the past week than she did in the first year of her life. She sniffs around the water’s edge as I throw food into the ponds and the trout make the surface boil. When the food is gone, we walk back. Or maybe I should say that I walk back and she runs all over the place around me until we’re home.

When I leave her alone in the Mobile Mansion, she plays with her toys and drags my shoes around. She hasn’t destroyed anything yet. She likes playing with Alex the Bird’s toys, so whenever Alex drops one from her cage top, she’s on it, chewing away. She has a love-hate relationship with a bell.

She’s not 100% housebroken, which is a bit of a pain in the ass, but we’re working on it.

When I get home from being out for a few hours, she goes nuts. I let her out onto the lawn to do her business and she jumps all over the place, rolling over and over like a crazy dog on the grass.

When I work at my desk, she either curls up into a ball at my feet or stretches out in a sunny spot on the floor for a nap. It’s as if she has two speeds: on and off.

At night, she literally climbs onto my bed — like a cat! — and tucks in next to my body. She’s tried to get under the covers with me, but I won’t let her. I still can’t believe I let her on the bed. She’s the first dog I’ve let sleep on my bed since the German Shepherd we had when I was a kid. But she’s so tiny and she remains absolutely motionless all night long. Turned off.

Technically, I haven’t adopted her. I’m fostering her. But the great folks at Quincy Humane Society encourage fostering for adoption and that’s the path I’m on. But I fully admit that I’m not sure whether she’s the right dog for me. She’s certainly not a replacement for Charlie, or even Jack the Dog before him. She requires too much supervision. She’s so small and not nearly as smart. She needs more attention — more care — to keep her safe.

But for now (at least), she’s a good companion.

A Visit from the Bee Man

Removing a swarm of bees is easy — if you know what you’re doing and aren’t afraid to get stung.

BeesThe text message from my friend Pete arrived just as I was trying to think of another way to procrastinate:

Bees swarming on the shop. Bee man is going to come get them.

A cell phone image accompanied the text. It showed a roof eaves absolutely littered with bees.

A while later, I was at my friend’s farm, watching the bee man set up. He was an older man who’d likely been doing his job for quite some time. He was dressed in a loose-fitting, white coverall that was tight at his wrists and ankles. An attached hood with mesh mask hung at his back. He’d arrived in a flatbed truck towing a forklift on a trailer.

BeesWhen I arrived, he was placing a wooden door atop a fruit crate on a forklift, forming an elevated table. He placed a white box atop that and raised the apparatus about four feet off the ground, right beneath the bee swarm. The bees looked even more impressive live. Pete, three of his sons, and two of his older son’s friends stood a good fifty feet away, watching.

The bee man explained that the bees were swarmed around a queen and that they’d likely decided to settle there. It was pretty obvious that they needed to be removed.

While folks in cities might call an exterminator, here in farm country, bees have real value. The “bee man” was a beekeeper who not only made honey but rented his bees out to farmers for pollination. In fact, Pete had a few dozen of his hives out by his apple trees. The bee man would take the bees home and set them up with their own bee hive boxes. Pete might see them again next year in more controlled conditions.

The Bee ManWhen Pete made it clear that he wasn’t interested in sitting on the forklift to lift the bee man and his box up to the swarm, the bee man fetched his forklift off the trailer and parked it beside Pete’s. He then raised the two sets of forks and climbed up beside the box.

And then, as we watched, he used his bare hand to scrape the bees off the eaves and into the box.

“These bees are very calm,” he said.

Bee Man in Action

Bees CloseupHe wasn’t kidding. He continued to sweep them down toward the box with his hand and, later, a stick. Although everyone else kept their distance, I got closer and closer with my camera. Soon I was standing on a third forklift parked inside the shop, not eight feet from the swarm and box, snapping photos.

Bee Man with iPhoneI wasn’t the only one taking photos. The bee man climbed down, went to his truck, and came back with his iPhone. He then climbed back up the forklift and used the phone to take a closeup photo of the bees. I’m wondering if his shot ended up on Facebook.

Lighting the Smoker

Smoking the Bees

It took quite a while — at least 30 minutes. The bee man was very patient. One by one, most of his other spectators wandered off. He was sure he’d gotten the queen in the box, but the rest of the bees were taking their time joining her.

After a while, he got out his smoker, torched the burlap piece inside, and used smoke to coax the bees into the box. He explained that the smoke makes the bees think there’s a fire so they go into the hive to eat honey in case its lost. They then get sleepy from eating so much. Didn’t sound quite right to me, but what do I know?

Bees on a TruckWhen he had most of the bees in the box, he covered it up, carried it back to his truck, and strapped it down on the flat bed. He pulled his forklift back onto its trailer and got ready to leave — but not before he gave Pete a plastic gallon jug of honey in exchange for two of Pete’s bottles of wine.

I’d enjoyed the show and was glad I’d gotten that text message.

Autorotation Explained

A primer for non-pilots.

One of my pet peeves is finding inaccurate information in works of fiction (or non-fiction, for that matter). You can argue all day long that fiction is fiction and the writer can write whatever he wants. After all, fiction, by definition, is a made up story. That gives the author license to make things up as he goes along.

I agree that it’s fine to make up the story, but unless it’s a work of science fiction or fantasy (where it might be acceptable to change the laws of physics), it’s not okay to make up the details of how existing things work. I explored this theme in my post “Facts in Fiction,” and picked apart the work of a bestselling author in “Dan Brown Doesn’t Know Much about Helicopters.” Both posts were triggered, in part, by basic errors about how helicopters work that appeared in works of fiction.

The Question

“Facts in Fiction” was also triggered by an email message I received from a writer looking for facts about how helicopters fly. Oddly, I just received another one of those messages not long ago:

I’ve recently been writing a novel in which I have to describe the sound a helicopter makes, how they fly and things along these lines.

But there is a section of my book where a helicopter runs out of fuel and begins to drop. However, below them is a forest and they crash into the canopy. But in order to minimize damage the pilot uses autorotation to make the helicopter somewhat stable. I don’t want to be an ignorant writer that makes stuff up at the expense of fact. I’ve looked up autorotation but it’s still not clear to me- would you be able to help me out with how a pilot would initiate autorotation (in simple terms!)

Again, I applaud this writer’s desire to get it right. The aviation community certainly doesn’t need yet another work of fiction that misrepresents basic aerodynamic facts.

Unfortunately, it’s pretty clear that this writer does not understand how helicopters fly. This is common among non-pilots. Some folks think that the rotor disc — when the blades are spinning — works like a giant fan that keeps the helicopter in the air. Other folks — well, I don’t know what they think. But very few seem to realize that like airplanes, helicopters have wings.

Yes, wings. What do you think the rotor blades are?

Helicopters are rotary wing aircraft. This means that they have wings that rotate.

The Real Question

Although this writer seems to want an explanation of “how a pilot would initiate autorotation,” he has a bigger misunderstanding to clear up first. It all stems around these two phrases:

…a helicopter runs out of fuel and begins to drop.

and

…in order to minimize damage the pilot uses autorotation to make the helicopter somewhat stable.

The problem is that if a helicopter ran out of fuel and the engine quit (assumed), the pilot has only about 2 seconds to enter an autorotation to prevent a catastrophic crash. You don’t enter an autorotation to “make the helicopter somewhat stable.” You enter an autorotation to maintain a controlled glide to the ground that, hopefully, concludes with a landing everyone can walk away from.

Or, put it another way, in the event of an engine failure, the pilot must perform an autorotation if he wants to survive.

So in order to answer the question this writer asked, I need to first address his misunderstanding of how helicopters fly and what autorotation does.

How Helicopters Fly

Let’s start with something most people do understand — at least partially: how an airplane flies.

An airplane has at least one pair of wings that are fixed to the sides of the fuselage. The wings have a specific shape called an airfoil that makes lift possible.

When the pilot wants to take off, he rolls down the runway, gathering speed. This causes wind to flow over and under the airfoil. After reaching a certain predetermined minimum speed, the pilot pulls back on the yoke or stick which lifts the airplane’s nose. This also changes the angle of attack of the relative wind on the wings. That change produces lift and the plane takes off.

Obviously, this is an extremely simplified explanation of how airfoils, relative wind, and angle of attack produce lift. But it’s really all you need to know (unless you’re a pilot).

A helicopter’s wings — remember, they’re rotary wings — work much the same way. But instead of moving the entire aircraft to increase the relative wind over the airfoil, the wings rotate faster and faster until they get to 100% (or thereabouts; long story) RPM. Then, when the pilot wants to take off, he pulls up on a control called the collective which increases the pitch or angle of attack of all the rotor blades. That change produces lift and the helicopter takes off.

It’s important to note here that when you increase angle of attack, you also increase drag. Whether you’re in an airplane or in a helicopter, you’ll need to increase the throttle or power setting to overcome the increased drag without decreasing forward speed (airplane) or rotor RPM (helicopter).

Rotorcraft Flying HandbookIf you’re interested in learning more about lift and how helicopters fly, I highly recommend a free FAA publication called Rotorcraft Flying Handbook. This is a great guide for anyone interested in learning more about flying helicopters. You don’t need to be an aeronautical engineer to understand it, either. If the text isn’t enough to explain something, the accompanying diagrams should clear up any confusion. I cannot recommend this book highly enough.

What Happens when the Engine Quits

Things get a bit more interesting when an aircraft’s engine quits.

On an airplane, the engine is used for propulsion. If the engine stops running, there’s nothing pushing the airplane forward to maintain that relative wind. Because it’s the forward speed that keeps an airplane flying, its vital to maintain airspeed above what’s called stall speed — the speed at which the wings can no longer produce lift. To maintain airspeed, the pilot pushes the airplane’s nose forward and begins a descent, thus trading altitude for airspeed. The plane glides to the ground. With luck, there’s something near the ground resembling a runway and the airplane can land safely.

On a helicopter, the engine is used to turn the rotor blades. If the engine stops running, there’s nothing driving the blades. Because it’s the spinning of the rotor blades or rotor RPM that keeps a helicopter flying, its vital to keep the rotor RPM above stall speed. The pilot pushes the collective all the way down, thus reducing drag on the rotor blades — this is how he enters autorotation. (The helicopter’s freewheeling unit has already disengaged the engine from the drive system, so the blades can rotate on their own.) The reduction of the angle of attack of the blades starts a descent, trading altitude for airspeed and rotor RPM. The helicopter glides to the ground. With luck, there’s a clearing or parking lot and the helicopter can land safely.

It’s extremely important to note that as long as the pilot maintains sufficient rotor RPM, he has full control of the helicopter all the way down to the ground. He can steer in any direction, circle an appropriate landing zone, and even fly sideways or backwards if necessary (and he has the skill and nerve!) to make the landing spot. So to say “the pilot uses autorotation to make the helicopter somewhat stable” shows complete ignorance about how autorotation works.

About 30 feet above the ground, the pilot pulls back on the cyclic to slow his forward airspeed. The resulting flare trades airspeed for rotor RPM, thus giving the main rotor blades extra speed. That comes in handy when he levels the helicopter and pulls the collective full up — thus bleeding off RPM, which he won’t need on the ground — to cushion the landing before touching the ground.

The point that needs to be made here is that helicopter engine failures and autorotations don’t always end in a crash. In fact, with a skilled pilot and a suitable landing zone, there’s no reason why it should end in a crash. So in the example presented by this writer, the helicopter doesn’t have to crash at all. It could have an engine failure and safely land in a clearing.

And here’s another newsflash: every helicopter pilot not only knows how to perform an autorotation, but he’s tested on it before he can get his pilot certificate. He’s also required to prove he can do one every two years during a biennial flight review. And if he’s like me, he’s tested annually by an FAA inspector for a Part 135 check ride.

Writers: Do Your Homework!

It’s good to see this writer trying to get the information he needs. But in my opinion, he went about it all the wrong way.

It’s been over a month since I got his emailed request for information. I never replied by email; this is my reply. Has he written his passage without the answers to his question? I have no idea. He never followed up.

But wouldn’t it have been smarter to simply talk face-to-face with a helicopter pilot? Any helicopter pilot could answer these questions and set him straight. Helicopter pilots aren’t so hard to find. Flight schools, tour operators, medevac bases, police helicopter bases, etc. Not only could the writer get his questions answered by someone who knows the answers from experience, but he could gather a wealth of information about helicopters, including their sound, why they don’t usually take off straight up, and other operation aspects. And if he visited a flight school or tour operator and had some extra money to spend, he could even go on a flight to see what it’s like from the inside of the aircraft.

Emailing a blogger who happens to write a lot about helicopters and complain when novelists get it wrong [hand raised] is downright lazy.

And despite what you might think, writing is not a job for lazy people.

Seriously, Adobe: WTF?

A brief rant about how Adobe software took over my applications folder.

I recently got a new Mac and did a clean installation of my software. Two of the first apps I installed — primarily because I needed them to finish work on a book — were Photoshop CS3 and InDesign CS4. A few days later, I upgraded Photoshop to CS5.

The screen shot illustrates how Adobe invades a computer system and fills it with software that the end user might not want. Yes, I’ve got three versions of Adobe Bridge — which I never use. Two versions each of Adobe Device Central and Adobe Extension Manager. Then there’s Adobe Media Player, which I suppose plays some sort of media. I don’t want it. And Adobe Stock Photos? Who asked for that?

Adobe Takes Over

It gets worse, though, when you peek into my Utilities folder (also shown). One of the installers added Adobe AIR, along with its uninstaller. I do admit to adding Flash — although I really didn’t want to. But tell me, does Adobe really need three folders for its other crap: Adobe Installers, Adobe Utilities, and Adobe Utilities – CS5? Digging deeper into one of these folders (also shown) reveals even more from Adobe.

And these are just the items that aren’t hidden away in secret places all over my hard disk. It’s as if I invited a houseguest and he emptied his suitcase all over my house for the duration of his stay. What makes him think that’s okay? And if I ever kick him out, will I ever be able to find and remove all of his crap?

Even Microsoft Office doesn’t do this.

My question: Why?