with his wife and two sons. His background in education, archaeology, business, travel, and adventures of all kinds, comes through in his writing. Few authors have such a rich and varied experience base to draw from. He has been called a Renaissance Man, a Social Commentator, a Teacher’s Teacher. He’s been a thorn in the side of the educational status quo for forty years.
Descry is currently researching a book focused on the Inupiaq Eskimos in Alaska and the dynamics of their land above the arctic circle.
The variety of his writings is evident in:
Raven’s Chance, a study of insanity and the paranormal. A novel about a woman...an archaeologist gone mad...and her experiences with morphic fields and travel through time and other minds. A unique and exciting book you’ll read and reread. One of the more challenging works of our time.
The Spirit of the Estuary, is a history-mystery told through the life of a murdered Seri Indian woman. It is set in the northern Sea of Cortez (Gulf of California) region of Mexico, and gives the reader a spectacular view of the northern coast and the Colorado River Delta. Reviewers describe it as a work of art and education.
The Spirits in the Ruins, is a history-mystery which challenges the reader’s detective abilities as Arnie Cain attempts to solve the century old murder of a Native American leader. Descry provides insights into the illegal trade in Anasazi grave goods, and a previously untold history of the Ute Mountain Ute Indian people. The first positive Ute history written.
The Spirit of the Sycamore,
I WAS ENJOYING LIFE and beginning to accept middle-age. Then zap! I put down the latest women’s magazine and started worrying about osteoporosis, estrogen and menopause. The promised afflictions hit me hard, an assault on what remained of my self-confidence and dreams. I recall the exact day and time my "end" came around to block my "new beginning." That day I found myself straddling the top of the hill and starting to fall down the other side. Age. Middle age. Old age. Damn! Why now? My life was finally coming together just as I was getting comfortable with me, my body, my life. The messages I read said I must prepare for the decline and fall. I’d be a wrinkle in time!
Exercise, supplements and vitamins became the subject of every conversation. I pinched more than an inch. I looked in the mirror for a hump on my dowager’s back. I bought wrinkle cream and special jells that would help me keep my skin, hair and looks. I went to the doctors and had tests that probed and pinched, squeezed and scraped, invaded, and televised parts of my body which had never before seen light. The reports trickled back to me. I was okay, for now. My relief was tempered by the fear that "for now" was yesterday. And today? A lump, cyst, polyp or spongy bone might be forming. I knew I had to prepare myself to be the victim of my body’s degeneration. I had to watch as my remains slipped into old age. It was awful! It was the one mid-life crisis that wouldn’t go away. All someone had to say was "menopause," and I felt hot, like I was losing my mind.
My worst enemy was the bathroom mirror. I decided it was the fluorescent light. The man at ACE Hardware sold me a tube which "Is softer and compliments true skin colors." I carried it home like a found treasure, certain my image would change. The light was softer and kinder. But even in that light, a dismal face stared back at me as if someone from the future peered out to see what had been. The little girl inside me winced. I had to learn about make-up and ways of hiding skin.
It took longer to get ready each morning. I had to schedule make-up stops during the day, and I had to cream it off at night so my head didn’t slip off the pillow. Crying, sweating, rain and scratching were things young girls enjoyed. Dancing cheek-to-cheek was risky, not that I had many opportunities. Oh, and my dry cleaning bills. That stuff seemed to get on my clothes and only they knew how to get it out.
Even though I stayed thirty-nine for almost five years, I aged. I decided my youth had passed. I did the best I could to look good and plunged ahead into life, as if I had a choice. Then one day...actually it was a Saturday morning and I had just stepped out of a long steamy shower...my investment in the fluorescent tube paid off. I dried off and stood naked in front of the mirror. I caught a glimpse of a woman without lipstick or any make-up. A woman with a nice body. A person pleasantly Rubenesque, with natural beauty complimented by a peppering of gray hairs. An attractive woman, puddling boobs and all. I didn’t know the woman, but as I turned to go she left with me.
I got my hair arranged as I liked it, comfortable and loose. I patted my face dry and let the wrinkles crinkle as I smiled. I dressed in a loose fitting shirt, one Bobbie had left for me to wash, and slacks with a smart cut and tapered legs. I found the sash my niece Marilyn had given me for Christmas, and tied it in place. In flats, my breasts firm custard quivering inside my shirt, I ventured a quick look in the full length closet mirror. Maybe a touch of lipstick...just a blush of rouge.
The Annie reflected there was the Me that had been lost. Still, I had no confidence. I called Barb and asked her to go to lunch with me. Barb was the sharpest critic I knew. If she liked what I had done...or rather what I hadn’t done...then I’d change my image.
Barb got out of her car as I came out of the house to meet her. I wanted to make a grand entry, exiting the house and gracefully flowing down the steps. It worked. Barb let out a whistle and gave me an-arms-holding-me-at-distance-so-she-could-see-me hug.
"Damn girl, you ain’t cast in cement anymore!"
She let me go and did a stiff-legged walk around me.
"Honey Babe! You don’t need an uplift harness when you’ve got natural movement like this! Where were you keeping this charm? If this is the new you, you better be prepared for lots of fun!"
What an ego builder! She grabbed my arm, promising to take me to lunch and show me off. She warned me men would think I was the main course. She got the message across. This natural look was the Annie I wanted to be.
