End of Summer Gift for My Readers

There are plenty of reasons to celebrate.

I’m sitting on my porch looking at the greenery outside. The sun is coming up, and I can hear the world around me slowly waking up. It’s so quiet, I can hear my thoughts. And I like it that way. My laptop is in front, and my coffee mug to my right. What a joy!

I know it’s the end of summer, when I see yellow and red leaves appear on our maples. I won’t miss the scorching heat, but I certainly will miss early sunrises. And a chance to write on the porch, while watching the fiery circle coming through the fully dressed treetops. It’s still enough time, before the people driving to work will break my solitude.

This year was different from the years before. There were bad things, there were good things. The worst was saying a goodbye to our furry member of our family, Bentley. He gave us 15 years of wordless joy, consolation, and companionship. In his last moments, his silent request was just to hold his head and squeeze his paw.

Some people think after the loss like this, the best solution is to get another dog. For me, it’s like telling a mother, grieving the recent death of a child, to get pregnant again. Never works, and one could see it as an insult.

I know that for Bonnie, and even more for her mother, the first anniversary of her Dad’s passing will be a difficult moment.

But there were good moments. The family vacations on the beach, our wedding anniversary trip to circle the British Isles, my trip to Poland to witness my friends’ 50th wedding anniversary. The best part was watching our 3-year-old grandson grow. What a delight!

I just raised my eyes from the keyboard and saw a pair of squirrels running up the tall, naked, mostly branchless pine tree. It’s funny, but they are different here. In Chapel Hill they are gray. In Poland, all were flaming red.

My writing progresses the way I never thought it could. The Murano trilogy is taking shape, and I see the entire saga more and more clearly. Pals Forever is out. The Resurrections has its cover, which I’ll reveal soon. And then, it’s just a click away to publish. The Eighteenth Camel is more than halfway done.

And now a bombshell. I had recently realized Murano’s saga parallels The Godfather story. I see plenty of resemblances, mostly unintended. It’s a blessing, and a curse. I never intended to copy the iconic piece of art.

So I revisited The Godfather I, II and III.

At the bottom of my archive drawer, I found a little container with the iconic logo. Inside the flat rectangular box, there were three disks and one additional with Coppola commentaries. To express my feelings, I have enough material for another post.

I see clearly now that Murano’s saga echoes Corleone’s. I did not intend it when I was writing the story. The major difference is that by the end, the Corleone family is blown to pieces, and Michael dies by himself. Jack, however, after surviving an attempt to end his life, being left only with his dog, still can reunite his brethren. And even expand it.

When I started my writing adventure, Bonnie had asked me to keep the ending happy and inspirational.

So to celebrate and end of summer, wishing y’all a joyous planning for Christmas, here’s my gift.

Drama in the Operating Room is an introduction to my writing. It’s designed mainly for the new readers, but not solely. The reader can get familiar with the characters, theme, problems, and the surroundings. And with my little quirky ways of expressing emotions.

If you wish to read it, please click on the link below.


And enjoy.


  • Good morning Vito…and Bonnie too! I loved reading your writing this morning and it brings back memories of when we visited you in the fall a number of years ago. The leaves were changing then too…something we don’t get to see.
    We are so sorry to hear of Bentley’s passing. We lost our dog nine years ago…and no…we didn’t go out to replace her. I don’t know if i could survive losing another one.
    Miss seeing you both…Eileen

    • I remember the house you visited in Chapel Hill. Just a rental, and we were still in boxes. Good memories. Kisses for Michael.

  • I am so sorry hearing about you losing Bentley. Our little fur babies are definitely part of our families., and we love them so much. We lost our little Maltese several years ago, and I still think about him. Sue Zacher


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