Monthly Archives: August 2011

Announcing Lullaby Tiger Publishing

It gives me great pleasure to announce to you the creation of Lullaby Tiger Publishing. I will be publishing my stories under this banner, and ask that you join with me in this celebration.
My first novel, under the Lullaby Tiger Publishing logo, is entitled The Thoroughbred Conspiracy, a story about a plot to control the Thoroughbred breeding and racing industry through the administration of a genetic poison. This is the prequel to Bluegrass Betrayal the International award winning story, currently on sale at, and on track to become a Lullaby Tiger novel by the end of August.
Also available is the third story in the Kentucky Chronicles series, Unbridled Terror, a story about three brilliant stallions each poised to run the Kentucky Derby. However, sinister plots are a-foot which place the race in jeopardy, not the least of which is a terrorist cell known as the Knights of the Caliphate who want to exterminate the city of Louisville. There is also an evil mob boss who steals one of the favorites, and is hell-bent on winning the race at all costs.
All of these novels are available on my website…, where you may order a personalized and signed copy of each.
Two novels are available in Ebook format through Smashwords, and are on sale at $2.99.
Just follow these links..
The Thoroughbred Conspiracy
Unbridled Terror

Won’t you also take a moment to spread the word about my books to everyone you know? Thank you so much for your support.

Stay well my friends… Rob


Always A Gentleman

Always A Gentleman

I recently spent some quality time with my eight-year-old grandson. We went to a few of his favorite restaurants, the playgrounds, and to the movies. He spent the night with me and we camped out in the downstairs den. During our time together, I tried to instill in him the desire to become and to always be a gentleman. I think it went through one ear and out the other much the same as it did when my dad tried to instill the same thing in me, many years ago.
He said to me, “Poppy, I don’t want to be a gentleman.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I don’t want to have to hold the doors open.”
I thought this was quite astute coming from an eight-year-old, but I had to remember that he was the only male in a house full of women, which includes his 14 year-old sister.
“That’s not the only things gentlemen do,” I said, thinking that would really change his mind.
“Gentlemen do,” I had to stop and think about all the things I could tell him that gentlemen are supposed to do, but he wasn’t listening. And why would he? I didn’t listen when my dad told me what to do. So, how did I grow up to become a gentleman? It was nothing my dad said, and he said plenty. It was the way he behaved. So much of him instilled itself in me by the way he lived his life… the way he spoke, smiled, the decisions he made, and the way he treated my mother and everyone with whom he came into contact.
My mom and dad raised four sons, and each one of us tried to be like dad in every way. As soon as we could crawl, we stood behind his right shoulder whenever we went anywhere in the car; this was well before car seats and seat belts. We went with him, each one of us, until we reached early adolescence. He had a steady string of followers as we are all four years apart, almost to the exact month.
Dad was very special to us and we admired him until the day he passed in 1996. He was our hero in many ways, not the least of which was due to his efforts during WWII. He was in the invasions of North Africa and Anzio Beach where he’d won the Bronze Star and received a battlefield commission to Warrant Officer. He would often regale us, at bedtime, with stories of how he’d drive behind enemy lines with no headlights, quite often without his driver who would conveniently find his way to sick call whenever the mission was deemed too dangerous.
Dad was the most influential person in my life mostly because he was very concerned that I and my brothers all become gentlemen, and that when we were confronted with the choices of life, that our decision would be based on “doing the right thing,” rather than doing something more convenient, or taking the easy way out. I would like to impart that message to my grandson, but need to do so through my actions instead of my words. I just wish I could spend more time with him because, you see, his dad overdosed on narcotics two years ago.
To this day, I give my father credit for doing more to shape my character than anyone I have ever met. It was never what he said, it was always what he did, and how he did it.
I humbly dedicate my first Blog to the memory of Francis James Monahan, and include a poem I wrote for him several years ago. He died a week before it was finished. It’s entitled,    Father…

The pages of my heart you turn
And in so doing, still I yearn
For days when I could sit upon your knee.

And when in memory I allow
To stroll back through what’s over now
Yesteryear, So joyful and so free.

I wander sweetly home again
To play the image and pretend,
Your gentle wisdom lights my fostered mind.

And yet, I only wish I could
Recapture there my childhood
And place my hand in yours just one more time.

Stay well, my friends.

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