,

Robert Gerdes

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Member Since
August 2015


The “war,” the Vietnam War that is, became the defining event of my generation of the 1960s.

“Winter Kept Us Warm,” the title from the fifth line of The Waste Land” by T.S. Eliot, is my homage to those days of the ever-receding past. We came of age at a time of youth rebellion against the draft and the war, free love, and occasional pot smoking.

Like Bob, the narrator of my novel, I was born in a suburb of LA and won a scholarship to the Chouinard Art Institute. Following the assassination of JFK, I gave up art to go east to Washington, DC to study economics at university. I wanted to follow in the late president’s footsteps and help suffering humanity. Instead, I got a draft notice.

But “once an artist, always an artist.” I returned to my fir
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Average rating: 3.4 · 5 ratings · 4 reviews · 3 distinct works
Winter Kept Us Warm

3.75 avg rating — 4 ratings — published 2015 — 2 editions
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The Journey of Miss Arian O...

it was ok 2.00 avg rating — 1 rating — published 2013 — 2 editions
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Ultimate Destination Unknow...

0.00 avg rating — 0 ratings
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WKUW Giveaway

To those of you "to-reads" here is another chance to win a copy of WKUW ("Winter Kept Us Warm").

If you don't win a free copy of my book, I DO recommend you purchase this realistic story of a couple of guys who matured before Stonewall and had to deal with their sexual challenges.

The book can be obtained in print format or electronically. Additionally, you can buy an autographed copy from my site Read more of this blog post »
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Published on August 24, 2016 19:11
Thomas Mann
“Cases of typhoid take the following course:
When the fever is at its height, life calls out to the patient: calls out to him as he wanders in his distant dream, and summons him in no uncertain voice. The harsh, imperious call reaches the spirit on that remote path that leads into the shadows, the coolness and peace. He hears the call of life, the clear, fresh, mocking summons to return to that distant scene which he had already left so far behind him, and already forgotten. And there may well up in him something like a feeling of same for a neglected duty; a sense of renewed energy, courage, and hope; he may recognize a bond existing still between him and that stirring, colourful, callous existence which he thought he had left so far behind him. Then, how far he may have wandered on his distant path, he will turn back--and live. But if he shudders when he hears life's voice, if the memory of that vanished scene and the sound of that lusty summons make him shake his head, make him put out his hand to ward off as he flies forward in the way of escape that has opened to him--then it is clear that the patient will die.
" Buddenbrooks”
Thomas Mann

Thomas Mann
“It is as well that the world knows only a fine piece of work and not also its origins, the conditions under which it came into being; for knowledge of the sources of an artist's inspiration would often confuse readers and shock them, and the excellence of the writing would be of no avail.”
Thomas Mann, Death in Venice

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