About The Author
Linda Marie Mako Kendrick is a graduate of John Marshall High School in Cleveland, Ohio.
She has pursued her education at Ohio University (AA, Journalism) at Athens, Ohio;
Mountain Empire Community College at Wise, Virginia;
Florida State University (BS, Business) at Tallahassee, Florida; and,
Case Western Reserve University, School of Law (JD, Law) at Cleveland, Ohio.
She has worked in the coal-mining industry (Virginia/Appalachia), the entertainment industry (Hollywood), and the mortgage business (Hawaii), but the bulk of her professional career has been spent as a Federal Contracting Officer at NASA, in her home town of Cleveland, Ohio.
She is an avid fan of the Florida State Seminoles NCAA Football Team, but she lives and dies with the fortunes of the Cleveland Indians, Cleveland Cavaliers, and of course (being a native-born Clevelander) The Browns.
She has pursued her education at Ohio University (AA, Journalism) at Athens, Ohio;
Mountain Empire Community College at Wise, Virginia;
Florida State University (BS, Business) at Tallahassee, Florida; and,
Case Western Reserve University, School of Law (JD, Law) at Cleveland, Ohio.
She has worked in the coal-mining industry (Virginia/Appalachia), the entertainment industry (Hollywood), and the mortgage business (Hawaii), but the bulk of her professional career has been spent as a Federal Contracting Officer at NASA, in her home town of Cleveland, Ohio.
She is an avid fan of the Florida State Seminoles NCAA Football Team, but she lives and dies with the fortunes of the Cleveland Indians, Cleveland Cavaliers, and of course (being a native-born Clevelander) The Browns.
Linda Marie Mako Kendrick is a graduate of yada yada yada ,,, so boring. Instead, let me tell you about the pet gerbil I had when I was a teenager.
Baestye lived in a small critter tank (glass sides) with a wheel, and a hollow log, and a water bottle, and cedar chips. The top of the tank was covered with a screen (not window screen, this screen had wires spaced 1/4" apart, and was quite rigid). This screen could support the weight of a full grown cat, and in fact, it did. Because every evening, after eating its dinner, my mother's Siamese ("Monsieur") would come into my room, hop on top of Baestye's cage, and spread out for an hour or so of watching Baestye run on his wheel, tunnel in his wood chips, or eat his food. One evening, while I was doing my homework, I saw Baestye pushing all of his wood chips into a corner of his tank, until they reached all the way up the side and touched the "roof". And when that was done, Baestye hunkered down into a little ball, and just sat there. Well, Monsieur comes in, and jumps on top of the cage, and sprawls out. Baestye starts running around in a circle, building up speed. This is new! Monsieur abandons his façade of mild disinterest, and is totally alert, sitting on top of the cage with his footpads pressed into the screen, and studying every move that Baestye makes. Baestye runs up the pile of wood chips, runs along the "bottom" of the screen -- and clamps his sharp little teeth into one of Monsieur's exposed footpads. Baestye has nothing to hold on to, except that footpad, so Baestye is just dangling there, swinging back and forth, as Monsieur realizes that he is IN PAIN. Monsieur tries to pull his foot away. Baestye ain't lettin' go. Monsieur pulls and pulls, and finally gets free. Baestye drops to the floor with a thud. Monsieur runs -- on three legs -- from the room. After shaking himself off, Baestye proceeds to evenly distribute HIS wood chips back on HIS floor of HIS home. After that, Monsieur would come into my room, look up at Baestye's tank, shake his paw, and leave the room. Monsieur never jumped on top of Baestye's cage again. Now, think about this: Monsieur was easily 100 times the size of a gerbil; cats EAT gerbils; and gerbils are hard-wired by instinct to stay as far away from cats as they possibly can get. Yet, Baestye resented being intimidated every night by that cat, Baestye devised a plan to retaliate, and Baestye executed that plan without hesitation. I've learned a lot in my life by reading, by listening, and by watching. From Baestye, I learned about courage. Oh -- and the pride that comes with owning your own home.
Baestye lived in a small critter tank (glass sides) with a wheel, and a hollow log, and a water bottle, and cedar chips. The top of the tank was covered with a screen (not window screen, this screen had wires spaced 1/4" apart, and was quite rigid). This screen could support the weight of a full grown cat, and in fact, it did. Because every evening, after eating its dinner, my mother's Siamese ("Monsieur") would come into my room, hop on top of Baestye's cage, and spread out for an hour or so of watching Baestye run on his wheel, tunnel in his wood chips, or eat his food. One evening, while I was doing my homework, I saw Baestye pushing all of his wood chips into a corner of his tank, until they reached all the way up the side and touched the "roof". And when that was done, Baestye hunkered down into a little ball, and just sat there. Well, Monsieur comes in, and jumps on top of the cage, and sprawls out. Baestye starts running around in a circle, building up speed. This is new! Monsieur abandons his façade of mild disinterest, and is totally alert, sitting on top of the cage with his footpads pressed into the screen, and studying every move that Baestye makes. Baestye runs up the pile of wood chips, runs along the "bottom" of the screen -- and clamps his sharp little teeth into one of Monsieur's exposed footpads. Baestye has nothing to hold on to, except that footpad, so Baestye is just dangling there, swinging back and forth, as Monsieur realizes that he is IN PAIN. Monsieur tries to pull his foot away. Baestye ain't lettin' go. Monsieur pulls and pulls, and finally gets free. Baestye drops to the floor with a thud. Monsieur runs -- on three legs -- from the room. After shaking himself off, Baestye proceeds to evenly distribute HIS wood chips back on HIS floor of HIS home. After that, Monsieur would come into my room, look up at Baestye's tank, shake his paw, and leave the room. Monsieur never jumped on top of Baestye's cage again. Now, think about this: Monsieur was easily 100 times the size of a gerbil; cats EAT gerbils; and gerbils are hard-wired by instinct to stay as far away from cats as they possibly can get. Yet, Baestye resented being intimidated every night by that cat, Baestye devised a plan to retaliate, and Baestye executed that plan without hesitation. I've learned a lot in my life by reading, by listening, and by watching. From Baestye, I learned about courage. Oh -- and the pride that comes with owning your own home.
My Mom loved to read. She told me about a book she was reading when she was 14. Well, it was "racy" by the then-current standards (Mom was born in 1914, so we're talking the standards of 1928!), and they took the book away from her before she finished reading it. Now, she told me about this several times during my youth. She mourned the disappearance of that book, and never knowing how it ended. When I was in my late 20's, living in Florida, I had a friend whose brother-in-law owned a bookstore, and I mentioned this story to him. No internet at that time. He said, you can advertise for the book in a newspaper that finds books, and is circulated to used book stores throughout the US. If a copy exists, they'll contact you. So I did. I got three replies! I bought the book for $3. Called Mom. "I've got a copy of Ishmael. I'll bring it up to Cleveland when I visit for Thanksgiving next month." DEAD SILENCE. "Or, I could mail it to you today." She didn't miss a beat. "MAIL IT!" Mom was a person of few words when she was serious. So, I mailed it. When I visited her at Thanksgiving, she looks at me and says (No -- not "Thanks for the book!" or, "Glad you're home!", none of that) -- she says, "There's a sequel." So, I bought her that one, too. ANOTHER $3! It took 50 years, but she found out how Ishmael's story ended.