Monthly Archives: January 2026

WINGSPREAD Zine for January, 2026


Spreading wings in a perplexing world
January, 2026                                                    James P. Hurd

Please forward and share this zine with others. Thank you.

Contents

  • Writer’s Corner
  • Blessed Unbeliever 
  • This month’s story: “A Strange Day at the Office”
  • This month’s puzzler
  • WINGSPREAD Zine subscription information
  • Wisdom

Writer’s Corner

Dedicated to the world of words and to those people who create them.

NEW BOOK!  I have begun assembling a new book gleaned from the last ten years of my blogs, along with new and revised stories about flying, Latin America, growing up fundamentalist, and about religious faith. Updates will be coming.

Want to browse WINGSPREAD stories from the archives? Click here, then click under “archives” at   https://jimhurd.com/     These stories include memoirs, stories about bush flying, personal essays and other topics.

Here are a few examples:

The Annual Physical (humor)  https://jimhurd.com/2024/10/

Pitch Perfect (flying)                  https://jimhurd.com/2024/03/

Mission to Mexico                      https://jimhurd.com/2020/10/01/mission-to-mexico/

Writer’s Tip:. Supercharge your writing with sensual experience. Don’t tell the reader how you character feels. Make your reader feel these emotions. Use sounds (the wind), sights (a flowering meadow), touch (she ran her hand over the plane’s cold aluminum skin), and, often neglected but powerful senses—taste (sweet, salt, sour, bitter) and smell (perfume, smoke, fresh air, decay). These sensual experiences draw the reader into your constructed world.

.On Craft and Quality

  • “Good writing is rewriting.” – Truman Capote
  • “Easy reading is da*n hard writing.” – Nathaniel Hawthorne
  • “Less is more.” – Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (so true in writing)
  • “The road to hell is paved with adverbs.” – Stephen King (try to eliminate them)
  • “No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader.” – Robert Frost
  • “If a story is in you, it has to come out.” – William Faulkner

On Discipline and Persistence

  • “A professional writer is an amateur who didn’t quit.” – Richard Bach
  • “The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.” – Louis L’Amour
  • “Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work.”
                Chuck Close
  • “Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.”
                Benjamin Franklin

Digital resources: Where publish your blog? I use a WordPress website. Friends of mine use Substack. If you blog on one platform, it is easy to “share” your blog on another.

Word of the month. PRIMARY (v.). To try to eliminate a person from office by opposing them in a primary election. For example, if a Republican U.S. Representative comes from a district that has always been safely red Republican, the only real way to challenge her is to primary her. That is, put money and support into another candidate who wants the Republican nomination and try to beat her in the primaries. Used in a sentence:: “Because the President doesn’t like her, he’ll probably try to primary her in 2026.”

Task for you: If you have an anecdote or quote you wish to submit to publish in WINGSPREAD, send it to me for consideration.

TV series of the month: Shakespeare & Hathaway. The BBC’s funny sleuthing stories about Lu and Frank, private investigators in Stratford-on-Avon. Find them on BritBox―my favorite streaming service. BritBox also has Agatha Christie’s Pirot, Sherlock Holmes, Chesterton’s Father Brown, Jane Austin movies and many others. I love it that my kids add me to their subscriptions, If I hit a paywall I just punch the button and never see a bill. Why is that?

BLESSED UNBELIEVER novel

Sean’s serene childhood turns to tortured adolescence as he leaves for college and finds himself telling people he’s an atheist—.at a Bible Institute!

Available in paper or Kindle version at Wipf and Stock Publishers, Amazon https://a.co/d/9su5F3o or wherever good books are sold.

Hashtags: #blessedunbeliever #christianwriter #babyloss #southerncalifornia #planes #aviation #humanist #pilotlife #religion #travel #aviationgeek #orangecounty #godless #atheism

New story

“A Strange Day at the Office” (a chapter from my Blessed Unbeliever novel)

Then Myra went crazy. Dear, bubbly Myra, not quite obese but pleasantly plump, long dark hair, black eyes, plenty of lipstick, gregarious, and the owner of a loud, sultry voice. She radiated Eau de Toilette and brought fun with her wherever she went.

Marion told Duane, “Put some music on your radio.” When the music started, Myra jumped up on her chair, then onto her desk, revealing high heels and plump legs showing through her sheer hose. She flung her arms above her head, swayed her hips, twirled her short red dress, and sang lustily, her gold bracelets and Star of David earrings swinging in time as Marion and Duane sang and clapped. For Sean, this was a day to remember . . .

Then the big boss walked in . . .

To read more,click here: https://tinyurl.com/ntad9bn3

Leave a comment on the website, subscribe and share with others. Thanks.

You can also access my articles on Substack:   https://jameshurd.substack.com/

This month’s puzzler (thanks to NPR)

This is a phonetic puzzle. I’m going to read you some sentences. Each sentence contains homophones of two opposites. (Ex. People in Albany enunciate well. (all, none)

Note: The homophones may be buried inside words, but they’re always discreet syllables. They always change spelling from their parts in the sentence.

1. The model wore a timepiece on her ankle.
2. Who will underwrite the cost of the sarong?
3. This is a rare Bolivian diamond.
4. The customer got a souvenir from the pharmacy.
5. Let’s celebrate by throwing a party.
6. The stoker must reignite the furnace daily.
7. Can buffalo experience hypertension?

 (Answer will appear in next month’s WINGSPREAD newsletter.)

Answer to last month’s puzzler: 

What is odd about this paragraph: “This paragraph is odd. What is its oddity? You may not find it at first, but this paragraph is not normal. What is wrong? It’s just a small thing, but an oddity that stands out if you find it, what is it? You must know your days will not go on until you find out what is odd. You will pull your hair out. Your insomnia will push you until your poor brain finally short circuits trying to find an oddity in this paragraph. Good luck.” 

The oddity in this paragraph is, there are no E’s in it. Not a single E.

For a time, E was the most popular letter. But that paragraph above does not contain an E.

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Wisdom

Visual: “Inside the Warm Glow,” by Kaoru Yamada.

Be present, O merciful God, and protect us through the hours of this night, so that we who are wearied by the changes and chances of this life may rest in your eternal changelessness; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.—BCP

Loving the unlovable:

“There is someone I love, even though I don’t approve of what he does. There is someone I accept, though some of his thoughts and actions revolt me. There is someone I forgive, though he hurts the people I love the most. That person is me.” Misattributed to C.S. Lewis

Social skills:

“Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.”

—Oscar Wilde

Child discipline in the electronic age:

I caught my son chewing on electrical cords so I had to ground him. He’s doing better currently and now conducting himself properly.

Obsolete Objects & Concepts

  • fopdoodle – foolish or insignificant person
  • beadledom – petty, fussy authority
  • zounds – exclamation (“God’s wounds!”)
  • gadzooks – mild oath (“God’s hooks!”)
  • smock – woman’s undergarment (now mostly archaic in that sense)
  • flapdoodle – nonsense
  • truckle-bed – a low bed stored under another

Upscale dining

Rapid aging

As they wait for the bus, Mother tells little Phillip to say he’s 4 years old if the driver asks, so he can ride for free.

As they get into the bus, the driver asks Phillip how old he is.

“I am 4 years old,” Phillip replied.

“And when will you be six years old?” asked Perry.

“When I get off the bus.”

A Strange Day at the Office

An excerpt from my Blessed Unbeliever novel.

In February of that long winter of his second TBI year, Sean told the student employment office he was sick of his factory job, so they found him work downtown in an insurance company on the twenty-fifth floor of the Tribune Tower. This job would be very different—lots of contact with people―people, Sean feared, that would be very different from himself.

On his first day of work, Sean ate early lunch at TBI, then walked out through the arch toward downtown. A group of guys who worked at the Federal Reserve Bank streamed in front of him, talking and yelling as they jogged across the intersections, ignoring the traffic lights, zig-zagging between the stopped cars, hopping over hoods. When they would leave the bank later that afternoon, the bank guards would turn their pockets inside out looking for pennies.

Sean turned left on Illinois Street, then walked down Michigan Avenue toward the Chicago River. He stared up at the Tribune Tower, the giant building shrinking him into insignificance. A steel and concrete monolith built in 1925, its thirty-six stories, soared 462 feet above its glass façade. He entered the lobby through a revolving door and passed the coffee counter, found the bank of elevators and told the operator, “Twenty-fifth floor.”

Exiting the elevator, he found the huge First Chicago Insurance office suite where the hiring manager waited. “The bulk of our staff works in this main office,” he said, “but you’ll work in the smaller office down the hall.” They walked in to see a manager sitting at a large desk inside a glassed-in cubicle. He wore a dark business suit, white shirt and tie, and his umbrella hung on a wooden coat stand. “Sean, this is Mr. Merton,” the manager said. “He’ll introduce you to the others.”

Sean shook Mr. Merton’s hand, who pointed and said, “That’s Duane; he’s our junior underwriter. Marion and Myra over there are our office assistants.” They all nodded and smiled. Mr. Merton never smiled. “Myra here will give you a stack of policies to file. The red-tagged folders are active; the others are expired.” Then he walked back into his cage.

Myra helped Sean learn how to organize the slightly-askew, dog-eared folders that hung in the file drawers. He liked Myra immediately—pretty, bombastic, friendly, she lit up the office. He began organizing the bills, receipts and records of sprinkler damage that Myra had strewn helter-skelter across his desk. He thought, These wrinkled folders wouldn’t inspire much customer confidence.

Mr. Merton kept a clean and organized space. The few times he emerged from his office he would lean against a desk and deliver pep talks to his minions—“If we get these insurance claims organized and wrapped up, it’ll put a real feather in all our caps.”

Privately, Duane told Sean, “He means a feather in his cap.”

Duane, tall and darker-skinned and smelling of cologne and tobacco, carelessly slicked his black hair back. When he smoked he sucked in his cheeks and his long, languid eyelids drooped over a fetching smile that revealed confident teeth.

Duane loved to flirt with Marion, a slightly-built Catholic girl who would toss her blond hair and blink her big, hazel eyes, always looking cute in her see-through blouse and tight skirt. Duane told Sean, “I like Marion, but she’s Catholic and I’m Lutheran so I don’t know how we could get together.”

One day Mr. Merton called in sick and put Duane in charge. That would be the day the inmates took over the asylum.

Duane opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle. “Myra, get some plastic cups in that drawer over there. Could you pour?” Sean had never tasted alcohol and Torrey Bible prohibited drinking, but the pressure of the social occasion pushed him to take a sip. He coughed as the strong liquid slid down his throat. Duane laughed, sitting relaxed with his feet up on the desk, cigarette hanging from his lower lip. When Marion came over and sat on his lap. Duane pretended to ignore her but Sean could see he loved it. He tried concentrating on his filing, but in vain. The atmosphere turned relaxed, a day of freedom from Mr. Merton.

Then Myra went crazy. Dear, bubbly Myra, not quite obese but pleasantly plump, long dark hair, black eyes, plenty of lipstick, gregarious, and the owner of a loud, sultry voice, she radiated Eau de Toilette and brought fun with her wherever she went.

Marion told Duane, “Put some music on your radio.” When the music started, Myra stepped up on her chair, then onto her desk, revealing high heels and plump legs showing through her sheer hose. She flung her arms above her head, swayed her hips, twirled her short red dress, and sang lustily, her gold bracelets and Star of David earrings swinging in time as Marion and Duane sang and clapped. For Sean, this was a day to remember.

Then the big boss from the main office walked in.

Silence, hung heads, as all returned to work with tails between legs. No one lost their job but the next day Mr. Merton walked into his tiny cubicle, hung up his black overcoat, scarf and umbrella and then addressed his troops. “People, I’m surprised at this behavior. It casts a shadow on my leadership. You embarrassed me in front of my own boss.” He droned on—lack of maturity and professionalism, black marks, etc. Plainly, the big boss had reamed him out and commanded him to castigate his staff. For his part, Sean thought, It was totally worth it!

Sean’s two jobs couldn’t have been more different. The pie filling job had numbed him. The insurance job felt equally mindless but he found himself liking his officemates and felt like he was learning to appreciate people unlike himself. This produced a residual fundamentalist guilt—he remembered St. James’ words, “Love not the world . . .”

Sean’s childhood formation made him critical of people outside of fundamentalism, even people who went to modernist churches. With her behavior, could Myra be an observant Jew? Sean didn’t think so. And Duane—suave, worldly-wise, sophisticated—did “Lutheran” mean he was born again? And were Catholic girls allowed to sit on Lutheran men’s laps? He didn’t think Marion or Duane were real Christians. And how could he share his Christian faith with them if he no longer believed it himself? He frowned and bit his lip. His atheism was growing more and more complicated. And it produced a growing risk for him at TBI.