by Bobby Adair
Anyone who knows Kat knows how persistent she can be—a real pain in the ass, but extremely perceptive. So, I sat down one Friday evening and read book one for the first time since I published it two years ago.
I was shocked. It wasn’t the flaming POS I’d imagined it to be, it was raw, poignant, timely, and entertaining. At least to me it was. That’s when I gave in. Kat got her way.
So here you are, world—Dusty, opinionated, preachy, raw, raunchy, rambling, angry, lonely, and fun.
And if you like it, I’d be eternally grateful for a review if you have a moment.
—Bobby
Foreword to Book 3
See? As promised, Dusty’s Diary 3. And as of the date of publish, Dusty’s Diary 4 is halfway done.
After the last Dusty’s Diary, I was actually excited to continue the story. Except for one thing; a pretty major thing. Right about the time that Dusty’s Diary 2 was released, I had the opportunity to visit Houston—Dusty’s stomping grounds. More importantly, I drove through Houston right about two weeks after the landfall of Hurricane Harvey. Hurricane Irma had already hit Puerto Rico, the US Virgin Islands, and Florida, among others. And then Hurricane Maria walloped Puerto Rico again.
What we saw on TV was something right out of one of my post-apocalyptic books. Vast swaths of Houston were destroyed. In fact, the area of Houston in which Dusty’s Diary takes place had been under water, with rescuers literally riding boats around to find survivors.
One week later, Houston’s streets were covered with piles of furniture, clothing, books, appliances, and toys. The smell of mold was so strong, as we stopped to talk with a family, we could barely stand it. In Dickinson, Texas, near Galveston, we happened upon a closed retail store that became an impromptu collection depot for items damaged beyond repair, and the smell of rotting meat from refrigerators that had been duct-taped closed was unbearable. As Kat and I walked around the piles, we’d notice an occasional photo of smiling children scattered among cribs, dishes, yearbooks, and even a hot tub. It was downright eerie.
It made me realize how we are literally only one natural disaster away from something we believed was unthinkable.
Is there a lesson in all of this? Yes. People have stepped in to help others in need. I learned that there is a group called the “Cajun Navy” where a bunch of guys grab their fishing boats and head out to help. The people we spoke with in Dickinson have a blog where they share information about contractors and the rebuilding process. Others opened their homes to strangers. And there was even a little humor—a video surfaced of some guy chasing a fish in about a foot of water in his living room. We humans are pretty resilient, and in time things will get back to normal. It takes all of us working toward a common goal, and taking care of each other.
—Bobby
Text copyright © 2019, Bobby L. Adair & Beezle Media, LLC
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This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.