Author: Author John G Dyer

Born in Chickamauga, Georgia, John Dyer moved to Asia in 1956, when his father took an engineering assignment with a power utility. He attended grades 1-12 at an international school, touring with his family through 29 countries before settling in the Midwest. A computer scientist turned author of fiction, he is a founder of an IBM-affiliated software company, and an early innovator in electronic commerce. He brings a lifelong interest in science and engineering to everything he writes.

Camera Familia #14 — John Dyer Writes

Manila, Philippines. September, 1957. Everyone in this photo had an extraordinary story to tell. I wouldn’t hear any of those stories until I was older. If they’d worn costumes I would have asked questions, but nobody ever did that at dinner parties.

In 1918, at the age of eighteen, Ty Norton (not present) boarded a ship in San Francisco to take a farm job at a Philippine pineapple plantation. We knew a man who flew with the Flying Tigers in Burma. A few of my parents’ friends were in Manila when the Japanese invaded. A man assigned the postwar task of destroying U.S. military equipment instead diverted jeeps and trucks into the black market. Years later, he was described as something of a gangster, but he didn’t look or act the part. Who would have guessed?

Not me. I was a little kid. Intrepid adventurers. Captains of industry. Deal-makers. Diplomats. Soldiers. Spies. Entrepreneurs. Rascals. Romeos. Workers. Parents. Church-goers. Sophisticates. Philosophers. Artists. Athletes.

It was a variety show, the likes of which I will never see again.

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Camera Familia #13 — John Dyer Writes

Manila, Philippines. 1956. Everyone in this photo has an interesting story to tell. Most, but not all, were foreign nationals and of these, not all from the United States. Many of the parents were in-country on temporary assignments. Others had resided in the Philippines for decades. A few of the families were Philippine citizens, firmly established but not necessarily Filipino.

There were said to be fifty-thousand Americans living in and around Manila when I was there. Military kids typically attended school on base. There were other private schools, including Catholic institutions, teaching classes in English. Mail-order home-school academies were an option. We were not the only world-traveling first graders in town.

At the American School campus near downtown Manila. The chemistry teacher was German. The music teacher was Russian. I was awkward and shy. Pretty much everyone else was swash-buckling.

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To India and Beyond — John Dyer Writes

On Sunday, August 28, I will be an honored guest on Books Charming, India’s Top Book Blog. It’s kind of an accident, arranged by a promotion service, but curiously apt — my Science Fiction books are replete with allusions to South Asian culture. I actually have followers in that part of the world, although I don’t know how it happened.

It’s not as if I posted, “SciFi for readers in India.” or, “Sanskrit spoken here.” or “Look for Devanagari script on the cover of ‘Resilient’.”

The latter may be found below a neon sign, made in the image of a coffee cup. The word is, ‘Kaphi.’

Anyway, I’m running an eBook promotion, starting the same day. The Illusion of Gravity. Free for three days. Sunday, August 28. You might also read the interview, thus motivating you to read the book, which you will get for free, that same day, or for two days thereafter, as stipulated above.

In other news, I’ve been publishing a serial memoir about the expat life, 1950s Philippines and forward. Relative to my other essays, it’s been exceptionally well-received. Check it out.

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Camera Familia #12 — John Dyer Writes

Manila, Philippines. July, 1956. Electric companies are among the largest of all industrial enterprises. The product is manufactured by the Generation division. Delivery is carried out by Transmission and Distribution. Alan Razovsky’s job was Manager of T & D. Draw a box around the power plant. Assign someone to be in charge of everything else. Mission. Apparatus. Logistics. Staffing. The big part. The spread-out part. For workers, the dangerous part.

Linemen were paying the price for inadequate tools. Dad’s assignment was to build out the infrastructure. His personal mission would be to serve the workforce, and in doing so, save their lives. By the end of Dad’s tenure, Meralco would be a reliable power utility, operating with first-class line service equipment and a model safety program. In this photo, Alan Razovsky and his colleagues, about to roll up their sleeves and get it done.

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Camera Familia #11 — John Dyer Writes

Manila, Philippines. June, 1956. My brother Mike was fifteen. He’d been in boarding school since our father died, so I barely knew him. My step-sister Carolyn was fourteen. For her, the arrangement was supposed to be a summer visit. That’s not how it worked out. There was drama involved.

Carolyn says she might have been nervous about the flight if Mike hadn’t been along. Mike reports the flight attendants were good-looking and personable. He remembers Manila International Airport as fancy, ultra-modern.

I met Carolyn for the first time in Manila. I was six, untroubled, with no reason to be otherwise. I showered her with kisses. That’s the kind of days those were for me.

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Camera Familia #10 — John Dyer Writes

Manila, Philippines. March, 1956. San Lorenzo Village was (is) an Ayala Group planned community, established 1954 in the sand flats east of Manila proper. The name of the district, ‘Makati’, is a Tagalog word meaning ‘itchy’. At the time, local leaders explained the symbolism with words like ‘itchy to grow’ and ‘restless’. You didn’t have to drive far to visit historic landmarks, but you couldn’t see them from where we lived.

Our address was 16 Nakpil Street. We had a four-digit phone number. The next-door neighbors were French. The Philippines is a beautiful country. Filipinos are a beautiful people. It was not a hardship post. Far from it.

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Camera Familia #9 — John Dyer Writes

Manila, Philippines. February, 1956. Our first couple of weeks were spent at the Bay View Hotel. Mom snapped a photo from the room. I remember a trundle bed, and an instance of lunch in the restaurant, where I ate frozen dairy for the first time in my life.

I don’t know how long they let me call it ‘Manila ice cream’. Until the novelty wore off, I guess. If my parents were in any way intimidated by the changes going on in our lives, I sure didn’t pick up on it.

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Let’s try a visit to my WordPress home page. Here.

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Camera Familia #8 — John Dyer Writes

Hawaii. February, 1956. Mom, Dad and I traveled to Manila by ourselves, leaving my brother Mike and newly-minted stepsister Carolyn behind to finish their respective school years. We rode Lockheed Constellation aircraft most of the way. During one leg of the trip, we flew into enough turbulence to empty out all the overhead storage compartments. We were over the ocean, a long way from land. It scared everyone onboard.

In San Francisco, we toured a cannery where I consumed fresh-caught tuna on a saltine cracker. It was a taste sensation, burning the moment into a memory I can access even to this day. In Hawaii. Mom and I posed for a photo with our local guide, who I didn’t recognize until recalling how sweet she was.

That was sixty-six years ago. I was six years old. The memories are spotty. Thank goodness for photographs.

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Camera Familia #7 — John Dyer Writes

Flintstone, Georgia. January, 1956. Wedding day on Mountain View Circle, across the road from a cornfield, half a mile from the old sawmill. My mother and newly-inaugurated dad, at the brink of exchanging a safe, familiar life for an uncertain future on the other side of the planet.

The Philippines had been an independent nation for only nine years. In the news, the mountain tribes signed an agreement to end the practice of headhunting. There were things to be apprehensive about.

I was clueless. According to my brother, so was he. Mom and Dad, probably not. In those days, bravery was common.

Dad looks distracted. I wish I knew what he was thinking. At least we have the photograph and a context. It’ll have to be enough.

I write novels. Find them here.

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Camera Familia #6 — John Dyer Writes

The South Pacific. Circa 1944. My natural father, Benjamin Franklin Dyer, served as a signalman in the U.S. Navy during World War II. He was, by all accounts, a prince of a man — but he died in an accident when I was a baby, so I never got to know him.

I did know his youngest brother, John Greene Dyer II, a talented musician, voice coach, and founder of the Chattanooga Girls’ Choir.

I sang for him once. He said, “I agree you’re a baritone, but I don’t think I could make anything out of you.” Nevertheless, a charming and congenial fellow.

According to my birth certificate, I am John Greene Dyer III. My uncle is named after his father. I am named after my grandfather, born after my uncle, and accordingly given the suffix III. I’m pretty sure that’s not how family names are indexed, but nobody said anything at the time, and it’s too late now.

I’m STILL writing novels. Find them here.

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