Where angels dance

The internet is down in my neighborhood for the third time this month, and typing with my phone is excruciating, and so I humbly offer this from the archives from July 27, 2021.

“Write only what you love, and love what you write,” Ray Bradbury wrote.

What would be the point of writing words of hate, or words that don’t speak love, no, shout love? What would be the point of wasting any moment of life on the mean, the small, the spirit-breaking nastiness?

Given a finite time to have any impact on this universe, spend every minute in love, in spirit-lifting, on big ideas, on generosity, on making every moment count for something positive.

Do you see why I do not write of politics if I can avoid it? Oh, I stumble sometimes and snap back at nasty minds, and I point out foolishness when instead I should laugh and turn another cheek, but in my most free moments I soar in love and remember those who lifted me, not those who dragged me into mud to wrestle with demons.

Angels walk among us (most of them on four loving paws), and I love to write about those angels and victory over those demons.

When I write what I love, it’s easier to stay in the glow of that love and dismiss the baser senses, and it’s easier to rest at night knowing I reached for stars where angels dance.

How can I hold onto this thought and speak or write only in love? That may be the biggest challenge of a life — or indeed, of an age.

In which I conclude that our conclusions are never concluded

We measure our days in terms of light and dark, and I prefer spring and summer because I believe people seek the light and thrive in the light. I know a common belief is that human nature is innately dark, but I have not found that to be the case. Those who roam the dark are unhappy creatures who behave contrary to our instinct to survive.

And who am I anyway, that I think my thoughts are important enough to post and share every day? I am no more important than you, who is reading this. All I have to offer are the sum of nearly 73 years of living day by day, and my experience may be totally irrelevant to yours. I have come to certain conclusions about life and the world, but it occurs to me now that “conclusion” is not the greatest word to describe a person’s views about anything.

Saying “This is my conclusion” implies that the process of forming that view has concluded — it’s finished, and my mind will never change again. Wrong! Our “conclusions” are always evolving.

Oh, certain foundational views don’t change much, but I think it’s dangerous most of the time to say “my mind is made up and that’s that.” At least that’s my conclusion at the moment. In a world where more information is accessible at our fingertips all the time, it’s always possible to learn something that will shake up our conclusions all over again.

Random thoughts

I sit on the love seat at noon with Summer, and I know I have a morning full of thoughts, but now that it’s time to write them down, they all escape me.

• I’m not sure if I’m ready for Supergirl as a hung-over party girl. That was the only 10 seconds I didn’t love in the excellent Superman movie last summer.

• I’m thinking of leaving my Christmas decorations up this year, in keeping with Ebenezer Scrooge’s pledge to hold Christmas in his heart always.

• I’m pretty sure “Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol” was my first exposure to Dickens’ immortal tale. The songs by Jule Styne and Bob Merrill — who would collaborate on “Funny Girl” two years later — hold up for me, especially “Ringle Ringle” and “The Lord’s Bright Blessing.” Of course, later I discovered the brilliant Alastair Sim, but my second-favorite “Christmas Carol” continues to be Magoo’s.

• I listened to “Escape/Chase/Saying Goodbye” the other night, and I must say it may be the most joyous music ever written short of Handel or Beethoven. E.T. The Extraterrestrial is a symphony. I have said this many times: people should watch that film again to hear the music. Of all the movies I’ve ever seen, I think the marriage of story and soundtrack in E.T. is as darn near perfect.

• James Stewart’s greatest performance in a lifetime of great performances was as George Bailey. It’s hard to quibble with the selection of Fredric March and The Best Years of Our Lives as Best Actor and Best Picture that year, but Stewart and It’s A Wonderful Life have proven immortal.

No earthly kings in sight

With respect the hopefully peaceful “No Kings” protests planned in the U.S. of A. today:

Of course we have a king, and it’s my joy to honor Him.

Still Circling

Mary and I had a lovely weekend in Wisconsin Dells, where the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band played Saturday night. The NGDB has been on an “All the Good Times Farewell Tour” since last year, so this may have been our last chance to catch the show — although the band will mark its 60^th anniversary in the summer of 2026, so it might be more appropriate to close out then, Lord willing.

I have been a fan since their very first single in 1966, “Buy For Me the Rain,” and I have slowly been becoming more fervent about it over the years. I’ve now attended around eight of their concerts, by far the most I’ve followed any musician.

I have to say I was thrilled at how good they still sound. The older members may show some ever-so-slight signs you might expect from musicians in their seventies, but they keep improving as a cohesive unit, kind of the opposite of what you’d expect from a band after six decades.

Most of the NGDB concerts I’ve seen have been in the last 20 years, and this latest iteration puts on an even better live show than 20 years ago, when they had five members who had contributed to their best recordings.

This latest six-member ensemble is a force to be reckoned with. Depending on how long they extend their farewell, maybe we’ll have a chance to experience them again one of these days.

If you have any interest in Americana, country or bluegrass music, you owe it to yourself to go see the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band when they swing by your neighborhood.

See the World! It’s all connected

Today would be a good day to get a feel for my “See the World! Podcast,” in which I’m reading my upcoming book, See the World!, a chapter at a time.

The reason I say it would be a good day for that: It’s the shortest chapter, so you’ll be in and out in a little over a minute. I’ll even let you read along:

It’s all connected

I want to write more stories.
I want to learn more stories.
I want to write more songs.
I want to learn more songs.
I want to write more books.
I want to read more books.

Like almost all of the book, the thought began life as a blog post. Back on Jan. 12, I wanted to make the point — and I’m pretty sure I did — that if you want to write stories, you should learn other people’s stories and study how they wrote them. Same with songs: If you want to be a songwriter, you should examine other people’s songs and techniques. And if you want to write books, you should read books so you know what a book is.

The podcast is my way of encouraging you to buy the book, of course. My hope is after a few podcast episodes, you’ll want to read ahead. The recording also does double-duty, because eventually I’ll assemble the chapters into an audiobook that will also be out there on the market so you can hear it all at once, without the repetitive intro and outro to each chapter.

See the World! will be available in print-on-demand paperback or ebook starting a week from today, June 10, 2025. My intention, if you’ll pardon me for doing so, is to give you these little tastes of the book every day over this next week, again, to encourage you to pre-order it so it makes a little bit of a splash next Tuesday and booksellers say, “Oh! People are buying this book. This might be a good new one to put on our shelves.”

And so here is Episode 14, the shortest episode of the See the World! Podcast:

May we look to tomorrow with hope

Today we pause to remember those who fought and died in America’s wars.

The best way to honor our war dead is to press for peace always.

As the hymn in one of my favorite Japanese movies goes, “May we live without destruction. May we look to tomorrow with hope. May peace and light return to us.”