Category: Writing

Still not done

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Six months after Carol Jean crossed to the next plane of existence, I felt a surge of emotion — grief, yes; anger, no, more frustration; determination, yes; and hope.

I poured it all into a poem that proclaimed I had sustained the worst body blow a man can take and emerged shaken, but not defeated. The emotion felt so stark that I took a selfie and drained all of the color from the picture as I shared the poem.

 I’m not done.
I still have things to say.
I don’t know what they are,
And I don’t know how I’ll say them,
But sure as I feel, I feel that
I’m not done.

I’m still here.
I didn’t want to lose you,
And I’m not the same without you,
But there has to be a reason
I’m still here.

Let’s find out
What those things I have to say are
And the reason to go on is.
Let’s find out.

Not long afterward, I set the poem to music, and when I recorded the song for my first album in 15 years, New Dog Old Tricks, I added two things—a sixties-style “psychedelic” passage in the middle, and a different opening and closing line when I reprised the first verse: “God’s not done.”

I don’t think any creative people are done until their earthly vessel finally gives out. Oh, and have I mentioned my belief that all of us are creative people?

And our influence doesn’t necessarily end then, either. How many of us have found an old card or letter — or a bit of arts and crafts — from a lost loved one and been moved all over again?

If you’ve checked out the latest album by Willie Nelson, Paul McCartney, or Bob Dylan, you know that it’s true. When I was a little kid, I wrote a silly song called “Never Say Die Until You’re Dead.” Pretty good advice for a little kid.

If you think you’re too old, or your time has passed, or opportunity is lost, think again. You’re not done, either.

Reset button

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I have been retired, for the most part, for 15 months. I still do about 10 hours weekly of clerical work for the last day job. Actually, I never had a “day job”; pretty much every job I ever had required working nights and/or weekends. And come to think of it, I haven’t worked a regular 40-hour week in 10 years.

When my position was eliminated (“Nothing personal, it’s a financial decision”), it was my full intention to work for myself from that moment on. I declared myself a full-time author and started an online “newspaper” for the local news desert southeast of my home. After four months a paper on the other side of the bay decided to recruit me for their open editor’s job, and they were so eager to fill the position that they agreed to let me work 28 hours a week so that I could maintain my online newspaper on the side.

Truth be told, my side hustles never brought in enough revenue to pay the bills. Social Security and the 28-hour job kept the lights on. But I really enjoyed the four-ish years that the online news site survived. I was filling a void and making my own way.

I was also stalling. If I really wanted to be a full-time author when I grew up, taking on two news-gathering jobs was an excuse not to grow up. 

I retired 50 years to the day after I started my first full-time job. For these past 15 months, technically, I have been what I wanted to be when I grew up: A full-time author, with a part-time clerical job to help with groceries. Funny thing about growing up: It seems I don’t wanna.

Monday always has been a good day for a reset, and I write this Sunday evening with my finger poised over that button. Will this be the week that I finally start being a full-time author in practice as well as in theory? The fact that I wrote it as a question, not as a declaration, is telling.

I know me. And if you’ve followed this blog, you know me, too. I’ve made declarations before. The first time I declared I was going to become a full-time author, the goal was my birthday in March 1990. I’m currently two-thirds through a novel that I once declared I would publish by the end of 2021. And so I’m going to leave it as a question and not a declaration like, “Yes! From this day forward I am a full-time author!”

But keep an eye on me for me, please. Feel free to ask how my new book or next album is coming, as politely or as rudely as you wish. You don’t even have to be interested in reading or listening to them; just receiving the question will motivate me. At least I hope it does.

Being accountable to someone is a good motivation. I’m planning to have a spaghetti dinner at Mary’s house this afternoon, and my goal is to read her what I’ve written today. That seems to be a good way to reset my brain and motivate me; we’ll see how that works.

If pressing the reset button does work, and the good Lord willing, from this day forward I will be an actual full-time author. The thought both excites and frightens me.

Another Players triumph

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I wish we had gone to see “Ring of Fire: The Music of Johnny Cash” a little earlier, so I could shout from the rooftops that you should see this show, because by the time this post appears there will only be two performances left, and at least one of them was already sold out when I bought our tickets for Thursday night’s performance. The good news is that means they didn’t need my help to spread the word about how excellent this show is.

I have always loved coming to Peninsula Players, the professional summer troupe that stages five shows every season along the shores of Green Bay just south of Fish Creek. I consider it the premier event in a county that is full of amazing productions every summer. This was the first time Mary and I went there together, and it just may be the best show I’ve ever seen at the Theatre in the Garden.

Five actor/musicians — Joe Casey, Aja Alcazar, Trevor Lindley Craft, James David Larson, and Paul Wyatt — tell the story of the Man in Black through his songs, seamlessly trading instruments and roles in a dazzling display of fivefold virtuosity. I wish I could see it again. In the future when we meet someone else who caught a performance, we will exchange a smile and a knowing glance that we experienced something special.

Highlights: In “Daddy Sang Bass” the performers took turns playing the instruments and singing parts, each showing their prowess on guitar, bass, mandolin and banjo without dropping a note anywhere.

I got goosebumps during “Delia’s Gone,” a solo performance with Larson alone in the spotlight wrenching every bit of pathos and humor from one of Cash’s creepiest songs, and with Alcazar’s mournful wail in “Sweet Bye and Bye,” the song that marked the death of Cash’s 14-year-old brother. As the only woman in the cast, she had to represent Cash’s mother, first wife, and second wife June Carter through the course of the evening, and she pulls it off admirably.

The players unveil “Moon Over Buffalo” on Wednesday, playing through Sept. 6, and then “Murder Girl” Sept. 9 through Oct. 18. Find the details at peninsulaplayers.com.