Swig is Just a Repeat of Itself

Photo courtesy of Jerry Hoffman

Swig and Sota are two of the newest drink fads grabbing teenage imaginations. In case, you’re over the age of twelve and out of the loop, both of these drinks are newly manufactured liquid concoctions old timers like me would call a witch’s brew. Back in the day, at my corner drug store, it meant a glass of Coca Cola with a squirt of chocolate, cherry or vanilla syrup mixed in. A decade later, in Sharon’s Wabasha, they called it a suicide drink. Some things never change when it comes to tempting the virgin palate.

Along the same lines, my daughter and I have this ongoing discussion about changing times and opportunities. She believes that Sharon and I had it easier growing up, raising kids, buying our first house and so forth. “Yep, you guys had it easier than my husband and I have had doing the same thing.”

Not so, say I. Different times, yes. Different challenges, yes. Different social-economic-political pressures from both sides to taint and/or coat the equations of differences, yep. But, at its most basic level, not a whole lot has changed over the decades.

Now, I will admit that I have a distinct advantage over my daughter with my own miles traveled. I have earned the education, information and life scars gleamed over a lifetime of living. In turn, that has benefited me with the ability to look back and see remarkable similarities.

We live in a world today that is rift with misinformation and propaganda from both sides of the political aisle. Artificial Information has enhanced the dissemination of information but also spread mistrust and illusion in its wake. For many of us, it can be discouraging at times. Yet, in reality, some things never change. History really does repeat itself.

A quick glance back at historical events paints quite an interesting picture. Every generation thinks it has discovered sex, will end all wars, is the best collection of humanity around and knows more than any other generation. The world of business is one good example of this.

Today’s Wall Street darlings all hype the same mantra; new, innovative, ground-breaking, revolutionary, etc. History tells a different story. The reality is that the world of business is constantly changing, evolving, growing out of date and at the same time being truly innovative. The brightest stars of today could be the relics of tomorrow by this afternoon.

Block Buster once ruled the home video market. Then, upstart Netflix came along with their revolutionary idea of sending DVDs in the mail. Now, Paramount is trying to dislodge that giant of streaming content with its own version of content distribution.

In the 50s and 60s, IBM was ‘it’ in computer technology until a little upstart in Seattle sold them it’s operating system and kept the rights for themselves. Now, Microsoft is competing with other surviving giants in the newest fields of AI (artificial intelligence) and quantum computing.

After World War Two, Sears Robuck, Montgomery Wards and old stewards like the Emporium dominated the retail world. Now Walmart and Target have taken their place and even Target has stumbled recently. Uber and Lyft replaced Yellow Cab. Airbnb edged out Hilton and Marriott in the lodging business.

In historical terms, nothing ever stays the same and whatever goes around, comes around. Time changes everything.  Civilizations are born, grow and die over time. Innovation changes the world and it stays the same. Nations and nationalities become convinced they are the conquering force and then they aren’t.

Japan and Germany went totalitarian in the 1930s, trying to conquer the world. They never did. Japan tried to conquer Vietnam during World War Two and failed. Then the French tried to continue their colonial rule. They couldn’t. The Americans also tried and failed. Afghanistan was no different. First, it was the Russians then the Americans. Neither country was able to dislodge the ethnic, religious and political forces tearing the country apart. Now Israel and America are trying to do the same thing in the Middle East with Iran. See a pattern here?

Education is paramount for Melanie’s children’s advancement as it is for the Colorado cousins. Compared to the standard approach in achieving a college or tradesman degree my generation had to follow, nowadays, educational opportunities mean almost endless possibilities unheard of only a few decades ago.

High schoolers, as well as adult students, are inundated with extracurricular activities of every scope and area of interest. There are AP (advance placement) classes available. Community and Technical Colleges play a critical role in furthering education for those unable or unwilling to follow the four-year traditional approach. On-line educational courses, Adult Ed classes, and correspondence classes can all lead to advanced studies toward a MA and PhD degree. It is no longer a case of one single approach for everyone to follow.

Everything seems fluid except for one reality. There is still hope in age-old values and a common-sense approach to life.  Those basic core values of hard work, determination, common sense, thrifty smart vs stupid cheap, ambition, etc. It’s the same philosophy of life that’s been around forever.

There is nothing new in this category. While ‘Think and Grow Rich’ may have grabbed the reader’s attention in the early thirties, the mythical tale of rags to riches by Horatio Alger had already arrived at the turn of the century. The Sixties and Eighties philosophers followed suit as did Tony Robbins later on.

‘The Basics’ as old school teachers have preached for centuries are still has tried and true as they were back then. Hard to remember with all the distractions around but still as reliable as ever. So, yeah, some things change and some things just come on round back again.

Memories are Made of This

Our parent’s generation had their Brownie cameras, thin airmail letters, and sketchy oral history sessions to collect a lifetime of memories. They had little else to encapsulate their era, decades of living and snippets of generational history. My, how times have changed.

A while back, I was able to escape Minnesota for a week in Palm Springs. It was a respite from the craziness that had become my life over the last six months.  A retreat to the desert was meant to being clarity to my brain and recharge my batteries for the continuing challenges ahead for me as a caregiver back home.

Not surprisingly, my long list of have-to-do projects was pretty quickly set aside for quiet times on the back patio and time to reflect. I made a point to playing catch-up with our neighbors and little touch-up tasks around the house. Most importantly, I made a point of seeing several close friends, one of which was Howard. 

Howard is a wonderful man at ninety-three who has had a good life. We were lunching at the Senior Care Facility where he now lives. Bob, his partner and husband of 54 years, had passed away this fall and Howard was struggling with his new reality of living alone again.

One particular statement he made touched a nerve with me. “All I have left now,” he said “are my memories. I lived the first fifty years in a straight world and then the next forty-four years with Bob.” A smile slowly escaped from his face and it was all good. Despite being almost totally blind now, living in an assisted-living facility, Howard still had his memories to keep him alive. He is keeping busy, reading through an instrument from the Braile Institute and making new friends and, most importantly, cherishing those memories of ninety-three good years well lived.

It was only in her later years that my mother was able to recollect and relish (to some small degree) her life growing up on the farm, the early years working in the Twin Cities as a domestic, then raising two children on her own and finally meeting her second husband and another thirty good years spent with him. Unfortunately, collecting memories weren’t paramount on her mind back then.

Handwritten notes (really scribbles) of her life are now the only tangible thing along with some photographs that she left behind. Her later-in-years recollection of past events were often clouded by old age, memory loss and fractured truths that often didn’t pass the test of reality.

Howard’s comments about holding on to memories brought up an interesting realization. While my parent’s generation wasn’t very big on picture-taking or memoir-writing, my own generation was and is. With the advent of the iPhone, everyone can now be a photographer and able to capture any of life’s moments in an instant.

With Cloud storage and digital capabilities, the total amount collected is almost limitless. The same can be said for data, documents, videos, and any other form of digital-capture. More memories can be captured, created and stored in one day than our forefathers could muster up in a lifetime.

When both my kids did their semester abroad sessions while in college, I was able to capture their experiences on video (now digitized). It’s a visual benchmark upon which their kids can compare their own future explorations abroad. We captured the same precious moments when Sharon’s parents were interviewed about their early years growing up in Nebraska and then Minnesota.

Over the years, I written more than 700 blogs. Each is my own version of a memoir, covering various aspects of my life, interests, failures, success, places I’ve been and dreams I’ve captured. Writing my own obituary and that of Sharon is simply another way, she and I can capture (in our own words) a lifetime of living. For us, memories are made of that.

Loneliness of the Long Distance Writer

There was a great English film that came out in the early Sixties entitled ‘The loneliness of the long-distance runner.’ It was based on a series of short stories by Alan Stilltoe. Essentially it was the story of a poor Nottingham, England teenager from a working-class neighborhood who had bleak prospects in life and few interests beyond petty crime. He turned to long distance running as an antidote as well as an emotional and physical escape from his situation.

I can relate to that as an ex-runner and present-day plodder of the vernacular kind. For many of us, writing is a long-distance journey with no foreseeable finish line in sight. If you want to call yourself a writer and not just someone with a nice hobby then it’s something you must do. Emphasis on the words ‘must do.’

Many successful writers will tell you that only after four or five books, perhaps 500,000 words put down, can you truly consider yourself a real writer. C.J. Lyon says you must follow the ABCs if you want to succeed. ABC – Apply Butt to Chair. In other words, you write and write and then you write some more. Her formula is quite simple. First, write the best book you possibly can. Then you try to find an audience for your work. Finally, you repeat the process all over again. Then perhaps, maybe, with luck and the proper alignment of the stars you just might, ‘just might’ become successful.

I learned a lot from my fellow writers in the Palm Springs Writers Guild especially the women. Many of them have chosen this new profession as their protecting companion, their soul-mate and fellow journey master into the sometimes confusing, trying, stressful but ultimately soul-satisfying world of writing.

Once committed to the journey, writing for us becomes an addiction and obsession like other times in life when you know you’ve entered a whole new phase in your life and you can’t go back to what used to be. You can’t change the past. You simply pick up where you are today. For some of us writing becomes that path not taken. For others it was a life not lived. Now it has become more than just a pen to paper exercise.

So why do people become writers and what are they trying to prove?

For many it’s a high wire mental act that constantly struggles to balance art with reality and story-telling with self-exposure. For many, it is fraught with disappointment, sadness, failure, rejection and the fast-fading possibility of success and satisfaction. We’re all after that book with the long tail; something that resonates with our readers and keeps them coming back for more.

My first toes-in-the-water writing ventures came after my discharge from the service and sojourn to the wilds of hippie heaven on the West Bank of the University. Savran books was my go-to spot for beat poetry, outrageous material from the likes of Allen Ginsberg, and a plethora of mind-expanding journals. It gave birth to my outpouring of poetry and song lyrics that finally saw the light of day some forty years later.

So, why do we keep writing? I’m not sure. It’s certainly not for self-pleasure like…Rocky Road Ice Cream or a long run in the woods. It’s not about the money…there usually isn’t any? I assume for some it is ego-driven. For others, it answers a long-held belief in their story-telling abilities.

For me it was something I’ve always had to do and damn the results. Plain and simple, it’s become a marathon. In every instance, I want to create a mind-picture, an image, a scene or a dream that my readers can enter into. I want to journey with them as together we explore these fictional worlds I’ve created in my mind.

Recently, health issues affecting my wife have curtailed much of my writing for a long period of time. It has certainly magnified the extent to which I’d become addicted to the form, function, creative process and imaginative mind ventures that writing has become to me. So, while others grouse about growing old with their aches and pains, I tend to focus on my fictional characters needs and wants and how I can best tell their life stories.

It is, for all intent and purposes in mind and matter, a long-distance run…with no end in sight.

It’s become something my fellow writers and I have to do. And most of us are crazy enough to believe it just might make a difference in your lives…if it hasn’t already. A long journey with no end in sight and little pleasures along the way.