Taking Homeroom Attendance

The man approached me at my ‘Meet the Author’ presentation last September. He had seen my play ‘Riot at Sage Corner’ a month earlier and quite enjoyed it. Turns out, he was an old classmate of mine that I hadn’t seen in over fifty years. This Cretin Alum had become a fan of my writing too. Now anyone who has read my books and seen my play is a true fan of mine.  

We chatted briefly and he bought several more of my books. It was fun to reminisce, if ever so briefly, about life back in high school. But it was one of his comments that made my day and set the wheels in motion. I owe that fellow a huge debt of gratitude for fueling a fire that became a conflagration of exploding ideas which then morphed into my next play ‘Club 210.’

‘Club 210’ is the result of an over-active imagination force-feeding my head images of a fifty-year high school class reunion. ‘Two Ten’ was my home room back at Cretin High School. During that initial encounter my classmate casually remembered that I was in home room 210 at Cretin while he was in another home room down the hall. By the time the evening was over, ideas were cascading out of my head and on to paper. The story line focused on an eclectic group of individuals who had graduated the same year and all came from the same home room.  It was where they hung out, sang songs and misbehaved. Hence the title: ‘Club Two Ten.’

My own fifty-year class reunion a few years earlier played a big part in churning up the waters of ‘what ever happened to…’ Fifty years had passed and few of my classmates had traversed a straight and narrow and predictable pathway through life. Most of us had experienced some detours, disappointments, surprises, challenges, awesome adventures and wonderful relation-ships. I wanted the same things to happen to my characters in the play. Life events that were, at once, believable, happy, sad, fulfilling, sometimes shocking, longing and soul-satisfying.

As it is evolving through its many draft forms ‘Club 210’ will encompass universal themes such as the challenges of growing old, high school romances, ‘forever friends’ and success and failure at life and love. Ultimately it is a self-examination of what has passed with those folks for a life. If pressed, I would describe the play as a lighthearted drama with some serious moments. Oh, and there’s original music too.

I’m tapping into my memories of the sixties to mix them into a brew of conflicting emotions for my characters. It’s not a nostalgic trip back in time as much as wallpaper for my characters lives back then. That washboard of past laundry will reveal much of the present day lives of my characters. It’s been a fascinating journey thus far. They’re teaching me more about themselves every time we meet at the keyboard.

I also learned a lot from last summer’s production of ‘Riot at Sage Corner.’ That venture provided me with invaluable lessons in the art and craft of play production. Watching the actors perform on stage I was struck by the fact that they had all begun as just a figment of my imagination. I created that old hippie, her sidekicks as well as the rigid and uncompromising Margaret Maple. All those voices heard inside my head so long ago were being repeated by actors mimicking my imagined characters. I hope the very same thing will happen again next summer.

The lessons learned were easy to list and yet hard to define. Last summer I had to learn team work, the idiosyncrasies of small town America, clashing and compromising personalities and life in Community Theater.

There is still a long road ahead. Many more drafts, surgical edits and subtle nuances will be needed to flavor the story line. There will be critical readings by friends and then a cold reading of the entire script by professional actors. All that before it gets back to Minnesota and the real work begins.

It will be a while before the reunion takes place. It’s scheduled for August of this year. You are all cordially invited to attend. It’s going to be a blast.

Ghosting in the First Degree

My Friends and I at a High School dance

It was a bit rough when my high school girlfriend broke up with me. I remember her gentle sentences were laced with serrated edges and trite catch phrases like “we should date other people” and “we can still be friends.” But it was high school and the whole process of ending a relationship was new to both of us.

When my college girlfriend broke up with me it was a straight forward surgical cut. “It’s time for both of us to move on with our lives and the best of luck to you.” Short, clean, and honest.

Twin Cities Public Television TPT Building

When I got fired for the first and only time my boss sat me down and simply said “This isn’t working out.” I was out of a job but at least I got to my executioner.

Over the years, I’ve had a few friendships that started out promising enough but then the other party decided to end it with a constant series of excuses that finally convinced me we were no longer salon companions. It wasn’t an honest way of ending our friendship but at least I (finally) got the point.

Breaking up is never easy to do. But at least in the past most folks had the curtesy to speak their mind face to face or by the telephone. Nowadays some people have taken to ghosting. I guess it’s easier and requires less conscience then the old fashion way of facing reality.

I first heard of ghosting when Charlize Theron dumped her then boyfriend Sean Penn by simply disappearing from his life. Apparently it’s rampant among millennials. Statistics show that nearly 80% of millennials have experienced it. Along with new age Tinder and Snapchat, ghosting comes with the territory.  It’s one of the paradoxes of the new fast-paced digital dating culture.

If I were polite I’d agree with the argument that those folks are simply avoiders. They probably avoid any kind of confrontation at all costs. They certainly don’t want to deal with their own uncomfortable feelings. A quote I read says it all: ‘The emotion maturity that comes with giving the person you’re dealing with an ounce of common courtesy is not in their emotional vocabulary or repertoire.’ Well spoken.

Palm Springs Writers Expo

Since I started spending more time out west that old ghost of relationships gone south has raised its familiar head again. I am always seeking out opportunities where I can use my writing or speaking skills. Some proposals are met with silence while others are warmly embraced if the details can be worked out…at least at first.

What is onerous, yet unspoken, to some folks is the fact that I don’t spend twelve months in either place. For some of these potential partners that is a deal breaker. Yet it’s never explained that way. I try to be upfront about my love for both states and concentrated focus when I’m in either.  Yet for some people it’s either all the time or not at all.

Recently I was ghosted. It was nothing as dramatic as a termination of employment or cancellation of a contract. The group I was dealing with simply refused to answer my e-mails requesting a meeting to clarify where the group was heading. They do great work and it would have been wonderful to work with them on future projects. For reasons still unknown or understood by me they decided otherwise.

I scanned the newspapers. Yep, they were still in business. I reviewed their web site. Yep, they were still doing great work. So, they were still around…just not on my radar.

Of course, there are a dozen reasons why partnerships, joint ventures and other assorted collaborations come to an end. Members of the venture may have changed their mind about goals and objectives. Perhaps this particular joint venture no longer fit their criteria. There could have been a time shift or time crunch for future productions. Their production objectives may have changed and no longer fit my qualifications. The possible reasons are many and varied and probably legitimate.  Any and all were probably sound reasons for ending (what I thought was) a budding artistic relationship.

“It’s so Hollywood” my Palm Springs friends have told me even as I tried to explain that some of these past ventures were with Minnesota folks. “Minnesota Nice” and all that I argued but to no avail. Perhaps they’ve taken the refrain that my old boss used to recite whenever given the chance. “It’s just business” he said when he fired me. He got canned six months later and I’ve always wonder if he thought of that same trite phrase when it happened to him.

Perhaps it has been a good lesson for me. People with no spine always try to dodge the bullet but usually shoot themselves in the foot or blame the other party for their predicament. If they didn’t have the courage to tell me face to face that ‘it was over’ I doubt our joint ventures would have ended well.

At least my old girlfriends (bless their hearts) had more class than that.

Old Before Their Time

At my 50^th reunion, I was struck by the fact that some of my old classmates had changed a lot physically while others looked pretty much the same as they did in back in high school. That, I understood, was just the luck of the draw, parental genes passed down and perhaps a chosen lifestyle that focused on healthy living.

After an absence of fifty years that room was filled with strangers with whom I had little to nothing in common except the same graduation date. Of course, over the evening hours, we shared our life’s war stories, pictures of our grandkids, and fragmented and sometimes fractured memories of time spent in the classroom or on the drill field.

Aside from changes in their physical looks many of my classmates remained the same in their personality, outlook, and mindset. Their political views were probably a lot more defined. Fifty years had spelled out a lifetime of career choices, kids, grandkids, love found and lost and our new shared reality of growing old.

  

What I wasn’t able to access in that brief well-orchestrated evening was how mentally old some of my classmates had grown. We were all roughly 68 or 69 years old…chronologically. But I was curious how old they had grown in their outlook on life. Over the evening and numerous conversations, I began to ask myself ‘what happened to some of those mindsets that they had calcified so rapidly?’

At some point all of us face that long slow slide toward the end. Aches and pains, memory loss, lack of interest in…and lower levels of tolerance are all part of the game of life. But from my observation, some of those folks seemed to be aging much faster than others.

For some older folks, it’s the fear of dying and what lies beyond the funeral hymns. For others it might be unhappiness in their past career or their goals and aspirations not being met. Growing old before one’s time has nothing to do with income levels, life experiences, upbring or a myriad of other cultural, religious or family events. So what is it that causes some folks to shut down on life and only focus on the negative and mundane?

“Men especially seem to be susceptible to this mindset. For grumpy old men, there is no such thing as the golden years. While older women enjoy strong social ties with friends, family and their local communities, some men tend to turn inwards.

Masculinity continues to cloud these men’s experiences and activities in later life. Most men regard women as the keepers of friendships and contacts. Left alone to their own devices, many of those same men fall into the routine trap of seeking solace among like-minded souls.1

I’ve waxed philosophically before (perhaps too often) about the ‘old men in the coffee shop.’ You can find them every morning someplace in town, gathered around the table and rehashing world events. It’s Monday morning quarterbacking, complaining about politics, the government, the weather, social services, youth, money, rich people and anyone not white or speaking English.

 ‘Aging successfully must include good mental health which is very much interconnected with physical health. The aging process itself does not normally cause sudden intellectual or emotional changes. ‘Coping with all the changes of aging can be difficult, but it can be done in a healthy way. The keys to coping include your long-term lifestyle, your ability to expect and plan for change, the strength of your relationships with family and friends, and your willingness to stay interested in and involved with life.”2

So how does one keep an upbeat and yet realistic outlook on life? Certainly I’m no expert. I’m still muddling my way through daily writing, exercise, friendships, travels and new avenues to explore. But I think I’ve gleamed a bit of wisdom from my own experiences and observing those of others.

First, I think you have to accept reality. You’re not as strong, youthful or resilient as you once were. That doesn’t mean you can’t be as alive as the next person. Mindset is everything. Sometimes life sucks…plain and simple. It isn’t always fair or equitable or works out right. Bad things happen to good people and sometimes those others get away from any discomfort in their lives. ‘So be it.’ Move on with your life.

Moving your bones on a daily basis and jump-starting your mind at the same time can only help. Stay current on local and national affairs and don’t compare it to ‘the good old days.’ Be open to change. Plant your feet firmly in today but still let your mind return to those days of yesteryear when all women were beautiful, men were strong and children looked up to their heroes.

As Leonard Cohen said: “There are heroes in the seaweed.”

We just have to find them there.

Points taken from an article entitled: 

1. “Men Growing Old Grumpily” by Steve Dought, Daily Mail.

2.  HealthGuide.org

Phoenician Day Traders

They’re modern day voyagers. Like those ancient Phoenician seafaring explorers these folks are searching for that holiest of holy; the grail of a life well-lived and a glimpse of eternal satisfaction. They’re living their lives in search of that as-yet unknown person they want to morph into while always keeping their possibilities open.

I didn’t have my own ‘ah-ha’ moment until recently. But the more I thought about it the more convinced I am that these folks have found their fountain of youth...or are well traveled in their journey toward it. While summering away from the Coachella Valley I miss their interest in the arts, their dedication to the craft of writing, and a willingness to exchange ideas and storylines. Yet it is their focus on improving themselves and honing whatever talent they might have that I applaud the most. Embracing life with its endless possibilities is what it’s all about.

In the land of tailored green space and the infamous cocktail hour these folks have found an oasis of creativity and a youthful elixir to stymie the aging process. It’s a continuing quest to explore one’s world, one’s mind and one’s soul. None of them are resting on their laurels and there are plenty of laurels to go around. They’re an interesting breed of folks; trading each day for a better one tomorrow. Always seeking, always searching, and always opening themselves up to new experiences. In one past blog I labeled them my den of thieves. Today I would label them modern-day Phoenician Day Traders.

Like those merchants of old, these captains of personal commerce are willing to trade their daily lives for the unknown. They’ve adapted that ancient 2000 year-old Chinese philosophy which espouses breaking comfortable patterns of behavior for the sheer terror of new experiences. *

Humans are, by their very nature, messy creatures, full of contradictions and anxieties, petty jealousies, complicated feelings, ambitions, hopes, longings, and fears. Our lives are composed almost entirely of the relationships we have with those around us. So, not surprisingly, we fall into predictable patterns of behavior.

But when we define who we are, we are all too often labeling ourselves according to these passive patterns, unhealthy ruts, and automatic rote reactions. The more a person consciously engages in such moments, the more he or she trains themselves not to always act true to themselves, in order to behave better.

By focusing on what a person is good at, they end up inadvertently doing something else, that is, they train themselves to cut out other things that could lead them in all sorts of unprecedented, unpredictable directions. In short, they are playing it safe and closing off opportunities for new experiences.

Meet the Author Presentation

Chinese philosophy would encourage us to pay attention to interests we have no time for or to choose experiences precisely because they are not what or who we see ourselves as. The whole point here is to get into the habit of expanding one’s perspective and expanding our life experiences. In short, trading each day for a newer experience than the last one. As you cultivate the ability to break from yourself, you will continue to grow and change.

Writers are, by their very nature and genetic makeup, thieves. They steal snatches of conver-sations everywhere they go. In their minds eye, they paint a tapestry of scenarios happening all around them and store that material in their memory bank. They grasp fleeting emotions that they’ve have seen, felt, heard or observed. They peruse life swirling around them with a relish and create their own life stories about people they don’t even know. They abscond with the memories of relatives, parents, friends, lovers, associates and all kinds of fleeting friendships. They are chameleons and that proverbial fly on the wall.

It’s different from the Paris crowd that gathered around Hemingway’s table for drinks and song. It’s different from Ginsberg’s eccentric group that gathered most San Francisco evenings for a salon laced along the ragged edges of drugs, sex and booze. Or my own Snow White and the Seven Seekers all gathered around a breakfast table in Brussels, exchanging cigarettes, small talk and grand expectations for the life ahead. This is a more subtle crowd that does most of its exploration alone or in small hunter-gatherer groups. They are literary-bound wanderers seeking answers instead of redemption.

Desert Writers Expo

Paramount in my quest for learning from these modern day Phoenician Day Traders will be groups like the Palm Springs Writers Guild, the Senior Theater group in Rosemount and the Desert Writers Expo. There are a ton of very talented folks in Minnesota and California. Not just retirees from the west coast or ex-pats from the east coast. There are also a lot of skill wordsmiths and artistic craftsmen from all over the country who have found a safe and comfortable haven in our community here. There are playwrights to stage a meeting and songwriters to share a chorus with.

They’re all this wonderful diverse eclectic crowd of artists who might be seen as a bit strange anyplace else but are right at home here in the desert. Musicians, song-writers, novelists, screen writers and playwrights that I want to hang out with. Like those ancient ones, they are all seekers.

Philosopher Carl Jung captured it best...

“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.”

I’m still trying to figure that one out but having a wonderful time getting there.

*Many of the comments on Chinese philosophy were taken from an article by Michael Puett entitled: “Philosophers can teach us about the Good Life.”

A Season of Altered Reality

Fifteen years of trekking to Palm Springs has produced a humanistic cauldron of changing venues and evolving life styles for my wife and me. Yet through this gradual evolution from several visits per year to seasonal occupation there was always a comfortable continuity to life here. Desert living had become a comfortable alternative to winters sequestered in Minnesota. There was comfort in continuity…until now.

Not a lot of folks have the opportunity to flit back and forth between two distinctive life styles, renewing acquaintances with friends from around the country and enjoying two distinct and different environments as the seasons ebb and flow. So complaining about a less than perfect season might sound more than a little disingenuous to the average person. I get it and I agree.

There really doesn’t seem to be a lot to complain about when one’s fractured season is less than most others could hope for. But this season wasn’t like all the others and while I’m not complaining…just explaining… the reality is that the old cliché about nothing ever stays the same played out this season like a bad hand of cards.

Our kids and grandkids were out here for Thanksgiving. It’s always fun, exciting, intense and fulfilling when they’re here. Did I also mention exhausting? But after they left things started to go south as compared to other seasons.

Unlike past seasons where familiar routines fell into place and the old organizations remained stoic and unmoved, this year it was different. The Writers Niche, a very comfortable collection of fellow writers who met twice a month, had been disbanded. My friend who was teaching a writing class in town decided to fold up shop. The Palm Springs Writers Guild hadn’t found anyone to spearhead the Desert Writers Expo this year so that also died a quiet death. Writing became a solitary exercise except for the occasional coffee-up with some fellow writers.

Sharon’s mom had passed away three weeks before we left for Palm Springs. Then a friend who had been sick with a terminal illness passed away in November. Shortly after that a family member unexpectedly passed away. We went back to Minnesota early and stayed longer than expected.

The changes, some subtle, some overt continued. Balloon wrangling for the annual Christmas lights parade turned out to be an exercise in exhaustion with an over-active team leader. Our gym downtown had closed and we were forced to find other accommodations. The weather all season was about ten degrees cooler than normal. My plans to hike the Lykken Trail and then graduate to harder climbs was derailed by leg injuries and other commitments. We weren’t able to go on the Desert Horticultural Tour this year nor the Walk of the Inns.

Remodeling projects around the house produced a chorus of weekly chaos that disrupted my normal writing routine. A new HVAC system installed in the middle of winter produced some chilly nights.

Overall it was par for the course. It was a season of change, of a cessation of changing venues and evolving priorities on the part of other people, institutions and events. Yet despite the challenges of a disruptive work schedule I/we managed to find some semblance of order in the chaos.

I started to bike to the Saguaro Hotel to work out in their gym. I discovered several new trails to hike and found a new spot to meditate in the mountains. My renewed attempts at play writing seemed to find success back home. ‘Apache Death Wind;’ a trilogy was published. ‘Debris; a trilogy was being edited.

We got to tour some new spots in the area like Salvation Mountain, Slab City, and San Juan Capistrano and along the Pacific Coast Highway. We visited the Annenberg estate and took a windmill tour. We sought and found a new semblance of order in that chaos of change and the façade of Palm Springs forced us to look anew at our lives there.

A season of altered reality produced a new perspective for life in the desert. It also reminded me of just how lucky we are to live the life we do.

Authentic Self

If we can get past our ego’s definition of who we are it can be an enlightening experience. Visiting our authentic self for the first time is like meeting a perfect stranger that you’ve known all of your life.

But to get there you have to push beyond those influences that up until now have defined who you think you are. Past life experiences, relationships, loves, losses and a wide assortment of pivotal life-altering events that have all conspired to shape a personal vision of yourself in your head. 

You’ve spent a lifetime painting your skin like a canvas of who you think you are. It’s a personal journey of ego, attitude, needs, desires, fears and wants. But in your quest for satisfaction in life you’ve inadvertently let outside influences shape and define your true self.

St. Louis Grade School

There’s been collateral damage suffered and you didn’t even know it. It came from those youthful messages imparted on you by parents, teachers, lovers and friends. Everyone who thought they knew who you were, what you were and what you should become in life. It was everyone who made promises that couldn’t be kept. Everyone who envisioned your future fulfilled but didn’t have their own stuff together yet. Anyone and everyone who slipped into your life, touched you if just for a moment in time then disappeared into that vast emptiness called past relationships. It was a self-image you’ve dragged along through life until something or someone challenged it.

That something for me was a new focus on writing after a lifetime of working in fields I loved. It was finding even more fulfillment in writing than I had in running marathons, long distance bike rides, walking in the rain, getting lost in a forest, running trails until I wanted to drop, climbing a mountain and gasping for air until I thought I was going to pass out. Those were/are satisfying experiences but none compared to holding that first published book in my hands and saying ‘damn, I did it.’

Part of that organic process of writing was a new demand for more self-examination and thoughtful-processing of past lives I’ve lived, my present environment and level of personal satisfaction.

It demanded a closer examination of past relationships and my reaction to life events. It forced me out of old reflections, memories and explanations and gradually wiped away the dust and dirt of past assumptions to revealed a truer self. My research and writing took me on a journey I am only now beginning to better understand and appreciate. It is all about answering the question of who I was back then and how it made me who I am today.

Helping me along the way is a daily detour I take to check-in inside my head. This practice is a monastic exercise but one with benefits. It’s finally coming face to face with the true me. Mind you I can’t say I know me that well even though it’s been over seventy-two years of living in this skin.

The latest catch-phrase is mindfulness even though it’s been around for many years. It’s an exercise that seems pretty simple on the surface but can be very powerful on one’s psyche.*

1.      Begin with a comfortable seated position. Take five or more deep inhalations and exhalations.

2.      Make yourself aware of your breathing, allowing your breath to be as natural and relaxed as possible.

3.      Using the mantra ‘I am’ continue your breathing in a slow and rhythmic fashion. Make it organic, natural, comfortable and effortless. Focus on ‘being one with yourself’ and not the ‘doing’ of the exercise.

4.      As your mind quiets, begin to drop in the question, “Who am I?” If words or emotions arise, allow them to be there. You are not looking for an answer but rather an awareness of self.

5.      This opening into awareness may last only seconds but with repeated sessions it will begin to reveal itself more and more.

*Parts of this exercise were taken from an article entitled ‘Check Your Head’ by Sally Kempton in Yoga Magazine.

It’s a journey I intend to follow for the rest of my life. A trek backwards that might help propel me forward with clarity and vision of who I really am.