WRITING ABOUT WRITING

                                                 

Many times people ask me; how do you find something to write about every week? A good question and not an easy answer. But let me say this. Finding something to write about is easy-- but finding something to write about that people want to read--well that’s another story and maybe this column is an example of that and maybe not-- you’re my judge, not me.

I know a fair amount of writers and I think the one recurring theme that best describes them and me, is this. They tend to be passionate about things and they tend to be emotional people. Having the basic tools when it comes to writing, like expressing yourself on paper, or telling a story is part of it yes but a lot people can do that. I think what may set a good writer apart from the others is how you tell the story. I’m a headline grabber when I read but I also lose interest in stories or articles fast, when the writer hasn’t done her or his job. I suspect I speak for a lot of people. But every once in while you’ll find that one thing, you not only read but also read again. You understood it perfectly the first time but something about the way it was written brought you back once more.

The world is full of stories, some sad, some happy and all of them waiting to be told. A couple of years ago when I lost my wife I brought her story to you. Not that it was unique, a lot of people lose their mates in life but I wanted you to know how I felt at that moment. Maybe it was a pity party of sorts but to all of you who have suffered such losses; we deserve a little pity party don’t we? “Blessed are those who mourn.” Then much later along came a good change, and I wrote about a new special friend who came into my life and turned my frown upside down. A few weeks ago our coffee group lost a good friend and I wrote his wife. I wanted her to know how special he was to us and how much we miss him.  Sometimes there are things out there that just have to be said and I’m the guy that has tried to do it. I have written about how our world has changed over the years and not always for the good. From the comments I get back, there are people, who agree. I have written about the uncertain future our kids and grandkids have and I know there are more people then not that agree with me on that too. Often, they are good kids brought up right, but now bumping up against evil things and having to make hard choices. I have shared my love for the great outdoors and the seasons with you. Talked about this beautiful lake country we call home. Talked about my dog, my faith, my music and family and not necessarily in that order. I’m always hoping that in some way. I can tickle your funny bone or touch your heart.

I have all of my past columns in a folder in my computer and they number three hundred and forty. I am toying with the idea of putting them into a book or at least some of the better ones. Let me know if you think that is a good idea. My hope, in the future, is to always have something to write about. I have a new book that will be ready next year for those of you who like fiction. To those of you who have taken time to write or stop me in my travels and say hi, thank you. To those of you who have read my books-- again thank you.  You always make my day and I feel blessed.

CROSSLAKE

                                                          

I, in my travels, have on more than one occasion run into complete strangers in other states who said. “So you’re from Crosslake Minnesota. They would say,” I once stayed there for a summer,”or “my uncle had a cabin there and we used to go visit him. But one lady in New Mexico told me something I never forgot. “The thing I remember the most about staying in Crosslake,” she said. “Is for me it was an escape from the harshness and realities of life. It was like this little place in the middle of nowhere that seemed to shut out all of the outside interference in your life. It brought you back to your roots and made a nine year old kid out of everybody.” I am seldom at a loss for words but I was that day. I wanted to turn around and go home.

As summer draws to a close my mind drifts back to the all of the things that have taken place here this year. It seems to begin on St Patrick’s Day when the deserted winter streets, often still piled high with snow, fill with hundreds and even thousands of people. An Irish town you say? I hardly think so. It’s more like a town that has been suppressed indoor’s; way to long by winter and St Pats is just an excuse to have a party. So party they do and have for a long time. That day begins a litany of events and celebrations that make those who live here and visit here, build memories that won’t let you forget Crosslake-- even when you live in New Mexico.

I have often wondered how many people, not only fell in love with Crosslake while they were here but also actually fell in love, in Crosslake. Something in the air makes the heart more receptive here. Her or him, whomever they may be, might have always been somewhere in the plans but a summer in Crosslake was just the last piece of the puzzle. The impetus you might say that made it all happen. Maybe it was a time when you were young and beautiful and you seem to not have a worry in the world. Life was free and easy and you knew what was lying out there waiting for you when you left. I firmly believe that in everyone’s life there is a love you will never forget and a summer when it first began.

Then one day the falling leaves and shorter days signaled the beginning of the end. Crisp mornings and fog over the lakes. Restless waterfowl, booming guns and docks pulled up on shore. Abandoned flowerbeds and wilting vegetable gardens lay littered with the spoils of the crop. No more waiting at the intersections in town, just signal and turn. No more waiting in line at the grocery or café. You cross out 2013 on the things to do list and optimistically write 2014.

So now the beaches are deserted and the toys are all put away. Woodpiles are growing in size and motor homes, freshly dusted off and gassed up, piloted by old silver heads, turn their noses south like the birds of the air. It’s a retreat of sorts to a warmer place for old aching bones; driven by people that know in their hearts they will be back. The door that summer opened in Crosslake is slowly closing for now. It was like the ultimate one night stand. Over before you knew it and now just a memory but your grateful just the same. Celia Thaxter said and I quote.. “There shall be eternal summer in the grateful heart.” She must have visited Crosslake.

SAVING MONEY

Being in my seventies, and having kept house for fifty some years, one would think that there would be little I would need in my household that I don’t already have. The word “bargain” as defined in the dictionary is “something that is offered for sale, or barter, at a price much less than it is worth.” It makes no mention of the fact of whether you need it or not. Greed, which is an inherent urge we all put up with at times, overrules common sense and we can’t help ourselves. Hence, we buy crap we don’t need. My wife would buy things at sales and then resell them at her own annual sale—usually for less than she paid for them. How did I feel about that? Let me just say that “don’t ask, don’t tell” doesn’t just apply to the U.S. Armed Forces.

But this year I had a need for a doghouse; one that I could put out on my deck to shelter my dog when I’m gone, and leave her out there. So when one popped up at a flea market, I was quick to purchase it. Two things didn’t work out for me. First thing, I foolishly thought the word “flea market,” was a euphemism for a rummage sale. I never dreamed you could actually buy fleas, which were in the doghouse I bought, and that have since moved to my dog. The second thing that didn’t work out was the dog wouldn’t go in the doghouse. Yes, she did go in long enough to collect the fleas, but I came home in a rainstorm the other day and she was sitting on top of it—in the rain.

My spouse and I used to go coupon shopping, and by the way, I still use coupons for things I will actually eat because I believe she is watching me from up there and I don’t need any trouble if I get there, too. But sometimes she would have a coupon for something like Pickled New Zealand Termite Eggs, and she would buy them because you just can’t ignore a coupon that big, and by the way, it was always about the bottom line at the checkout counter. You know that line on the bottom of your grocery receipt that says you saved more than you spent, but somehow forty-nine dollars managed to disappear out of your billfold and a Philadelphia lawyer couldn’t make heads or tails of that receipt, but she could.

I once bought a shirt at a clothing store, that I can’t name, that was on a 90% off rack; and then got 20% off because it was senior day; and then got another 15% off for using my store credit card. The clerk had to override the cash register because it couldn’t believe what was happening and refused the transaction. I thought they were going to call the cops on me. Anyway, never mind, the shirt is too ugly to wear—but what a bargain, huh? I felt so bad when I got home that I e-mailed all of the clothing factories in Taiwan and apologized. Not even they can work that cheap.

I bought a music CD off a television ad that was $9.99 plus shipping and handling. Conveniently—at least for them they don’t spell out how much shipping and handling is—but I thought, what the heck, how much can it cost to throw that CD in an envelope and snail mail it here to me. Well, it seems that the people in that warehouse in Lakeville, and the good old United States Postal Service, need to talk to that poor seamstress in Taiwan who bought the cloth, sewed me an ugly shirt and shipped it half way around the world, cheaper because the shipping and handling exceeded the cost of the CD. and the shirt. Who knew? Now I do and so do you.