Tag: dailyprompt

I Should Have Started Earlier

What’s the one thing in life you wish you would have started earlier?

This….this writing, this blogging thing I occasionally do. Now to be fair blogging didn’t exist all my life. I did some research and discovered that a college student started blogging in 1994, and the term weblog was coined in 1997 which was then shortened to blog in April of 1999. This very website, WordPress, was launched in 2003.

I didn’t start this blog until 2017 which I’m sure meant that I had missed the heyday of blogging. In fact I’m sure by the time I started blogging it was probably considered an ancient form of communication much like drawings on cave walls. If so it is certainly not the first time I wildly mistimed a trend. Today people make videos posting their entire life on Tiktok, Instagram and Facebook. People who I’ve told that I write a blog look at me quizzically as if asking… “is that still a thing, how quaint, ok boomer you go ahead and keep blogging.”

Even my wife, who by the way never reads my blog, will occasionally ask if anybody reads this. I reply that I have a few loyal readers and anyhow it’s not really for a mass audience but it’s more for me to write and express.

I always enjoyed writing, perhaps it started in school where I much preferred to write than to stand in front of a class and deliver some type of speech. Every time I was required to do any form of public speaking it was a terrifying experience involving heavy sweating, butterflies, tightening of the throat and a general feeling of I wish there was anywhere else I could be. But writing, ah that was different. I could write and most importantly edit and rewrite sometimes to my detriment, until I was satisfied with the outcome.

I just wished I had done some more writing in my younger days. Sure I wrote in high school but I never wrote for the school paper or yearbook, and in college I did a lot of writing but that’s different from creative writing, although I did take a creative writing class in college and enjoyed the process of being given a topic and then writing about it. I remember the teacher remarking to me that it seemed easy to me this writing thing. She was a grad assistant so perhaps I didn’t take her seriously or perhaps I saw no future in writing, it was the 80’s and everyone was in business school.

I often wonder if I should have pursed writing as a career as a reporter but I generally think I ended up right where I should be and anyhow the demise of newspapers and magazines has certainly ended or upended a lot of careers of journalist.

I’m grateful for this platform that allows me to blog anytime about anything, and I’m even more grateful for the few people that encouraged me when I first started and actually read my blog after all these years.

I may always be years behind the latest trend but I certainly have found something I enjoy. Still sometimes I think maybe I should start a Podcast….the world could certainly use another one of those…amiright?

Peace and love,

John

If it’s good does it matter how long it is?

What’s the longest book you have read?

I actually don’t know the length of the longest book I’ve ever read. Although I keep track of each book I read I don’t track pages read. It doesn’t really seem that relevant.

There have been times when I’ll get half way through a book and I’ll look to the last pages to see how far I still have to go. This can even happen with a good book. I was just reading an autobiography which was very interesting and illuminating, but it was starting to drag a bit in the middle and I started looking at page numbers as if silently clicking them off with each turn of the page.

I wonder if this is also because of always being attached to our phones and mindlessly scrolling and consuming short form video. Has it become more difficult to sit down and read for an extended length of time. While reading I’ll find myself glancing to my phone, wondering what’s new, who’s doing what and why. Are we becoming a culture of observing, watching as others do things instead of reading and thinking.

I was at my Mom’s last week and I happened to be glancing through her bookcase absentmindedly looking for a new book to read. She had an old worn copy of War and Peace. I asked her if she had ever read it and to my surprise she said she had. My Mom reads but I never suspected she had read a lengthy novel of Russian history. My Dad I could picture him reading it and probably enjoying it. She encouraged me to take it but I declined saying I was looking for something a little more lighthearted than that. I also remarked that it seemed like a good book to read during the winter holed up in front of a fireplace as the wind whips around outside.

I’m currently reading what I would describe as a drugstore paperback. It’s an old timey murder mystery set in the 1920’s. It has that mystery noir feeling to it of backrooms, cigar smoke, treachery, double crosses, baseball and an old girlfriend who shows up unexpectedly. I’m only halfway through it but I’m betting the dame is mixed up in it somehow. I was hoping the old girlfriend might be variously described as a broad, skirt, doll or even a gal, but alas those terms haven’t been used and in that respect the book is a slight disappointment.

I once tried reading Moby Dick one summer. It was when I was in college and I figured I should read one of the classics on summer break. I have no idea how I came to choose Moby Dick besides knowing it was considered a classic and had all these existential themes of man’s journey, his perseverance and commitment. I don’t actually know if those themes are relevant to Moby Dick or not because I never even made it through one chapter. I remember reading the first couple of pages….there’s a guy named Ishmael, he wants to get on a whaling vessel and then I fell asleep. Odd I remember thinking, I never fall asleep reading especially back then when I was young and could stay up all night. A few nights later I tried again….there’s a guy who wants to be called Ishmael, he wants to get on a whaling vessel and then I fell asleep.

Obviously I never made it through Moby Dick that summer. It sat on my desk for weeks untouched after those first few attempts and finally I returned it to the library before I was charged a late fee. I do remember thinking thank god I didn’t buy the damned thing.

Perhaps I’ll attempt to read Moby Dick again or War and Peace or some other great Russian novel. I do love the movie Dr. Zhivago so the book must also be good. Dr. Zhivago is another book that seems appropriate to read during the darkest, coldest months of the year.

Until then I’ll continue with my mystery noir wondering how the broad, the dame, the skirt is going to double cross the main character. Perhaps that’s what Moby Dick is really missing, a skirt that comes back to torment Ishmael or maybe a broad is the real reason Captain Ahab chases the whale….. nothing beats a broad who’s been scorned and has trust issues.

Peace and Love,

John

Are You Listening

If your pet could talk what would be the first thing it says?

Ironically my wife and I just adopted a cat from a rescue agency. This actually came as quite a surprise…well a surprise to me. You see I thought we were done with pets. We had a cat and dog, they didn’t like each other and never became friends like you see in those cute videos of dogs and cats napping together. The dog would chase the cat if he saw her so the basement became her safe space and after the dog would go to bed she would creep up the stairs and sit in front of the wood stove luxuriating in the heat and stillness. When they both passed away within a couple of years of each other we got new carpet and re-painted everything and I thought for sure my wife was through with pet ownership.

So in yet another example of a husband never really knowing what his wife is thinking, my wife suddenly announced a couple of weeks ago that we should adopt a cat from a rescue agency. Surprise was my reaction or more likely shocked as my wife is a self described “dog person.” She came to love our first cat but getting a cat wasn’t her first choice, so getting a cat now was yes definitely a surprise.

Like most rescue pets this cat has had a difficult past. Despite being 4 years old its very small and scrawny barely weighing 7 pounds. It’s also very skittish, it doesn’t like to be picked up or held, it doesn’t purr and it rarely meows. We hope it settles into our home and becomes comfortable as it realizes that we plan to keep her.

She’s still exploring the house and finding favorite places to sit. She fits easily into window sills so as long as the weather remains warm she seems to like to lounge there. Her cat tower is a favorite napping place but she also just flops down on the floor and lays peacefully.

Previous pets we’ve had loved treats and would sit by the pantry door silently, or sometimes not so silently, demanding immediate attention to their obvious lack of treats. So far this cat doesn’t seem to be interested in treats, perhaps she will as she grows more comfortable or perhaps her disregard for our treats is an indictment of the treat itself. Cats are notoriously picky and maybe are treats are too sub-standard for her. We may have to up our treat game.

She seems to eat well and we think her scrawny condition might have been because she was one of many cats in her previous house and perhaps by the time she got to the bowl of food there was hardly any left.

We’ve yet to name her but she seems unbothered by this. She was called both Winnie and Potato Chip by previous owners. Since she’s many shades of dark brown I was thinking Coco would be appropriate but my wife is lukewarm to that.

She sleeps, she eats, she plays….she’s well on her way to living a normal cat life and if she could talk I would think perhaps she simply might say “Thanks” for finding me and giving me some normalcy and a home.

Treat you pets with love and kindness,

John

Of All The….

I’ve always liked the movie Casablanca, which is kinda odd since I don’t especially get into old movies especially black & white movies from long ago. But there is something romantic about Casablanca….just saying it conjures up images.

The World War 2 classic tells the story of refugees from war ravaged Europe finding their way to Casablanca in hopes of securing a flight to freedom and eventually the United States. Everyone appears to be trying to leave Casablanca except Rick who seems quite happy running the most popular bar in the city. Everything seems fine with Rick, he let’s the police chief win at roulette, he looks the other way when certain activities happen in his bar and he seems unbothered by the larger world around him….until she walks in.

The stunningly attractive Ilsa and Rick had a past relationship which the memory of comes crashing back to Rick the moment he sees her. Later as he drinks the night away and laments her arrival he utters ruefully…..

“of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.”

Perfect, absolutely perfect….

Who amongst us hasn’t felt that pain when an old love reemerges with a new companion. Rick had hoped that disappearing to Casablanca would shield him from ever having to see her again, but old loves never really go away.

The heartache, the pain, the feelings of abandonment are always just beneath the surface. Rick eventually handles it admirably and I’m quite sure I’ll never run into an old lover in my small Michigan town but I’ve always wanted to be half into a bottle of booze and mutter the line about gin joints, old lovers and fateful meetings.

Peace and Love,

John

The Times They Are…..

I recently saw the Bob Dylan biopic “A Complete Unknown” Yes, I know it came out a couple of years ago and despite my interest in seeing it at the theater it came and went in my small town before I got there.

And so it was with great delight that I happened to be mindlessly flipping TV channels and somehow stumbled across it. I didn’t catch the very beginning but I certainly didn’t miss much. When I tuned in Bob was in New York in the 60’s playing his guitar and beginning to make a name for himself.

Now I must admit I never grew up as a Dylan fan. As a child of the 70’s & 80’s my musical interests back then was Top 40 pop rock and some limited knowledge of rock and roll in the 60’s like the Beatles or the Rolling Stones. My parents were never into rock music and pretty much considered anyone to be making music in the 60’s & 70’s to be long haired hippies who were probably on drugs.

My Dad listened to Am radio which consisted of news, information and sports events. When he did flip the dial to the FM it was for instrumental music which was also commonly known as elevator music. My Mom’s musical taste was Neil Diamond and Barry Manilow. I still know the words to a lot of Neil Diamond songs and I can definitely sing most of Copacabana from Barry Manilow. Although now it’s quite to humorous to admit my knowledge of Neil Diamond and Barry Manilow songs, back when I was in high school it was definitely not something I was bragging about.

I knew a few Bob Dylan songs but most of his music simply didn’t appeal to me. It wasn’t really played on Top 40 radio and folk music seemed like a genre from a totally different generation, a generation I didn’t come from and didn’t understand.

One of my favorite parts of the movie was him singing at a folk music festival. He strummed his guitar and sang the song….The Times They are A-Changin

I have a little better understanding of what Bob Dylan meant to music and the generation of people coming of age in the 60’s. It was a defining time in our country’s history. An unpopular war was splitting the country, trust in government and other institutions was fraying. Racism and it’s effects still plagued most of the country. So when Dylan strummed his guitar and sang about times a-changin I have to believe alot of people looked forward to that time.

I sit at my laptop each morning and scan the headlines. The problems of the 60’s don’t seem that different from today’s problems. In fact if you didn’t know better you might say we haven’t really solved much since Dylan sang of times a-changin. But at least once a week I click on YouTube and listen to that song.

It’s funny, even though I just recently turned 60, in many ways I feel like the young people of previous generations still waiting for change, hoping for resolutions to problems that nobody really wants to solve.

So…… “gather round people wherever you roam,

the times they are a-changin”……

I hope so Bob, I really do.

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Peace and Love,

John

The Keys are Calling

I’ve always enjoyed reading books and short stories by Ernest Hemingway. He wrote of far away places, of Paris and Spain after World War I, hunting in Africa, short stories of time spent in my own state of Michigan.

Besides traveling around Michigan I’ve yet to travel to any of those exotic places described by Hemingway. In my younger days I wanted to travel to Spain and enjoy the festival he describes in the book The Sun Also Rises. I have no interest in attending a bull fight but I always thought it would be cool to run with the bulls through the streets trying to stay upright while avoiding the horns of a massive angry bull in some kind of wild delusional test of courage.

Now my 60 year old self is less enthused about the idea of running with out of control animals but that’s probably due to my creaky knees and the fact that I would need at least 20 minutes to warm-up to get my body ready to propel myself forward in anything more than a brisk walk.

I recently fell into a YouTube rabbit hole of watching videos of people exploring places in Paris where Hemingway ate and drank. In fact there’s an entire tour that can take Hemingway enthusiast to his favorite watering holes. The idea of wandering around Paris getting a drink at each little cafe or bar would be a wonderful way to spend an afternoon. Sure the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre are must see attractions but close behind for me at least would be a cafe where Hemingway sat and wrote.

I recently discovered that Hemingway’s house in Cuba has been perfectly preserved and is open to tour. He lived there with his third and fourth wives for many years (he had as many houses as wives). He left suddenly after the revolution that led to Castro’s rise to power. When he left he assumed he would be back someday so he left all his personal affects as if leaving for a vacation. His clothes still hang in the closet, his eyeglasses on the nightstand, his toothbrush in the bathroom. A moment in time perfectly preserved.

As it seems highly unlikely I’ll be jetting off to Europe or visiting Cuba anytime soon, I’ve focused my attention on the place Hemingway lived and wrote for many years….Key West. That tropical set of islands at the southern most tip of the country was barely a tourist destination when Hemingway and his second wife settled there. He wrote in the warm mornings, fished in the afternoons and drank in the evenings. His carefully curated image of himself as the best fisherman, best fighter, best drinker and writer was largely forged during this time in Key West.

I remember being quite small perhaps 8 years old when we went on a family vacation to Florida to visit my uncle. I vaguely remember we took a drive to Key West and stayed for a few days. I don’t have many memories of that entire vacation, in fact it was so long ago I think the only evidence of it is some slides my Mom kept for many years. Once a year we would get out the slide projector and have a family night of looking at old vacation slides. Don Draper was right about the slide projector (if your not sure of that reference go to YouTube).

What I do remember is my Dad wanted to go to the bar where Hemingway hung out, I believe it’s called Sloppy Joe’s. Being quite small and not having read any Hemingway I was more curious about all the chickens that ran free throughout the city. Key West might have been at the forefront of the whole cage free, free range chicken craze and that was back in the 70’s.

Key West has become almost a bucket list place for people to visit, a destination all unto itself for the Instagram generation to snap pictures of sunsets and markers that proclaim your as far south as you can be in the country. I dare say most people who visit aren’t likely to care much about an old writer who drank too much, cheated on all his wives and wrote of long ago time and places, but when I visit I’ll seek out his old haunts as my father did and try to avoid the chickens.

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Peace and Love,

John

It Defined Me….

Daily writing prompt
Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.
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I was on the verge of turning 33. Too young for a mid-life crisis or deep existential awakening but having been married for 3 years I came to the realization that I desperately needed a hobby, preferably one that got me out of the house for hours at a time. It was at this point that I took up long distance running.

I’m not sure exactly why I turned to distance running besides the fact that it fit my two criteria, get me out of the house and it took lots of time. Whenever I would see people running down the road it seemed like an activity that they didn’t seem to be enjoying. Runners always appeared to have a pained look on their face that seemed to ask “why am I really doing this ?” Perhaps the real reason, if they were being truthful, was that they needed a hobby that got them out of the house for hours at a time.

Admittedly my journey to distance running does seem a bit strange in retrospect. I had never run on the track or cross country team in high school and although I worked out and was in relatively good shape, running wasn’t something I did consistently, but I had always been intrigued by distance running and the ability to train to endure pain and discomfort that seemed to accompany distance running. And quite frankly it fit my personality of enjoying solitary pursuits in some grand quixotic activity. I had always been amazed at the story of the first marathon runner, a messenger in an ancient war who ran 26 miles from the plains of Marathon to deliver the news of a great victory…..he collapsed and died soon after, a Homeric death if there ever was one.

Initially I told no one of my new passion besides my wife. Partly because I wasn’t really sure how long I would commit to it and partly because I knew people would become puzzled and confused about my desire to do an activity that left me exhausted and uncomfortable. Eventually I did begin telling people of my plans to run a marathon. People I told would be silent for a moment with a confused and puzzled look on their faces, before eventually saying something like “now why would you do that ?”

But once I started doing it, I loved it. I bought magazines, yes magazines, that were devoted solely to distance running and all aspects of training. I studied training programs, experimented with different workouts, trained before work then switched and tried training after work to see what was more effective, before work was way more easier to accomplish effective or not. I bought running shoes and then more shoes. My wife stopped accompanying me to the shoe store knowing I would be there for at least an hour trying on shoes and talking training, despite my obvious bribe of taking her to dinner afterwards.

Running became who I was and what I did… it defined me in ways I was sure non runners could never understand. And when I lined up at the starting line of my first marathon with 20,000 other runners I knew I had found my people and my passion.

One marathon led to another and then another, even traveling out of state and meeting up with an old college buddy who had also discovered distance running. And of course there were shorter races almost every weekend in my area. I started noticing the same familiar faces at each starting line, and I soon began to realize who was fast and who I could realistically beat.

When my wife became pregnant one of the baby shower gifts was a running stroller so I could keep running and take my son with me, perhaps my first bit of parental multitasking it accomplished two very important tasks, giving my wife a break and getting my son a nap as he soon fell asleep in the motion of the rolling stroller.

I soon began going to races pushing him in the stroller, no longer preoccupied with being fast, I took great joy in passing as many other runners as possible while pushing a stroller. After a couple of years my son outgrew the stroller, his legs were dangling over the edges. It was at about this time I tried to get back to marathon training. Perhaps it was fate or simply trying to do too much too soon but I quickly developed a stress fracture in my foot which was misdiagnosed initially and when finally properly diagnosed set my recovery back months. Unwilling to have surgery to remove the small offending bone, I began to realize my days of running marathons had suddenly ended.

I turned to other activities, activities that also took hours and required I vacate the premises. Hiking and biking soon replaced running but although each was satisfying they pale in comparison to distance running. I admit part of the allure of running marathons was telling people I ran marathons, and then seeing their bewildered looks. Running defined me in ways that no other activity ever has, no matter how many miles I ride my bike and although my creaky knees are probably partially attributed to running I wish I could still do it.

Peace and love,

John

How About a Walk

Daily writing prompt
What are your morning rituals? What does the first hour of your day look like?
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Some days getting out of bed seems difficult. It’s too cold, too dark, too early and the demands of the day feel far too overwhelming. Who amongst us hasn’t contemplated burying themselves deeper under the blankets, pulling them over our head and wishing we could stay there forever or at least until the sun comes out. But we know the longer we stay hidden under the blankets the further we fall behind in our daily responsibilities…..ugh, responsibilities….those things that people count on you to do. If only there were less responsibilities and more time wrapped in blankets dozing in that early morning slumber.

One way to trick myself to get up and moving is to begin the day with a morning walk. I do this even though I realize that I’m getting up earlier than I need to and I’m robbing myself of extra sleep under a warm comforter, but I feel it’s worth it. Living in the mid-west can make these early morning walks difficult and far less appealing than in a warmer climate. Depending on the time of year it’s still dark and cold, and the moon still glows reminding me that perhaps I’m foolish to be out so early. But with my earbuds in my ears and a winter hat covering my head plus enough layers to stay warm I set out to begin my day.

I find it fascinating to see the my neighborhood at this unique time, night drifting away and morning slowly announcing her arrival. I’ve seen deer browsing through our apple trees eating the fallen apples off the ground and even standing on their hind legs plucking them off the trees. They graze uninterrupted until they sense my presence, they freeze and stare at me for a brief moment and then silently hurry away bounding at an astonishing speed. Other nocturnal creatures scurry away as morning approaches like vampires avoiding daylight.

The birds are the first thing I usually notice, especially in the warmer months chirping and singing a beautiful natural wake up to the world. The singing of the birds means that sunrise is not far behind. Frequently as night disappears into daylight the sky is streaked in a mosaic of colors so wonderful I usually stop and appreciate the beauty before me as if standing before a work of art hanging in a museum, but this is a work of art I’m part of as it surrounds me and with it a new day presenting opportunities and possibilities that are endless.

Could I have these same feelings while burrowed under my comforter dozing in a morning slumber….probably not, and I find that my morning walk gets me going and feeling a positive vibe. I’m more likely to accomplish more if I begin the day with a walk although I have discovered that the morning nap after the morning walk is quite a wonderful feeling too.

Peace and Love,

John

Gimme A Break

Daily writing prompt
Do you need a break? From what?
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If only it was so easy to just have a break. I think we could all use a break from something. Work would rank high on the list of what people would like a break from. Then there are other obligations and commitments that can be overwhelming at times. Taking care of a sick or elderly family member can be both physically and mentally draining. Other times it’s just the drudgery of everyday tasks that we long to escape from. As I sit here looking out my sunroom window I realize I just want a break from winter.

Most years I try to fully embrace winter. I always say there’s no such thing as bad weather just bad clothing choices. As someone who worked outside for most of my career I got used to all kinds of weather. The heat of summer, the damp rains of fall and yes even the snowy clutches of winter. I also enjoy winter activities like skiing or a winter hike on a crisp, raw day. But I’ve come to realize that I really only enjoy those activities if the the sun is shining. So perhaps it’s not winter I need a break from but the gray drabness of it that accompanies winter in the midwest.

I swear we can go a week without seeing the sun. We get up each day in darkness, soon the darkness fades to reveal an endless gray sky and a landscape covered in snow. Everything looks the same and only two colors dominate our vision, gray and the white of snow. I feel like I’m living in my own black and white film.

And because it’s only the beginning of February I know there are still weeks of this bleakness. On gray overcast days I just want to stay inside and hibernate with some soup simmering on the stove and a book that takes me away from my existence. I wouldn’t mind winter if only we had more sunshine.

So yes, I’ll gladly take a break from the depths of winters cold grip and gray drabness and as soon as a sunny day comes along I’ll be out there enjoying it no matter the temperature.

Peace and Love,

John

So Many to Read, So Little Time

Daily writing prompt
What books do you want to read?
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For the last few years I’ve been keeping track of the books I’ve read. Each year I try to read more than the previous year. This past year I read 17 books….. I believe that’s the most I’ve read in a year but I know it pales in comparison to some people, my wife is a voracious reader who can easily read 1 or even 2 books a week.

I like to to keep track of what I’ve read to see if I’m perhaps reading too much of a certain author or genre. I enjoy reading John Grisham books and each year I seem to read 1 or 2. Either he comes out with a new one or I find a title I haven’t read at my local library. I recently found one at the library that I hadn’t read. The story revolved around the theft of the F. Scott Fitzgerald manuscripts from the Princeton library. It got me thinking that I never read any other works by Fitzgerald except Gatsby. It took me multiple readings of Gatsby to truly appreciate it. I was always hung up on the idea that it was just a story of the rich and privileged doing awful things and not being held accountable. Even though Gatsby is hung up on his high school crush it’s still a story of love and loss. I read that Gatsby wasn’t even a big success when it was written and Fitzgerald was bankrupt and so desperate for money and recognition that he was writing screen plays in Hollywood when he died. I think I’ll read more Fitzgerald this year to see if his other story’s are as good as Gatsby.

I’ve always been fascinated with Hemingway. He himself cultivated an image of a man who could drink more, write better, out fight and out womanize anyone else. As with a lot of mythology some of this is true and some of it is pure fiction, but the man could write. Not everything he wrote stands the test of time and some of his subjects are just plain puzzling nowadays, his fascination with bullfighting and traveling around Europe as part of “the lost generation” seems odd. His personal life may have been as tragic as the characters in his books but some of those books are pure genius. The subjects of love, loss and death permeate his great works and I think I’ll continue to read as much of his work as I can.

Being a sports fan I could easily spend a whole year reading nothing but sports books especially baseball. I think of all the sports, baseball is the sport that has the most books about it, perhaps it’s the history and tradition of the game or maybe just the simple pace and day to day nature of it but I do enjoy a baseball book during the long, dark, cold winter months. Reading a baseball book in the winter gives me something to look forward to as the seasons eventually change.

I read somewhere that the best story’s are about baseball, running and horses. Maybe it’s the solitary nature of running, the lyrical day to day grind of baseball and the simple beauty of a horse but I have read great books about all 3 of those subjects. But there are great story’s everywhere…..go find a book and read it

Peace and Love,

John