On a morning when each breath draws bright icicles into the soul came a knock on the heart’s door.
“Hey! It’s me! Your inner Bradbury,” came a child’s voice like a warm breeze. “Take me for a spin with a pair of new sneakers unleashed on the meadow next door, like a rocket on the launch pad gathering fuel for one grand push against the Earth, like an old lady with a gleam in her eye who tells of mysteries no little girl or boy can fathom.
“Run across fields full of stars and buzzing sounds that come from nowhere and everywhere. Take me anywhere, but take me – send me on an adventure, share a nugget of joy in the living, in the finding, in the exploring, for it’s a good world to live, find and explore.
“Settle on a distant planet only to find the challenges of men and women don’t change so much just because the scenery is different, but yes they do because the scenery is different, and yet humans are still humans.
“Do anything with me, your inner Bradbury, but don’t neglect me, for there’s the path to old age.”
“I guess I am getting old,” I replied. “But not so old that I would purposefully neglect you, old friend.”
And I reached up for a book.
The wind roars up from the bottom of the hill behind our house
– or is that the bay shouting out its lungs?
water crashing into white caps of fury, or
a beast roaring at the heart of the world,
bouncing off itself joyfully to scream “Life! Live! Love!”
Be angry or be alive.
Laugh or cry.
The choices present themselves every day.
It’s lighter on the soul.
Reading an essay about the legendary rebel Malcolm Reynolds, a thought occurs to me about war and rebellion and human nature.
“I must write about that,” I says to myself, I says, “after I finish reading.”
But when I finish reading, the insight eludes me like the plot of a memorable dream. I scan through the essay again, hoping the words will re-ignite my imagination, but the thought is gone.
Next time, I guess, I’ll leave pen and paper nearby.
But I always have pen and a pad in my shirt pocket.
Next time, I guess, I’ll stop and pull out the pen and paper.
Stop what you’re doing and memorialize that random thought, else it returns to wherever it came from.
I thought I’d find you here. You’ve been stuck in the same place for so long it’s easy to find you, waiting for – what ARE you waiting for?
You do know that when what you’re waiting for comes, it won’t change the basics? You will still be who you are.
If you want to change something, don’t wait for some special circumstances or some special person. Start working on it today. That way, you don’t have to wait until what you’re waiting for comes.
It might just turn out that you’ve been waiting for Godot, after all, and then where would you be?
What are you waiting for? Get started.
It’s a bittersweet day for me, personally. It was Oct. 25, 2016, that the corporation told me my days as editor of the Door County Advocate were over, effective immediately. Here’s what I wrote about that the next day.
Of course, it was not the end of my days sharing the stories of this wonderful corner of the universe, and I started turning my attention to Kewaunee County news a month later. Here’s a little bit of those whys and wherefores.
KewauneeComet.com is my little effort to keep community journalism alive here. I admit I feel a little more angry these days, not for me personally but for the communities that once were served by the Algoma Record-Herald, Kewaunee Enterprise, Luxemburg News, Denmark Press, De Pere Journal and other casualties of the last 13 years. For the people who founded those publications, the news was about the community, not the bucks. I’m glad to be away from that mentality and doing my little bit to keep the light shining.