Follow Tomorrow is the 40th anniversary of a first marriage; this curious remembrance takes place every year, admitting to my wonderful wife of thirty-two years, that I can’t help but recall pre-historic, formative years. Trying to extricate myself from low-level guilt, I’m quick to remind that without that first time we wouldn’t exist; a little determinism roasting in the holiday oven. Gosh, when my parents were married forty years, they were old.
Forty years also means three careers ago. Now, instead of rocking in a chair on the porch, sipping prune juice on the rocks, I’ve become a debut, emerging author. Where is the cognitive slowdown that a prune juice aficionado is supposed to undergo?
The passion for the written word is powerful. I want to write, tell stories, make people think, except now I find myself going to book expos, lectures on publishing, writing workshops, taking any kind of webinars designed to shove a wealth of information into mind. Last week, I took a webinar on using social media to approach generation Y; 81% of them respond to solicitations via social media. Redemption: I do play beer pong, do keg stands and socialize.
Sentimentality reigns. Who would’ve ever thought that four decades later, I’d be immersed in a new profession as a writer? I wear the title with pride and accomplishment. Who would’ve thought I’d be doing nervous kitchen pacing two days before Thanksgiving and watching March of the Wooden Soldiers for the 57th straight time, waiting for my first book review to come out?
Life is listening to In the Mood by Glenn Miller and Rhapsody in Blue by Gershwin, which just finished.(Thank you, You Tube). Forties music transports me on that wonderful drifting magic carpet back to energies which birthed my novel; a 1942 movie, Casablanca.
Niche marketing, press releases, the widest of worlds and opportunities, dreams and synchronicity. My grandfather who passed in 1937 and is so much a part of life now. Knowledge to pursue dreams and extend life quality. My wife and son. The internet. Spirituality. Bounty(not Mutiny on) of America. The promise of America. All that is ahead in this literary journey. As if I were back at Maple Avenue Grammar School(today they call them Elementary), I’m thinking of some of the reasons to give thanks.
Happy Healthy Thanksgiving.