Hello again. Sorry I was away for so long. It wasn’t my intent, but time just slips away.
I have no great news on the writing side of my endeavors. I’ve been tinkering with my Fathers and Sons stories, and I’ve been making notes on a couple of other stories, but I haven’t taken/made/stolen the time to put any real effort into any of it. (I’ve been getting some insights — where do these come from? — about how to integrate the stories, how to carry certain themes and motifs through them, and I can see that I really need to commit to doing them right, which means . . . hard work!) But I think I’m in recovery mode right, having told myself that the stories are now written and soon will need to be rewritten. So a break. Perhaps. Or maybe I’m just a lazy bum.
I spent four days around Mother’s Day weekend in Paducah, Kentucky visiting with my mother, my aunt, and my sister. Everything was low key. Too much eating. Too much sitting around. Too many excuses not to get out and run. There was actually a half marathon there that weekend (on mostly flat ground, too) that I had been considering for a while. But my runs in the week prior were dreadful, embarrassing things, and I knew I didn’t have a half marathon in me over the weekend. (Still recovering from that marathon in St. Louis. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.) So I didn’t sign up. I did, however, lace up and run to the start (about three miles from my mother’s condo) to watch the pack take off. That was a mistake since it made me regret not participating and made me chide myself for not being able to participate. Next year!
While at my mother’s, I took an evening to go through the many, many photo albums she has, looking for a particular photo of myself. I mentioned in this earlier post about one of my characters finding a photo of his father in his grandfather’s albums and being greatly affected by it. And then I realized that there was a similar photo of me in the real world. So I knew that when I went to Paducah, I would be in search of that photo. My mother doubted that she still had it and had even made a preliminary search for it. But there it was. I have no memory of the matter depicted in this photo, just as none of the characters in my story have any memory of it. Both of us were tiny boys at the time. But I do love the serendipity.
So the coming days stand before me. I managed to get the lawn mowed before the forecasted thunderstorms. I’m hoping to get out to my little cabin in the woods on Saturday. More writing work. More running. Whatever.