A Path to Manageable Lists

After several years of steady whittling, I'm now approaching the point where my reading list no longer feels oppressively overwhelming. I'm additionally pleased to report that since leaving the full-time work world, I've finished at least one book by many authors I'd told myself I'd sample "eventually" from a list I'd been maintaining for at least forty years. Though a few longstanding, ambitious reading goals remain unmet, I'm satisfied with how focused my reading life has been since 2010. One factor above all has helped keep me on this path - an enhanced vetting process for books or authors recommended to me. 

Beginning about the same time I began using a book journal, I jettisoned the habit of adding either a book or an author to my list without first learning a few key things about the person doing the recommending. What were the last several books that moved that person? Which authors are on this reader's "go-to" list? I even began asking more targeted questions of my reading posse a few years back. For example: What specifically made this book you're recommending to me so special? It's not that I'd lost any trust in my posse. But my discernment continues to deepen and time has grown increasingly precious. Though I don't keep score of the individual batting averages of my posse, if I sense any of the four have dipped below Ted Williams territory, a probationary period is now possible. Just saying. 

With respect to admitting new members into the posse, that bar is both high and non-negotiable. A new recommender must go five for five to start. Currently, there is one strong potential contender who has, to date, gone three for three. This individual recommended This is Happiness (2019) - Niall Williams, Say Nothing (2019) - Patrick Radden Keefe, and Profiles in Ignorance (2022) - Andy Borowitz, an impressive hat trick. If the streak continues with two more winners, this person will be the first new posse inductee since 2014. Stay tuned.  

Reflections From The Bell Curve: This Is Happiness 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: An Antidote for Lazy Thinking

47 vs. 74

Ever mess around with the numbers that make up your age as a thought/memory experiment? Why not join me as I do so today? Reversing your numbers - as I will be doing - is intriguing because you can end up with a number higher or lower than your current age. This means you are either recalling an earlier year in your life - an easier, if potentially slippery task - or trying to envision an older version of you, an act of imagination.  

If your numbers are identical, e.g., 33 or 66, add or multiply for today's experiment, using whichever younger age feels more vivid in your memory. Those of you on the cusp of a decade, e.g., 40 or 50, can't multiply unless you want the experiment to be science fiction. Other options = skip the exercise, pretend you're a year older or younger, or dig really deep and pull some stuff from early childhood. 

At 47, I was in the middle of my master's program, doing adult education, mostly in the social justice field. Because my work and degree required it, my reading diet at the time was almost exclusively non-fiction. One memorable book from that era: Two Nations by Andrew Hacker. I'd recently dissolved what would turn out to be my last band, returning to solo gigs. My listening diet was shifting a bit, as jazz supplanted other genres and guitarists like Jim Hall took center stage. I was fully involved in the life of my daughter who was then in grammar school. Many movies of the time I enjoyed were ones I could watch with her, e.g., The Little Mermaid.  

Your turn.   

An Antidote for Lazy Thinking

"The romantic idyll of a revolutionary movement is easier to sustain when there is no danger that one's own family members might get blown up on a trip to the grocery store."

I recommend Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland (2019) without reservation. Author Patrick Radden Keefe is an exceptional writer, masterful storyteller, and rigorous researcher. I'm looking forward to reading more of his work. 

The murder of Jean McConville - a Belfast mother of ten - is the scaffolding on which Keefe constructs his compelling tale. But true to its subtitle, memory plays an equal role in this remarkable book. With the Troubles in Northern Ireland haunting and distorting - in equal measure - the memories of many people who lived through those traumatic years, the whole truth about McConville's abduction and murder remains unknown, even with two prominent players confessing their part in the crime. 

And the "calibrated sophistry" of Gerry Adams - who wouldn't sit for an interview with Keefe as he researched the book - boggles the mind. Despite mountains of evidence to the contrary, to this day the ex-Sinn Fein representative still maintains he was never a member of the Provisional Wing of the Irish Republican Army. After reading Say Nothing, I could picture Adams's delight when he first heard Kellyanne Conway refer to "alternative facts". Words to live by for a maniacal dissembler like Gerry. 

The shrewd observations Patrick Keefe sprinkles throughout his brilliant book - like the sentence from Chapter 19 opening this post - chastened me. Looking for easy answers, ignoring shades of gray, and reflexively taking sides are blunt ways of looking at complex problems. More than once, the armchair revolutionary in me has blustered about conflicts akin to the Troubles and offered glib solutions for other intractable problems that plague our world. By continuing to read books like Say Nothing, I'm hopeful I'll begin to mitigate that type of lazy thinking. 

Forty-Six and Counting

At the start of 2024, I decided this year my blog would mark major holidays as well as celebrate many of the significant personal dates from my life. Significant-wise, April 17 is near the top of the heap.

About one week after meeting my life partner at a bar where I was playing at the time, we had our first date on April 17, 1978. Dinner at Long John's in Atlantic Highlands - great popovers, BTW - followed by drinks at the Union Jack in South River. The musician friend who was playing there that night - Glenn Burtnick - worked the same circuit as me in those years. 

Anyone who has ever heard our origin story knows the rest. During dinner, after noticing the fresh fragrance in her hair, I asked an inane question: "What shampoo do you use?" Her unaffected response - "Whatever is in the shower" - thoroughly enchanted me. Later that night, I told her I was going to marry her. 

Forty-six years later, that decision remains one of my best.

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Acknowledging Our Tribe

    

Another Reason to Get Out of Dodge, Frequently

Which pieces of yourself do you notice shifting - even slightly - when you are away from home for more than a few days? Are you - like me - perhaps a bit more relaxed? If so, how does that increased relaxation manifest? More patience? More openness? More clarity?  

Since leaving the full-time work world fourteen years ago, I've been indulging my wanderlust as much as my budget allows. During my most recent trip I found myself paying more attention to little shifts in my normal behaviors. I observed myself more closely when interacting with fellow travelers and listened more carefully to the way I spoke of my wife when conversing with them. It wasn't until later when I tried capturing the tone of those interactions and conversations in my journal that I fully recognized the slightly different Pat that was frequently showing up - a bit kinder, more measured, definitely more appreciative. A Pat I liked better.    

And that leaves me with a question to pose to you on my behalf. If you've discovered better pieces of yourself when you're away for a while, what strategies have helped you maintain that state of grace after you return home? Thanks in advance for any suggestions you offer. Finding ways to hold onto traveling Pat after he's home might assist him later in minimizing at least a few marital brushfires, especially the ones he ignited.      

Living Life Aloud

Although I've embarrassed my daughter more times than I can count via my habit of engaging strangers in conversations - on the streets, in restaurants, anywhere really - I don't plan to ever stop doing this. Truth be told, not only is this habit something I like about myself, on more than a few occasions I've connected in a genuine way with people. The fact that it's unlikely I'll ever interact again with any of these strangers is irrelevant. The human connection is what energizes me. And who's to say the same thing won't be true for one or more of these strangers? What have any of us got to lose by trying to connect in this way? 

While making a few trips to my car carrying my equipment after teaching a class at a local college, it was hard to ignore the two young women sitting in the lobby engaged in an animated conversation filled with infectious laughter. With a big smile on my face I joked with them about keeping the noise down, a remark that elicited more laughter from both. Before leaving the building, I engaged them further - this is the part that drives my daughter to distraction - suggesting they would benefit from retaining their contagious enthusiasm as their lives unfold. I briefly shared how often in my younger life well-meaning but misguided naysayers would tell me to "tone it down" or words to that effect when my enthusiasm struck one of them as "too much". In my experience, the stifling of positive energy - like those two young women embodied - is an all-too-common occurrence. Why not encourage enthusiasm and reward the passion of people who live their lives aloud? Who benefits when the energy that makes the world a more vibrant place is shushed?  How can shaming enthusiastic, passionate people ever be worthwhile? 

It was obvious both young women were moved as our interaction ended. This touched me deeply. Please forgive your old dog Dad, sweetheart. Learning a new trick to replace this habit is probably not in the cards. 

I've Got Your Number (#3)

Because today's iteration of my newest series is less music-centered than the first two, it's possible my smarty pants friend who quickly solved those two may have more difficulty today. Or maybe not. 

For anyone new to my latest twist in pop culture ephemera, each of the five items below - TV show, film, song, book, etc. - had in its original title a number over fifty. One of the five is wholly correct as noted. Your mission is to first identify that item and also name the artist most closely identified with it. Next, transplant a correct number from three of the items to a different item elsewhere on the list so that original titles are correctly reflected for those three. As with iterations #1 and #2, the remaining item - with its correct number seen nowhere on this list - requires more brainwork. Explanation for the more challenging piece follows the list of five. Ready? Remember, using Google is cheating. 

1). 222 Blows

2.) 400 Pick-Up

3.) 2017: A Space Odyssey

4.) Room 52

5.) 409   

For the remaining item, first supply its correct number. That part is quite easy unless you were asleep or not alive in the mid-20th century and even then, odds are most of you can supply the correct number for this iconic piece of pop culture. Now take the number from that item that can't be used elsewhere on this list and transplant it to a reasonably well-known song by a very well-known pop singer. Hint: The first word of this two-word song title is the name of a city and the song itself mentions neither the city nor the number in its lyric. If anyone - including you, smarty pants - needs a second hint for the remaining item, I'll supply that after a reasonable amount of time. 

I'm standing by. 

In Good Company

The skillful construction of Mercy Street (2022) escaped me until I began writing my book journal entry about Jennifer Haigh's compelling novel. How recently have you had a similar experience as a reader? What was it that brought you to a deeper appreciation for the author's craft? More time to process what you'd read? A conversation? Or, did writing about the book - as I did - get you there?

Although the prose throughout Mercy Street is sturdy ("The couch embraced her like quicksand."), it never intrudes on the straightforward story of Claudia Birch, a semi-adrift thirty something woman who works at an embattled women's health clinic in Boston. Until the final pages I didn't realize how the author had given me just enough of Claudia's back story to make the novel's moving denouement wholly believable. And each piece I learned about the three other main characters drew me in just as effectively. In Haigh's capable hands, the meaningful intersection of these four lives held me from first sentence to last. What a joy it was to be swept along so completely. 

Just before starting Mercy Street, I was browsing in my local library. I had on my mind the names of several authors I wanted to re-visit having read just one novel by each over the last fifteen years, but each of those novels had knocked me out. A few years from now when I'm in a similar browsing mood, unsure what to choose next, I can easily envision Jennifer Haigh's name coming to me then like the names of Leif Enger (Peace Like a River - 2001), Jaimy Gordon (Lord of Misrule - 2010), and Lloyd Jones (Mister Pip - 2006) came to me on my most recent hunt. That's some good company you're in Jennifer.   

Words for the Ages: Line Thirty

"When you trust your television, what you get is what you got."

When John Mayer wrote that lyric for Waiting on the World to Change (2006), which television station(s) do you think he had in mind? Those of us old enough to recall when only a handful of TV stations existed - none of them affiliated with media empire billionaires curating content to ensure we weren't exposed to information that would challenge our worldview - might remember actually trusting much of what we heard on TV. What a quaint notion in an era when TVs assault us 24/7 in every conceivable public space and many people have multiple screens in their homes with angry, divisive pundits incessantly screaming at us to only play in the sandbox with those who share our opinions.    

Arguably, Mayer's lyric may have qualified as words for the ages even in the pre-cable TV era. But there's no question his words fit the 21st century like a glove. And I would submit his words will only grow to be more prescient as our fractured future unfolds. His concise phrase is also of a piece with an oft-repeated layman's definition of insanity: Doing the same thing, the same way, over and over again, and expecting different results. 

I'm not naive enough to think we'll ever return to a time when a phrase like "alternative facts" would make all intelligent people snicker. Sadly, what I'm left with is another phrase I heard years back, a slightly longer version of Mayer's wisdom without a reference to the idiot box, i.e., When you always do what you've always done, you always get what you've always got.  

Dangling Conversations with Music Lovers

What a gift it has been teaching serious music lovers these past ten years. 

A few months back I received an e-mail from one of these music lovers. She wrote me upon learning of the impending release of a two-part documentary series about Paul Simon. If you love his music - as I do almost without reservation - I strongly recommend In Endless Dreams. Though it's possible I might otherwise have learned about the series, I'm still grateful this music lover thought to contact me, especially with The Dangling Conversation - my own six-hour course about Simon - scheduled for a late April reprise at a local college. I can now add material learned from the series, including rich insights director Alex Gibney coaxed out of the modern-day master as he described his process while creating Seven Psalms (2023). Had this music lover not contacted me, much of this fresh anecdotal material about Simon's most recent recording might not have made it into my reprise. 

Developing and delivering these music classes since 2014 has been energizing and rewarding. And the frequent offline interactions and conversations I've had with music lovers have significantly enhanced that reward. Excuse me now as I track down a recent interview Stephen Colbert did with Paul Simon. Want to guess how I came to hear about that?    

Another Tribute to My Hero

I've often wondered what my Dad would have had to say about my blog. Although not an overly private man, he also wasn't temperamentally inclined to be public about many things. That fact alone makes me uncertain how he would have reacted to some of the more personal stuff that I've reflected on here.

On the other hand, from the start, Dad was unreservedly supportive of my interest in becoming a musician. He couldn't provide much financial help but he was often the one who volunteered to drive my high-school band to gigs. And he and my Mom allowed that band to rehearse in the "dining room", a tiny space in our railroad flat on the second floor of a house we shared with Mom's brother and his family on the ground floor and her mother on the third. To this day, I marvel at the tolerance it must have taken for my parents to listen to five out-of-tune teenagers - at close range - loudly playing songs neither one of them probably liked, over and over. Did I mention I learned how to play drums - practicing incessantly - in that same flat?   

I wonder what Dad would have thought about me sharing this family story. Aside from today, his birthday, I've recalled him many times here - on Veteran's Day, D-Day, etc. Sometimes a memory is dislodged, another instance of his unwavering love, and I feel compelled to write about him, my hero in every meaningful way. If he were still with me, perhaps he might have tried to talk me out of this and all my other public tributes to him. I suspect I wouldn't have listened. 

Reviving Our Moribund Mission

Another gratifying by-product of our recent trip to Africa was the opportunity we had to sample the cuisine of several countries that we hadn't yet experienced in our Eat the World mission. That mission began thirteen years ago when I published the post directly below. 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: World Traveling Via Food (To Be Continued)

With the eight new nations added to our list in February - six of which were added visiting one restaurant in Cape Town - we hit a significant milestone: Since March 2011 we've now sampled the cuisine of 102 nations. And for two of those eight - Botswana and Zimbabwe - we ate at local restaurants in the actual countries (South Africa and Namibia were already on our list before the trip), which clearly enhanced the authenticity of the eating experiences. My personal favorites were the Malawi sweet potato cakes and the Zimbabwe amasi herb dip. What was your most recent unique eating experience?

I'm pumped our African adventure helped revived our moribund mission. With about ninety countries left to try, I'm feeling renewed confidence that we might eventually reach our goal. Please let me know if you're aware of a local restaurant serving an off-the-curve cuisine. One helpful hint: Forget North, Central, and South America; we've covered almost all that culinary territory. Best bets for stuff we haven't tried would be obscure, smaller Asian nations, or some landlocked African countries. Next in the queue is a Nepalese restaurant in NYC I've had my eye on for quite a while. What a blast.    

This Is Happiness

My travels with Road Scholar have proven to be a reliable way to learn about worthwhile books. This Is Happiness (2019) is the latest example of an exceptional novel that otherwise might have slipped by me if one of my Road Scholar companions in Africa hadn't recommended it. Not only was I intrigued because author Niall Williams was unfamiliar to me, the more my companion described authors, novels, and short stories he admired, the more certain I felt I could trust his instincts. I didn't have to wait long when reading This Is Happiness to know I was in capable hands. 

"I sometimes think the worst thing a young person can feel is when you can find no answer to the question of what you are supposed to do with this life you've been given." When a sentence grabs me at page thirteen (of 380), I'm all in. "I'm at an age now when in the early mornings I'm often revisited by my own mistakes, stupidities, and unintended cruelties. They sit around the edge of the bed and look at me and say nothing. But I see them well enough." With a narrator able to see himself that clearly, it didn't matter to me that this was going to be another coming-of-age story. It was apparent from that second passage - also early in the book - the wisdom here would be well earned.

Although I raced through This Is Happiness, I don't recommend you do. Savor it. Enjoy the characters and the humor - "...but for the muffled artillery of his gas" - track the luminous prose describing the Irish countryside - "...you stood in the revelation of so many stars you could not credit and felt smaller in body as your soul felt enormous" - marvel at the effortless way this gifted author juxtaposes his bildungsroman with a tale of modernity coming to an insular community. Gather gems like this: "In this life, I-could-see-that-coming and I-couldn't-see-that-coming amount to the same thing, because in neither case did you make a difference." And avoid being put off by what sounds like fatalism in that sentence near the conclusion. In context, I promise, those words help deliver the well-earned wisdom in this timeless and beautifully realized story of love, redemption, forgiveness.   

    

#71: The Mt. Rushmore Series

It's been eleven months since Mt. Rushmore last made an appearance. Please fib and tell me you've been anticipating this latest iteration of my longest running, most prolific series. Today's monument enshrines four transformational musical moments. What shook you enough the first time you heard it that you'll never be quite the same? 

1.) A voice: All it took was hearing that two-syllable name - Roxanne. I even remember saying - either out loud or to myself - Who the hell is that? In my life, the only close competition for a voice that immediately grabbed me like Sting's was the first time I heard Saving All My Love for You. What happened for you when you first heard either Sting or Whitney Houston? 

2.) A guitarist: In the quaint days when people listened to commercial radio, a DJ would often wait until a song was over to tell you the title and - if you got lucky - the artist. Upon first hearing Sultans of Swing, I recall hoping the DJ would give me that minimal information. After learning this new band was called Dire Straits, it was up to me to discover Mark Knopfler's name. His playing has mesmerized me ever since.

3.) An ensemble: Seeing the Mahavishnu Orchestra perform soon after they released their first LP - The Inner Mounting Flame - was as close as I've ever come to having a mystical musical experience. The way these five extraordinary musicians played their impossibly complex compositions was breathtaking. But amazing as that was, when they then began to improvise at breakneck speed - simultaneously - I was changed at a molecular level, musically. 

4.) A bass player: Of the moments on my mountain, my initiation to Jaco Pastorius, did not - unlike the other three - coincide with his explosion into the musical firmament. Jaco had already blown away legions with his earlier work in Weather Report. But when I heard his otherworldly bass playing on Joni Mitchell's masterpiece Hejira, particularly on Refuge of the Roads, I knew a musical comet had just passed. Jaco's early death still saddens me. 

How about you? No need to erect a full mountain or to use any of my categories; it's your monument. But please share with me and others at least one musical moment that rattled you as the four above did me.  

St. James Day or Bust

As 2024 began, I decided my blog should mark - in some fashion - all major holidays over the coming year. Unfortunately, that resolve evaporated when both Valentine's (sorry sweetheart) and President's Day (ditto George and Abe) passed by unremarked. Although spotty Internet service while we were in Africa over most of February was largely to blame for that lapse, the mojo has now returned. Pardon the holiday solipsism that follows. 

Patrick, Martin, Christopher, and Jesus. That's some company my namesake is keeping, right? Today's holiday - using my moniker - has outlasted those commemorating Washington & Lincoln's birthdays; they were demoted to sharing a day and their title. Honor the blasphemous substitution of "Xmas" for Christmas, do you? That brings us down to three names associated with a major holiday = Patrick, Martin & Christopher. How about this? When people mention the holidays celebrated on the third Monday of January and the second Monday of October, are first names generally cited? Aren't you much more likely to hear MLK or Columbus Day? That leaves Patrick standing alone. Nice.    

The parades, drinking, and celebrating that help keep my name on lots of lips today are catnip to an ego like mine. But I'll not be fully satisfied until a holiday with my middle name is formally declared. To that end, I've retained the services of a flock of high-paid lobbyists, bribed a dozen members of Congress, and begun a grassroots campaign to have August 1 declared St. James Day, effective this year. I haven't yet settled on whether post offices and banks should close but Hallmark is gearing up and other noteworthy people named James have donated funds to my cause. With August being a barren holiday month, success is all but guaranteed. And as soon as St. James Day is codified, Barton is next in the queue. Posterity awaits, you'll see.                  

Getting the Hang of It

After thirteen full years of blogging, I might be getting the hang of it.

When Maiden Voyage was published on March 15, 2011, I was sixty-one years old and had stopped working full time almost exactly one year before. How old were you? What were you doing for a living at the time? Are you still doing that, something different, or have you left the full-time work world?

My abiding passions then were music, reading, and film; that hasn't changed a great deal. But initiating my blog helped me bring into sharper focus another passion that had always sustained me even if the necessities of life - like making a living - had frequently pushed it into the background. That until-then subsumed passion was a lifelong drive to organize my world via writing. What passions drive you? Which are lifelong vs. more recently discovered? 

 

Before this blog became essential to my life, my writing had taken many forms - poems, songs, essays, reviews, never-finished books, etc. Once I began blogging, I quickly discovered the discipline of being public and accountable for producing something routinely had been a critical missing element in my creative life. On a few occasions when I've had cause to re-read an old post, I've cringed. But more often, I've been pleased with what I've written. More important, many of my other finished endeavors - several of which I've been quite pleased with - would have likely never materialized without this blog acting as a catalyst. What recent or long-time discipline of yours has opened you up as blogging has done for me? 

If you are a first-time visitor to the bell curve - accidental or otherwise - welcome and I hope you return. If you're an occasional reader - no matter how occasional - thanks for checking in. If you're a regular reader, thank you so much and be sure to let me know how I can keep you engaged. If you've ever made a comment, please know - as I alluded to in Maiden Voyage - every comment or incipient spark of an online conversation helps ensure the bell curve will remain open for business. 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Maiden Voyage

 

A Rocky First

If only I'd put my guitar back in its case after finishing the second song. 

Besides getting there early enough to chat with the other musicians before beginning to play - and quitting while I was still feeling good - I'm struggling to extract other pertinent lessons from my first experience participating in a public jam session. I made some music on Body and Soul with the piano player and held my own leading the quartet through Out of Nowhere. From there, things went awry. Quickly.  

The next three tunes I played on were all quite familiar, but first my hands and then my brain let me down. My anemic soloing on Alone Together disappointed me enough that having to transpose Night and Day and How High the Moon to different keys on the spot sent me into a musical tailspin. My brain freeze was followed by mortifying solos on both those songs which, in turn, sealed the deal. Though I'd waited too long, it was now time to pack up. 

This first will not be my last, despite my D+ performance. I plan to set aside my embarrassment and return to this session, provided the leader will allow me to sit in again. Perhaps I'll do so as soon as this week. But it will be a while before I invite anyone to attend and listen. When did you most recently put yourself out there? Did you fall on your face as badly I did? If so, how long was it before you got back on the horse?              

I've Got Your Number (#2)

First off, congratulations to the smarty-pants who quickly cracked the first installment of this newest series when I kicked it off in early February. Although this second iteration may not be a big enough challenge for that showoff, I've got a few more cooking that may foil even a geek like him. In the meanwhile, apply the same guidelines used for installment # 1. Those are ... 

* Identify the one title that is correct as stated.

* Identify three of the five having incorrect numbers in their title as stated and then transplant the correct number from a title that is elsewhere on this list of five.

* Identify one title having an incorrect number in its title as stated and supply the correct number without using Google. Then, take the incorrect number from that title and slot it into the title of a book later turned into a series of films. Ready? 

1.) When I'm 69

2.) 1:01 to Yuma

3.) Summer of 55

4.) Ol' 64 

5.) Sixty Years On   

Extra challenge for smarty-pants/showoff: Which artist (author, filmmaker, musician, TV personality, etc.) is most closely associated with the item having the correct title as stated? 

As with installment #1, if no comments/answers are forthcoming in due time, I'll supply a hint to help grease the wheels. Good luck.  

Practicing on People I Love

The dynamics of human communication are endlessly fascinating. While listening to a friend describe the difficulty he has communicating with his brother, I began reflecting on predictable breakdowns I have with my own siblings. I love them all at the same time as I frequently wonder how little they seem to get me. And I'd be surprised to learn that all three of them haven't had similar thoughts about me from time to time. Any of you with siblings ever had similar wonderings?

I'm guessing most of you would agree that our earliest communication models are those we learn by observing our parents speaking to each other. Then, if we have siblings - and especially if they are close in age to ourselves, as mine are to me - we begin building models with them that become highly influential in our early development as communicators. In effect, we're practicing. What works? What doesn't? What will elicit a positive response? What will annoy? Which of the techniques I'm trying out on my sisters or my brother will endear me to other people? Which techniques seem to alienate? Which will make me popular? Which should I avoid?

All that ran through my brain as my friend continued bemoaning the communication breakdowns with his brother. I re-played breakdown after breakdown with own my siblings from childhood, through adulthood, right up to the present day. Then my mind moved to lasting friendships I've built over those same years, friendships based on respectful communication. My final wondering: When will I stop practicing on people I love?        

A Reading Posse That Delivers

Throughout your reading life, who has had a major impact on the books you subsequently chose to read?

I've been quite fortunate over my entire reading life. Early on, both my sisters infected me with their passion for reading. Next was my wife; our shared love of literature has been a glue binding us for almost forty-six years. Then, as she grew into an adult and discerning reader, my oldest niece became the newest member of my reading posse as the century neared its end. I would guess more than a third of the novels I've read over my adult life were recommended to me by one of these four women.

I met the fifth member of my posse in 2010, soon after leaving the full-time work world. She selected the books and moderated the meetings for the first book club I ever joined. Five years later the two of us began meeting every month for a 1x1 book discussion. (February selection: Renata Adler's Speedboat, discussed on Rovos Rail as we journeyed from Pretoria, South Africa into Zimbabwe.) Because I began using a book journal in 2010 and have recorded ever since who or what directed me to a particular book, I know for sure that she has pointed me toward almost 25% of the novels or authors I've read since meeting her. How's that for a major impact? 

Of the excellent novelists introduced to me by this newest member of my reading posse, Louise Erdrich is near the top of the heap. Her evocative prose, superb storytelling skills, and memorable characters have helped me better understand the importance of bearing witness to Native American history. After finishing Four Souls (2004) - the fourth Erdrich novel I've devoured since 2010 - I realized anew how lucky I am to have a reading posse that consistently delivers. Who do you rely on like this?   

Words for the Ages: Line Twenty-Nine

"Every form of refuge has its price."

Over their long career as songwriting partners, Glenn Frey and Don Henley created many memorable songs, with lyrics almost universally well-suited to their simple but effective melodies. I know there are legions of Eagles fans among you, so I'm hoping you'll submit at least one nomination of an aphoristic Frey/Henley lyric you think is an equal to the short phrase above. Remember: Your nomination must be able to stand alone, be brief enough to be easily recalled, and it must contain a universal truth, i.e., words for the ages. 

Consider for a moment how much that phrase from Lyin' Eyes says about choices we each make throughout life. Although the "I guess" preceding that gem is necessary for the cadence of the lyrical line, those seven succinct words are the essential ones. The inescapable truth of it takes my breath away at the same time it reminds me of my missteps. What price have you paid for a refuge you chose? 

Re-Entry

"We may never pass this way again."

Although it's possible I'll get back to the continent of Africa in my remaining years, it's unlikely, especially given the number of other places I'd like to visit at least once. No matter; the last two + weeks exceeded my expectations in nearly every way. 

The food, the sights, and the companionship of our traveling companions were first rate. The history and context we got from our leader - a polymath and scofflaw in equal measure - the knowledge and expertise of our other guides, particularly the extraordinary lecture we had on David Livingstone, and the background information provided on each of the four countries we visited helped make everything we subsequently saw more meaningful. And being fully immersed in an unspoiled environment where birds and wildlife flourish was spiritually nourishing. 

Our last experience, an unplanned stop at the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg on our final day - after we'd said goodbye to our Road Scholar group - was a fitting and moving coda to this exceptional trip. As re-entry begins, I desperately want to retain the buzz I'm feeling right now. Perhaps the twenty-nine pages I captured in my journal will assist me in doing so. I hope pictures my wife took - like the one directly below - will also help. Please share with me any technique that has helped you prolong a transcendent experience. I'll try anything to keep my African adventure fresh in my mind.

    

Dispatch Near the End of an African Adventure

Big thanks to those of you who've read my recent dispatches from Africa. Bigger thanks to those who took the time to make a comment on one or more of those posts. I only wish Wi-Fi had been more consistent because every day had several moments of magic I wanted to share while they were still fresh. 

Can any picture meaningfully convey the splendor of the Chobe River separating Botswana and Namibia? Which words might help bring you close to our experience as this African adventure approaches its end? Below is the river as it looked from the porch of our cabin on the Namibia side. Chirping insects, croaking frogs, and roaring lions greeted us at night. The vibrant birdsong enchanted us on our short walk to breakfast each morning. And each trip down the river was better than the last, bringing us into close and regular contact with herds of elephants, hippos and crocodiles within yards of our boat, countless birds.

I feel fortunate to have experienced the majesty of Africa.

Fourth Dispatch: Walking Through a Rainbow

You read that correctly. Among the many highlights this trip has delivered, walking through a rainbow while at Victoria Falls yesterday is - at least right this moment - near the top of my list. However, if I'm able to get a Wi-Fi signal tomorrow, my next post could well declare something different as near the top because every day has had several moments of magic. 

Starting on the flight from Cape Town to Pretoria last Wednesday, I began asking the other sixteen folks on this journey for their highlights to date. As we left Zimbabwe earlier today and headed to our final location in Namibia, I began re-asking the same question. To the person, everyone I spoke with cited different highlights this second time around.  

The picture below, taken during our elephant walk in Hwange National Park, may help explain why it's difficult for any of us to land on a favorite highlight. Each day delivers a new treasure that ascends to the top of the list. 

Dispatch #3: District Six Museum

"Courageous people do not fear forgiving for the sake of peace."  - Nelson Mandela

Hearing an eighty-five-year-old man describing what it was like for he and his family to be forcibly re-located was difficult. Walking around the District Six Museum in Cape Town and reading the first-hand testimony of countless others who had the same experience in South Africa was more difficult. Reading the words of Nelson Mandela above - a man jailed for twenty-seven years for resisting the ludicrous laws the nation of South Africa imposed on him and every other non-white person beginning in 1948 - reminded me how far I still must travel to become a person of grace. 

I cannot begin to imagine what might have been in my heart had I been forced to endure what black people in South Africa did under apartheid. But I'm reasonably sure I would not have evolved into a man anything like Mandela. Perhaps the time I spent listening to this morning's lecture and then reading the testimony of others forced to live with the horror of apartheid might get me within striking distance of that kind of grace.          

Dispatch from the Tip of the World

No words can convey what it felt like today standing 4000 feet above sea level at the southernmost tip of Africa. The picture - inadequate as it is - will have to suffice. 

But as awestruck as I was by nearly every sight we saw today, the evening we just spent at an African restaurant in Cape Town called Gold could end up being even more memorable. As we sampled small plates featuring the cuisine of eleven different countries, our Road Scholar group was also treated to a vibrant musical feast. The drumming, the singing, and the expert marimba playing were augmented by acrobatic dancing, puppetry, and face painting. A peak experience.  

First Dispatch

You know that expression about the journey being as satisfying - or something - as the destination? Yeah, not so much when the journey involves a lot of time in airplane seats. 

Earlier today, it was hard to think of much besides a comfortable bed. The last long leg of our twenty-six hours of travel - a flight from London to Cape Town - was not unpleasant, per se. As people all around me seemed to effortlessly snooze - including my wife and two friends - I finished a book, watched Oppenheimer, listened to some music. I meditated, wrote in my journal, prolonged the two marginal meals that were served. My time in the air shouldn't have felt so elongated, right? But almost twelve sleepless hours in the same airplane seat - after being in a different airplane seat for half that long earlier, as well as anticipating what was still ahead after we landed in Cape Town - got me reflecting on the whole journey vs. destination bit. And then I began thinking about that bed, the one I'm headed for now.     

Second dispatch coming soon, if technology cooperates. Thanks for all your well wishes here, via e-mail, and on Facebook.   

 

Coming Soon: Dispatches from Africa

Much as I've thought about it, I still can't say why visiting Africa has always appealed to me. Is there a place you've always longed to visit for no readily identifiable reason? 

If my wife and I hadn't discovered Road Scholar in 2015, the trip that we begin tomorrow might not have materialized. But my long-deferred desire to visit Africa was facilitated because of Road Scholar's enticing catalogues - BTW, we get way too many of those - and our uniformly positive experiences traveling elsewhere with them. And this trip promises to be even richer because two of our friends are joining us on the adventure.

The Road Scholar itinerary tells me there will be some long gaps in Wi-Fi service. The bell curve remains open, regardless. My plan is to reflect - and share pics - from each of the four countries we'll be visiting, where possible; stay tuned. Finally, in case anyone wondered, I got the recommended vaccinations, will be drinking mostly bottled beer - such a hardship - and plan to stay a safe distance from wildlife. All this means I should be back in full-time business sometime around February 26, jetlag dependent.     

I've Got Your Number

Based on the number of comments received on two of my posts in 2022, when readers helped me count down from 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover to One After 909 using pop culture, today's challenge is in a similar vein. I hope some of you will join the fun again. 

1.) Car 96, Where Are You?

2.) Seventy-Six Trombones

3.) 66 Tears

4.) Highway 77 Revisited 

5.) Route 54

As you can see, each pop culture reference above - TV show, song, album title - has in it a number over fifty. One of the five is correct as is. Three of the five has its correct number somewhere on this list but not in the title as noted. Start by identifying the wholly correct one and then move onto transplanting the other three numbers into the correct title. This part shouldn't be too difficult, at least for baby boomers who watched some TV and/or listened to some music growing up.  

Now for the bigger challenge. One of these five has an incorrect number that is not anywhere on this list. After identifying that one and supplying the correct number for that title - another number over fifty and, that's the easier part - then take that incorrect number and put it into the title of a popular TV show from the same era. I'll wait a bit to see if any reader gets the first four right and solves both parts of the bigger challenge for the fifth item. If no one does, I'll give a clue - BTW, this TV show was very popular in its day - in a near-future post also entitled I've Got Your Number. By then, I'll likely have more of this nonsense ready to unleash on you. Obviously, no fair using Google etc. 

If any reader solves all five/six without needing the clue, great. I'll acknowledge that in a response to the comment. In that case, the second iteration of I've Got Your Number might be on its way even sooner. Either way, the fun is just beginning. 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Pop Culture Triptych: Countdown from Fifty

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Plea for More Rescuers (Start at 29, Please)

It's Back ...

Considering how many people outside of Punxsutawney ever pay attention, isn't it peculiar that of all the movies ever made about holidays few have come close to being as good as Groundhog Day?  What is your nomination for a holiday film that is the equal of Harold Ramis's goofy 1993 masterpiece?

Although I'm not a big Bill Murray fan, Groundhog Day is on the short list of films I've watched more than once. Of the several priceless bits in the movie, my favorite is probably Sonny & Cher warbling I Got You Babe on the clock radio that awakens Murray's character as he endlessly repeats February 2nd - brilliant song choice. What alternative tune would you pick as a way to aurally depict a nightmare you can't escape? My top nominations would be either one of those treacly ballads Michael Bolton screamed during his brief but painful popularity or the musical torture inflicted on us by I-get-paid-by-the-sixteenth-note Kenny G.

Musical snarkiness aside, which bit from Groundhog Day plays over and over and over in your mind? And, if you were able to repeat a single day from your life, which one would you choose?

Words for the Ages: Line Twenty-Eight

"Nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could."

Although that lyric from Fragile owes a clear debt to Gandhi's immortal wisdom about violence, it also holds its own alongside the earlier entries in this long running series. It stands alone - i.e., no rhymes or other words are necessary -  it is terse enough to be easily remembered, and it contains an essential truth. Words for the ages. 

Now about the moniker the gifted musician who wrote that lyric chose for himself when he was young. With his fame, wealth, and insularity, I suspect Gordon Sumner gives no thought to how silly it sounds hearing a seventy-something-year-old referred to as Sting. Still, I do wonder. How many times has he endured those painful but inevitable inquiries about a first name? Do you prefer Bee, Mr. Sting? Etc. 

Thankfully, dreadful puns fade. Sting's musical legacy - including his lyric above - will not. All of his recordings in my collection occupy a rare niche. Each one works in its entirety; there are no weak cuts. And, his obvious erudition has been apparent from Sting's earliest work with the Police. How many modern-day pop lyricists can you name who have cited a Nabokov novel? Not only that, he then credibly used Vlad's name in his rhyme. Stephen Sondheim would have been proud. Got a lyric by Mr. Sumner you'd like to nominate as words for the ages? No? How about a favorite song or performance? Leave the wasp and hornet jokes for when you meet him. Go ahead, I dare you.  

A William Styron Shoutout

From my earliest days as an insatiable reader, William Styron has been one of my favorite authors. In fact, even though I read The Long March almost sixty years ago, I can still recall the effect it had on me. If you have never read Styron, I strongly encourage you to try him.  

A Tidewater Morning: Three Tales from Youth could be the ideal place for any reader to begin a journey with this modern-day master. Because I began my book journals only fourteen years ago, I'm not sure if my recent reading of this slim volume from 1993 was the first. No matter. I'm confident saying all three vignettes in A Tidewater Morning will captivate and move you enough that you will be motivated to try one or more of Styron's longer novels. I'm planning to return soon to his Pulitzer Prize winner - The Confessions of Nat Turner - and many of you are likely familiar with his most well-known book, Sophie's Choice, one of that exceedingly rare breed, i.e., a great movie adapted from a great book. 

But whichever Styron book you choose to begin with, I hope you'll remember afterwards to contact me - via my blog or otherwise - and tell me about your experience. I welcome any opportunity that helps me extend the glow I derive from reading or re-reading his work. If you're already a Styron fan, please tell me how you got hooked. A conversation or an online interaction like that would make my day.  

A Decade of Crabbing

Given my disappointment with two of the blockbusters that have just received Oscar nominations, my crankiness about these over-hyped marquee films seems an ideal way to mark the first appearance of your favorite crab ten years ago. 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: A Crab Out Of Water 

Since 1/26/14, I've allowed my cantankerous coot - or a close crabby relative - to roam the bell curve on about twenty occasions. Several of those posts were aimed at a favorite easy target = technology. Not today. Instead, this cranky codger wants to know: Which of you on the bell curve has seen Maestro and Killers of the Flower Moon? If you haven't, stop reading and return here following the seven hours required to see both. Caveat emptor.   

If you have seen both, tell me this: In your view, are either of these two widely praised films deserving of the Oscar nominations they got? If your answer is no, you're aligned with this curmudgeon, a crank that even infrequent readers know is an indiscriminate movie junkie, a music devotee, and a Martin Scorsese fan. All that aside, if your answer is yes to my previous question, I have one favor to ask of you. Please refrain from recommending films to me. Thanks in advance. 

p.s. The eponymous David Grann book upon which Scorsese built his mess of a movie - the latter of the two above - is an extraordinary piece of non -fiction. It will take longer than three and one-half hours to read but you'll thank me, I think.  

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Such A Life

Survivors

Ever catch yourself reflecting on survival? Specifically, given the endless number of ways people inflict pain on each other, how do some people cope with what they've endured?  

Recently - soon after being exposed to another horror story - I began spiraling into a doom loop. To escape the cloud that engulfed me, I tried meditating, playing my guitar, surrendered to mindless TV. No luck. Even a nap didn't provide the needed respite; disturbing dreams interfered.    

All of you know the kind of stories I'm referencing here. Tell me: If you'd endured and then survived a horrific ordeal like most of us have heard or read about, what do you suppose would follow? Would the pain twist you into something dark, ensuring the cycle would continue? Or would the damage of that pain instead push you to retreat from engaging with the world? 

Perhaps you see yourself following a third path, one we've all seen frequently portrayed. These folks are shaped but not defined by their unspeakable pain. They learn, become better for the experience, and the portrayals of them are designed to inspire those of us who have never survived anything like they have as well as motivate those from similar circumstances to transcend their ordeals. Although I usually succumb to the inspirational aspect of these portrayals, I'm rarely convinced I would act so heroically. 

And that part of my waking reverie about survivors left me with more questions. How many survivors have I encountered in my life? How sensitive was I as they tried to share their stories with me? What were my differing reactions to survivors from each of the three groups, i.e., the dark, the walking wounded, the thriving? What did my reactions to each of their stories say about me as a person?      

Everything is New

Have you ever met a parent who you've never heard say their life has been richer having raised their children? If I have ever met someone like this, that person long ago disappeared from memory. How many parents have you met who name the day of their child's birth as one of the best in their life? In my experience, this is so common it's almost a cliche. But count me in, cliche or not. 

Imagining my life without my daughter is impossible. She has given me and her mother moments of nearly transcendent joy. Her light has helped me navigate several dark patches in my life. Over and over, she has shown me ways to become a better person.

Everything Is New | Patrick Barton (bandcamp.com)

Everything is new. Those three words wouldn't let me go the day my daughter was born. When I completed the song partnering with that simple phrase, I was satisfied I'd captured how those early moments of her life transformed me. Tomorrow marks thirty-five years I've been waiting for another song to visit me. But nothing has yet materialized that comes close to capturing what my daughter has brought to my life since January 19, 1989. I'll wait.

Happy birthday, sweetheart.   

Book Club Report: Year Seven

Since beginning this series in January 2018 - exactly one year after the inception of my book club - I've been pleased to get at least a few comments each year. I'm always glad to hear from members of the club and the infrequent comments from folks who are not in the club have been a nice bonus. Thanks to all. Hope some of the rest of you will chime in this year.  

The books I selected in 2023 for the No Wine or Whiners club landed in both surprising and expected ways.  I'm slowly learning to avoid trying to anticipate how any book will land and instead adhere to my only standard for selection: Does the prose clearly show the author has spent adequate time learning their craft? Anything goes with respect to subject matter, setting, tone. The author's style, reputation, or politics - past or present - do not matter. "Classic", contemporary, or in-between = all are welcome. After noting this past year's top prize for novel and non-fiction below, if you've read something you think my club will enjoy discussing, please tell me. I'll read it. If it fits my only standard, it could end up in a future queue. If it does, thank you in advance for the suggestion. 

2023's Top Prize for Novel:  Small Things Like These - Claire Keegan (2021): The club's reaction to this tiny treasure took me by surprise. In my experience, books that whisper can easily be undervalued. I was as overjoyed as I was surprised that the club warmly embraced it. 

2023's Top Prize for Non-Fiction: Rocket Boys - Homer Hickam Jr. (1998): Although I expected this straightforward memoir to land well, I did not expect the nearly universal acclaim it garnered. In fact, it was me who had perhaps the most muted reaction to it. Can't take full credit for selecting it either; it was my wife's suggestion. I read it, found the prose sturdy and unfussy, and there you go.

See you next January.  

Living History

 I was an 18-year-old college freshman on April 4, 1968, the day Martin Luther King Jr. was shot. 

I remember the day clearly. Walking across campus, the first question I thought to ask my closest black friend was if he hated me. He answered by saying something about how angry he was at white people that day but that no, he did not hate me. I recall being relieved. I was so young, so naive and I so wanted to be liked. Where were you that day? Who in your life was hit hardest by King's death?  

Years later, when the talk started about establishing a holiday in King's honor, I have an even clearer recollection. I thought - How can this be? I was alive when King was. How is it possible his historic importance escaped me? Was it because I was young and so self-centered? Or, is it because his place in the grander scheme wouldn't have been part of the conversation in my white world?

Did you know you were living history if you were alive when Martin was? I did not.

p.s. Sitting at my laptop early this morning, intending to write a post to honor King to start the day, I decided to first search my archives to see how much I'd referenced him over the years. Right after reading the four brief paragraphs above, I concluded I could do no better honoring King at seventy-four than I'd first done at sixty-two. I'm proud standing by these same words - verbatim - and ask you now to consider - or re-consider - some or all of the questions I first posed on January 15,2012 when my blog was less than a year old.         

Let's Be Sure, Shall We?

I'm confident attentive readers have noticed the six mid-January forays I've made into constitutional law, etc. Yeah, right. For the inattentive among you - no doubt interested in my savvy and prescience in matters constitutional - attached below is my first proposal, published in 2014. FYI, this is currently under consideration by Congressional committee. A simple search of my blog archive - using the word constitution or amendment - will quickly uncover my other brilliant proposals. Yeah, right (redux).

Reflections From The Bell Curve: XXVIII

In the meanwhile, given the circus that is about to unfold in this Presidential election year, it seems fitting to suggest some long-overlooked but obvious requirements for any presidential candidate. 

* An IQ test. At minimum, I'd feel much more confident if viable candidates were all empirically smarter than me, i.e., let's ensure we elect someone who resides at least above the middle of the bell curve, IQ-wise.

* A comprehensive test administered to all candidates regarding the contents of the U.S. Constitution. OK, my two amendments and the other stuff can be left out, if you insist. But seriously, isn't it time to ensure our Chief Executive actually knows the fundamental concepts upon which our nation was founded?

* Screening for Alzheimer's and other old-age, dementia-related ailments.

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Preserving The Republic (couldn't resist providing you with another link - it's connected both to my mid-January constitutional mojo and the last bullet above, I promise) 

I'll resist getting snarky by suggesting candidates have no pending criminal indictments. But please don't let my polite reticence stop you from adding to my short list. Isn't it about time we took some prudent precautions before we elect the person who has a finger on that button none of us want to think about too much? 

Bring On the Team

I genuinely appreciate and enjoy the before-song riffs Steve Van Zandt uses when introducing some of the music featured on the satellite radio station bearing his name. In particular, I like the serpentine fashion in which he strings together some of the wildly disparate elements contained in those riffs. I know a few listeners who think Steve overdoes it from time-to-time. Not me; I'm with him all the way, frequently laughing out loud.

At the same time, it's difficult for me not to be a little jealous of the research team I suspect is behind at least some of that seemingly effortless riffing. This mild jealousy visited me most noticeably while doing my own research for a recently developed music course I entitled Journey Through the Past: History Via Song. It felt like every rabbit hole I'd begin to innocently explore - connecting a song to a piece of or person from history - had no end. In particular, the three songs I picked as "epics" for the course (as one example, Al Stewart's Road to Moscow) made me yearn for my own team.

And that started me fantasizing about how cool it would be if each of us could have a research team at our ready disposal. If not as regularly as Steve Van Zandt, how about if we could have that luxury for one week a year? What week would you pick? I'd take the last week of the year. That way I'd have all year to advertise myself as a New Year's Eve party-starter, then use that last week to have my team ply me with material, enough to get the dullest party popping. How much do you think I could charge for my endlessly sparkling repartee? Hell, I'd offer a money-back guarantee. 

OK, maybe you don't want to monetize yourself like me. How about this instead? With that research team feeding you bon mots, puns, historical tidbits, and the like, imagine how well you could dazzle a potential romantic partner one week every year, predictably. Come on, tell me that's not enticing. 

Gotta Love Those Collections

Walking by any collection of "free" books is difficult for me. Doesn't matter much where I am, who I'm with, how much time I've got; almost without exception, I've got to have a look. To anyone sharing my inability to bypass these collections: What treasure did you most recently uncover in this way?

Andrew's Brain is an intriguing, inventive, thoroughly modern novel. Though unsure how this 2016 gem by E.L. Doctorow escaped my attention, I suppose that's reason enough to be grateful for my compulsive need to peruse these ragtag collections. After all, I've been enthralled with Doctorow since finishing Ragtime upon its 1975 release and this late title in his oeuvre is yet another example of his massive ambition as an author. Over a long career, Doctorow tackled a dizzying array of subjects, always with an eye toward the possibilities of the novel as an art form. In this experiment, he tells the story by using a dialogue involving Andrew - a man beset by unspeakable tragedy - and an unnamed interlocutor who may be Andrew's psychiatrist or his jailer or both. 

Andrew's Brain is an early 21st journey - including 9/11 and the subsequent and futile search for those weapons of mass destruction - meticulously constructed marvel by a modern-day master. Many of my favorite authors have disappointed me at least once; not Doctorow.

Endlessly Re-Training the Brain

The brain is an exquisite pattern-making machine. And the more I learn about creative pioneers, the better I understand how important it is to challenge those reflexive patterns regularly.

While roaming through Taliesin West, listening to an audio narration describing architect Frank Lloyd Wright's creative process, I was simultaneously inspired and disheartened. The inspiration compelled me to take notes in the hope that small pieces of Wright's process might find a way into my own.  

The disheartening came as I reflected on how easily the brain can box us into reflexive thinking. For example, when you envision a swimming pool, what shape does your mind's eye see? Because most of us see a rectangle does not mean we are not innately creative. My years of studying creativity has taught me that our brains, having seen many rectangular swimming pools, will reflexively re-create a rectangle. If we want to harness our creativity more completely, we must intentionally force ourselves to see different shapes, hear different sounds, use different textures, i.e., break patterns. 

Wright envisioned a triangular swimming pool. This happened in part because while looking at the spot he'd selected for the pool, he let his eyes take in the background. Consequently, his design for the pool mirrored the triangular shape of the Arizona mountainside behind the spot he'd selected. This is an elegant example of someone challenging the exquisite pattern-making machine that is the brain, a machine that reflexively warns when a saber-toothed tiger is nearby at the same time that it boxes in the innate creativity residing in us. 

Sit in a different place each time you're in church. Park in a new spot on each visit to the gym, favorite coffee shop, friend's home. Put your pants on left leg first instead of right for two days or weeks or months, and then return to right leg first. Notice how breaking any mindless pattern makes you feel. After trying that, move next to breaking patterns as you paint, take photographs, write songs. Then after trying that, return here and tell me and others how doing so opened a creative door for you.

Stop - Start - Continue: 2024

What is one thing you plan to stop doing as the new year begins? One thing you plan to start doing? Something you'll continue doing?

Each New Year's Day since 2012, I've asked you to join me in this exercise. And it's been gratifying to hear from more than a few of you that the stop - start - continue model has been helpful. In my experience, doing this instead of making a single new year's resolution increases the likelihood of sustainable success. In particular, the continue piece is affirming because - as each new year begins - I'm reminding myself of a new or longstanding practice I've already integrated into my life that has been beneficial. 

In 2024, I will stop adding any new writing vessels into my life. Juggling these vessels has started to get a little out of hand.     

In 2024, I will start taking guitar lessons with a local jazz guitarist I met in 2023. 

In 2024, I will continue the regimen established with my start pledge of 2022, i.e., consistently exercising four days a week. 

Avoid getting bogged down if you struggle coming up with a stop, start, and a continue for 2024. Instead, do just two of the three. Or, at minimum, take a moment and tell me and others just what you plan to continue. What's the downside to simply congratulating yourself for a past success as a new year begins?