Someday

April 17 is the day I knew I'd met my life partner. 

Forty-eight years ago today, she and I had our first real date. That date was preceded by an impromptu visit to a diner for late-night coffee on the night we met at a local bar near her home where I was doing a solo gig. At the diner, I asked her for a real date on my next night off, April 17. When she said yes, I was buzzing. And I remained in a state of heightened anticipation through the days leading up to our date. 

On April 17, as soon as she climbed into my VW van, I could smell her shampoo. Later at dinner I casually asked what brand she used. Her answer - "Whatever is in the shower at the time" - charmed me beyond reason. A mundane first date question met with an unguarded response; no pretense. 

After dinner, we went to hear a local musician play at a bar, doing a solo act much like my own. At this point, having spent less than ten hours together - including the diner, our dinner, and time at the bar - I was smitten and knew my life had changed. I said to her - "Someday I'm going to marry you". I don't recall her response. But she looked neither scared nor shocked. 

We've now been side-by-side since April 17, 1978. She has never let me forget we didn't get married until September 17, 1983. My only defense? I did say "Someday".   

An Assist from Jenny Wingfield Et Al

For more than forty years, my rationale for not re-watching movies - even those I loved the first time - was straightforward. I didn't want to spend hours in a redundant passive state. Such can be the curse of a goal-driven person. I don't claim to have never wasted precious hours re-watching an old favorite but it was rare and I was never tempted to purchase videocassettes just to have a standby on hand.  

Having more hours to myself after leaving the full-time work world as well as having a daughter in the film industry were two factors that moved me toward abandoning my longstanding resistance to re-watching movies. But the single factor that most persuaded me that re-watching films could be a productive use of my time was a deepening appreciation for the art of screenwriting. As I re-watched more movies, I began to see the way that first-rate screenwriting could help me as an aspiring writer, perhaps as much as great literature can. And I saw a clear link between how the concision of a great script contributes to movie magic and how a similar concision could aid me in my blog. Of course, it's possible I've simply constructed a neat rationalization for spending more time in front of a screen. But I don't think so.

When I recently re-watched The Man in the Moon (1991) for the first time since its theatrical release, the words of the perfectly realized script landed for me in a profoundly different way than they did thirty-five years ago. As the closing credits rolled, one thought wouldn't let me go. There was not a single false note in this coming-of-age film. Was Director Robert Mulligan's artistry on display? Without question. Were the central performances - including Reese Witherspoon in her film debut - nearly flawless? They were. 

But without the words of screenwriter Jenny Wingfield, all the other important elements that made this an extraordinary experience - twice - might have added up to a less satisfying whole. I may not improve as a writer having now been witness to Wingfield's words, twice. On the other hand, how can exposing myself more than once to her kind of artistry hurt me as a writer?

Atlas Riffing: Where Interest & Quirkiness Intersect

In grammar school I really enjoyed geography, which in my day was a subset of social studies. Remember that boomers? I don't recall ever telling peers that geography turned me on, probably because back then it wasn't considered a cool subject. Still, looking back it's easy for me to trace a clear line from my childhood enjoyment of geography to my adult interest in other cultures, my love of travel, and many of the quirky projects I've initiated throughout my life, like trying to sample the cuisine of as many countries in the world as possible. 

Where my enduring interest in geography and my quirkiness intersect is in a post full-time work habit I've dubbed Atlas riffing. When this habit will take control of me is not predictable, though books and movies are inclined to set me off. If a book or a film takes place in some unfamiliar locale, off the shelf comes my Atlas. So far, so good, right? I'm curious where in the world a story is taking place. I suspect many of you bookworms and film buffs might do something similar, perhaps with your phones. 

But once I step inside my Atlas, all bets are off. At that point, any casual observer watching you scrolling your phone vs. me Atlas riffing would clearly know which of us needs medication. I've lost count how many times over the past sixteen years I've riffed in that Atlas for several hours, bouncing from page to page like a deranged, happy pinball, all the while making fevered, frequently inscrutable annotations. On occasion, my Atlas riffing has gotten way out of hand in circumstances unconnected to books or films. For example, when mention is made of a less familiar country in casual conversation while I'm at home, it's difficult to suppress my immediate desire to grab the Atlas, which occupies a prominent place in the reference section of our over-stuffed bookshelves. If I do succumb, I try not to be rude via limiting my riffing time; sometimes I succeed. I also try not to appear obsessed while doing so. Another work in progress.  

Which quirky habit will you confess here? What got you started down that particular quirky road? Can you trace a line - as I have - from your current quirkiness to an interest developed early in life?

My Choice

The more I reflect on my recent experiences travelling through Spain, the more convinced I am that humankind will avoid what Elizabeth Kolbert and others have termed the sixth extinction.

I'm not naive. And I'm also not immune to being regularly discouraged by the disinformation campaign of climate change deniers and their mindless minions. But when I consider how endlessly inventive and ingenious people can be, I sincerely believe there's room for hope even if - as most scientists routinely tell us - we've passed the point of no return. 

If the Romans conceived and then built aqueducts that stand two thousand years later, if Antoni Gaudi envisioned Sagrada Familia - and disciples completed it over the next one hundred and fifty years - and if Guernica is still moving people to fight the good fight almost ninety years after Pablo Picasso created it, I submit that minds much greater than mine will find a way to help us mitigate our environmental misdeeds. 

In many ways, our natural world has already been irreversibly damaged. Succumbing to hopelessness is understandable. I choose to instead have faith in the limitless intelligence of humankind.

Reversing My 2026 Book Slump

Though I'm not obsessive enough to have kept track, over the fifteen+ years since the inception of my blog, I'd estimate about 20% of my 2600 + published posts have featured books that have moved me enough that I decided to promote them here. Those of you who have been regular readers for a while: Would you say that's about right? Assuming my estimate is close, it appears 2026 has begun with a bit of a book slump. Of thirty-four posts published thus far this year, less than a handful have featured worthwhile books I've finished since January. 

Soon after noting this downward trend on my blog, a quick review of my current book journal as well as some stats from Goodreads confirmed my suspicion. Not only have I finished fewer books over the first three months of this year vs. previous years - easy to spot via looking at earlier journals - but several of the finished ones have been serious duds. And I also gave up on others, another metric easy to track because of the comprehensive analytics Goodreads provides. It's a slump all right but it's one I plan to reverse effective immediately. A few strategies:

* Start being even more ruthless about what ends up on my list, especially with non-fiction titles.

* Rely more on authors who have rarely let me down, an easy fix via using those book journals. 

* Return to reading more when I'm fresh in the a.m. and keeping a closer eye on my monthly goal.

How about you? What have been your strategies when you've been in a book slump?

Timing Can Be Everything

It's taken me a lifetime to fully internalize the simple yet essential truth that timing can be everything.

Near the end of Sentimental Value, there's a conversation between the two sisters who are the centerpiece of this Oscar nominee for best film of 2025. A lifetime of witnessing the bond between my own sisters no doubt contributed to the impact that scene had on me. However, if I hadn't returned last night to watch this particular movie end-to-end several weeks after initially dismissing the first half as "sleepy", it's likely I'd have held onto my first misguided impression about it. End result: I would have bypassed an exceptional film and never experienced the emotional catharsis of that perfectly realized scene.     

How often have you been mystified when someone doesn't share your enthusiasm for a movie, a book, or piece of music that floored you? I cannot begin to count how many times this has happened to me. At this juncture in my long life, I sincerely believe that level of mismatched enthusiasm is connected to timing. Embracing the simple truth that timing can be everything has rewarded me in a few ways, including an improved ability to accept inevitable mismatches and move on without mischaracterizing someone else's views or elevating my own. I've shifted from thinking of mismatches as differences of opinion. As often as not, I'm now convinced it's a matter of timing.  

These days, when someone whose opinion I value raves about something - as was the case with Sentimental Value - I'm willing to give that something a second chance. I count my newfound willingness to do that as another reward connected to this simple yet essential truth. 

"When a student is ready, a teacher appears."  - Buddha

A Cocktail and a Conundrum

Having a good memory has come in handy a lot for me. This has been true across several domains of my life, e.g., with music, in relationships, for learning, I'm grateful for this particular trait. 

Here's the rub. Sometimes, I can be a little thin skinned. So when someone says something that hurts my feelings, which is not that hard to do, I tend to remember it for a long time. A friend of mine used to refer to this propensity as being part of my "Irish discourse". But because I'm the 7th generation on my Father's side - the Irish part of my heritage - to be born in the U.S., I'm not inclined to accept ethnic explanations. To me it just seems like I remember too much. Which two traits of yours when combined add up to an unpleasant cocktail like these two of mine do? What are your strategies for working around your cocktail? What suggestions do you have for me?

Forgive & forget? I've gotten a bit better at the forgive part of that equation as I've gotten older. The forget part? Got myself a little conundrum there, don't I?

Re-entrada de Hoy

After unpacking, checking your mail, and throwing away the science projects in your refrigerator, what are a few of the things you routinely do following an extended period away from a casa? 

Although my re-entry varies slightly depending on how long I've been away, for a while now there have been several consistent elements. Attending to the below between jet-lag required naps hoy was satisfying.  

* Re-calibrated my goals to accommodate the time just spent away. Berating myself for not getting to goals while away is a surefire way to diminish experiences I just had. Better to re-calibrate and continue to enjoy the brillo of those new experiences for as long as possible. 

* Tried to capture the spirit of my travel via retrospective journalling. Writing a few postscript palabras about most of the days is usually adequate. I avoid simply listing what I did and aim instead for what I felt or who I was with when a specific travel experience moved me. 

* Added a pushpin to the world mapa we have hanging in our hallway of places we've visited.

* Moved into my blog notebook the random jottings I made while away. This re-entry rutina - new since the 2011 inception of my blog - has become essential to me. The act of transcribing any jottings - tiny kernels of inspiration that pummel me whenever I travel - can later morph into something useful, e.g., un lirico, the beginnings of a story, an idea for a new course, a blog post. This magpie travel-related habit has become a crucial component in my creative matrix.

Y tu? 

Gracias a mi esposa por traducir.