Dirty Laundry

Heat Waves, Richard Russo, and Wonderful Librarians

Just back from another sunset bike ride.  If you’ve never done it, I highly recommend it.  Watching the light seep from the sky, the sun staining the clouds pink and orange.  Gotta love it.

It’s very hot here on the West Coast of Canada.  Hotter than I think it’s ever been in the eight years I lived here.  It’s San Fernando Valley hot.  Which is the kind of thick, drag you down, smack you across the face, feels-like-your-wearing-wet-wool, sweat-running-down-the-back-of-your-T-shirt kind of heat that I simply don’t miss anymore.  Apparently, though, its come for a visit.  All the fans and air conditioning units in all the hardware stores are gone.  Everyone’s swimming in the ocean and though I live near the ocean there doesn’t seem to be that friendly sea breeze everyone’s always talking about.  Well, not everyone.  And not always.  If that’s what everyone was always talking about I think you’d get pretty sick and tired of hearing about sea breezes.  Especially when there doesn’t seem to be one.  What was I talking about again?

Anyway, so I’m 3/4 of the way through the new Richard Russo book.  For those of you who do not know, Richard Russo is my all-time-favorite author (of all time).  Yup, he’s that good.  I love the characters he creates, their backstories, how real they seem.  How familiar.  And although he breaks the cardinal rule of writing (show don’t tell) all the time, I still love him.  He can get away with it.  Because what he’s telling you is so damn interesting.  So, as I was saying, I’m 3/4 of the way through his new book “That Old Cape Magic” which I got as a signed galley at Book Expo this year (one of the highlights, though there were many).  The book is fantastic.  I am always wary when I start one of his books because I worry that it won’t live up to his previous efforts.  But this one does (at least so far).  I’m planning on finishing it later tonight.  I highly recommend you buy it when it’s released (some time in August).  It’s shorter than his previous books which I like because he usually takes five or six years to release a new book and this one, which is maybe 1/3 the size of his other books came out only two years after “Bridge of Sighs” (also excellent).  You can do the math.  1/3 the size, 1/3 the amount of time between books.

Also, I want to thank everyone who has written to me about Swim the Fly.  I just got another email from a librarian today and it made my day (it did, honest).  I have been hearing a lot from librarians about the book.  Many, many of them have been championing it, which I am incredibly appreciative for.  I met so many wonderful librarians at Book Expo.  They truly are the keepers of the light.  So passionate about books.  I am ever grateful for all their support and for everyone who supports libraries around the world.  They are vital to the community.  I know mine was to me (The Hicksville Public Library).  I have wonderful memories of scouring the shelves for my favorite authors as a child.  The enveloping smell of all those loved books.  I specifically remember how excited I was when I found a copies of “Harry Cat’s Pet Puppy” and “Tucker’s Countryside,” two sequels to one of my favorite books “The Cricket in Times Square” (by George Selden, not Richard Russo). 

Anyway, I just wanted to say how much I appreciate your emails.  Don’t ever hesitate to write.

And now, I’m off to finish “That Old Cape Magic.”

Posted by Don Calame on 7.30.09 at 08:53 pm in Prattlings. (0) Comments

Bike Riding and Lightning Storms in the Distance

I started riding a bike again.  Actually, I started riding a bike again… again.  My wife and I dipped our toes in the bike riding world a few months ago when we were living in downtown Vancouver.  To give the dogs a nice bout of exercise.  It’s been quite some time since I actually rode a bike.  It’s odd the things you take for granted.  Like riding a bike for example.  Or that saying “it’s like riding a bike.”  Well, I’m here to tell you it’s totally true.  You don’t forget.  I’d have to say it’s been a good ten years (and maybe more) since I hopped on a ten speed (now a 27 speed???).

I used to work at a bike store when I was a teenager.  My brother got me the job.  I had to learn how to put together a bike from many many pieces.  I needed to learn how to true wheels and adjust brakes and change inner tubes.  It was a real education.  It served me quite well, actually.  When I first moved out to Los Angeles I needed to get a job quick and the only real skill I had (besides writing, and it wasn’t exactly a honed skill at the time) was building and repairing bikes.  And so I got a job at this place called Palms Cycle.  I don’t even know if it still exists.  But it paid the bills for an entire summer. 

Anyway, I’ve taken a detour.  I was going to talk about how I just bought a new bike because we have moved to a peaceful little community that begs for you to ride a bike around the streets.  I want to say that they are flat and well paved but since I’ve ridden around them the past few days I can attest to the fact that there are portions of the streets that are quite hilly and not so well paved.  I don’t know why I think you’d even care about this.  It’s just riding a bike, for Christ’s sake.  But I find it interesting, rediscovering old interests. 

Speaking of which, I nearly went mildly insane at a street fair today.  I almost broke down and purchased all the old LPs I gave away twenty years ago.  (I was just about to explain what LPs are because I realize there are several generations now who have never listened to music on a record player, but I’m not going to go there.  If you don’t know, Google it.)  Anyway, I was getting all nostalgic about these records.  Mostly because of the record sleeves and the album art and the lyrics.  It used to be such a part of buying an album.  Something that doesn’t exist anymore.  My friend Ron said he just bought a turntable and has been buying records again.  So maybe that had something to do with it, as well.  I gave myself an internal slap to the face before I succumbed, though.  I don’t need any albums.  I don’t need to buy a turntable.  I’m trying to remove things from my life, not add weight to it.

Finally, my stepson and I had a really nice day together.  We went to a street fair (see above) and we played fetch with our dogs and later in the evening we watched Robert DeNiro on Inside the Actor’s Studio and then spent a good chunk of time outside watching a lightning storm in the distance.  It was like free fireworks.  I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.  Lightning bolts criss-crossing the sky.  Creating all sorts of patterns,  Lighting up the clouds.  It went on and on.  We watched as the storm swept off out of sight.  On our left was an amazingly orange and red sunset and to our right this dark, brooding, and incredibly beautiful lightning storm.  I know I’m supposed to be a writer and all, but there is simply no way to describe it that would do it justice.

And so, I’ll stop…

Posted by Don Calame on 7.25.09 at 11:47 pm in Prattlings. (0) Comments

Pickpocketed at Disneyland

Forgive me blogees for I have (I want to say sinned but that seems much too harsh) transgressed.  It has been several weeks since my last blog entry.  This sounds like the start of a confession, which, I guess, is what blogging is all about.  If done properly.  Though I am never one to do things “the right way.”  A proper blogger would write daily but I am a slow writer and a slow reader and, thus, a slow blogger. 

The self-help gurus would say that this is “negative speak” and therefore a self-fulfilling prophecy.  I should be saying “I am a fast writer”  “I am a fast reader”  “I am a fast blogger.”  I should be repeating this to myself in the mirror.  So that I program my mind for the positive rather than the negative.  The funny thing is, I believe that.  I believe that you can alter your habits if you try hard enough.  Focus on the positive.  Doesn’t mean I practice this.  Just that I believe it to be true.  Which makes me, what?  A hypocrite?  A fool?  Lazy? 

I have been busy unpacking boxes (the move was officially official two Mondays ago).  Also, been writing like a maniac.  But the move has been good.  Cleansing.  The new place is peaceful.  Once all the chaos has calmed it will be a good writing place, I know it.  A good living place.  It’s already started feeling that way.  Like home.  Which is fast for only being here one week.  I know I moved here two weeks ago but we spent a week at Disneyland (a graduation gift to my step-son). 

And so, I get to the subject of the title of this blog.  Yes, I was the idiot who carried his wallet loaded down with cash and all of his credit cards and most of his ID in the back pocket of his loose shorts so that any five-year-old could lift it right out without me noticing.  Crowded summer amusement parks where you are bumping into people all of the time are great places to get your wallet taken.  I should know this.  I am alway super paranoid about my “stuff.”  I always carry my wallet in my front pocket when I visit NYC.  Or leave it in the hotel room and just carry cash.  And cash in several pockets so I can hand over a nice wad of bills to any mugger and still keep my ID (because that is the biggest hassle of all - losing money sucks but the time spent having to replace all your credit cards and drivers license and health cards, etc, etc. is the big pain in the ass).  I am the guy who checks the doors to make sure they are locked several times every night.  Put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the hotel room every time I go out.  Leave the television on so it will sound like someone is in the room.  Hide my passport in my dirty clothes rather than the safe because I’ve had money stolen from hotel safes before.  They might go into the safe, but will they venture into my dirty socks and underwear?  That is my logic, anyway.

And still, I carried my wallet in my back pocket on Space Mountain and California Screamin’ and The Haunted Mansion and the Grizzly River Run rides.  And when I went to reach for my money to pay for my Bengal Barbecue Beef Skewer, there was no wallet to be found.  My heart did a Tower-of-Terror plummet with the realization.  Suddenly I hated all of humanity.  I pictured the ass goblin who was going through my wallet with glee at the score he (or she) had made.  I went on a tear calling up my bank, my wife calling up the credit cards, and having everything cancelled, cancelled, cancelled. 

It takes me some time to come down from things like this.  My anger, frustration, self-flogging sticks in my throat like a burr.  I am a slow recoverer.  (“I am a fast recoverer”  “I am calm under stress” “I let go of anger easily”)  And so, once all the business of having something stolen was taken care of (filing a report, canceling the cards, eating my now-cold beef skewer) I spent the next several hours going over the entire scenario a few dozen more times.  Because there’s nothing like reliving a violating experience like that over and over again. 

Anyway, I’m home now.  The last of the pieces having to be picked up.  Licenses to be reapplied for.  Phone calls to make.  That sort of thing.  Content that everything else on the trip went right.  Our boy had a great time.  We did too.  Our planes landed safely.  None of the rides derailed.  No food poisoning.  Or life threatening things.  Just a wallet. Stolen.  Replaceable.  Life is still good.

 

Posted by Don Calame on 7.17.09 at 07:58 am in Prattlings. (0) Comments