A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON MY WAY TO …
In reviewing this past weeks posts it seems there is a recurrent theme of reflection. I am not sure if that is the result of recent discussions abut friends lost this past year or that another birthday is fast approaching, which means fifty is disappearing from view in the rear view mirror and sixty is looming at the top of the hill.
More than likely it is a combination of these things and the approaching completion of another book, my sixth. The only consistent theme of my childhood was books and a dream of some day being a writer and as a result the completion of each book and the publication of another article means I am one step closer to fulfilling that dream.
See, in my world a successful writer is one who derives their entire income from transforming mere words on paper into three dimensional pictures that enable the reader to see, touch, taste, and smell the subject. Another determination in what constitutes a successful writer is that with the income earned from these endeavors he, or she, is able to eat at least every other day. I still have a day job.
Now, I can expalin the title for today’s post in a manner that might make sense. Or it just might make you smile and be a little more thankful for the day job.
A funny thing happened on the way to becoming a writer. I think it started in about 1966 when we moved to the desert of Arizona.
All of this creates a distorted, disjointed sort of view. In my minds eye I am just an average Joe, a working stiff with an ability to tell folks where to go that works long hours to keep beans on the table, gas in the tank, and the lights on at home.
I have not worn a tie in thirty years, own nothing but boots for foot wear, and prefer long walks in the desert with my dearest friend over a trip to Disneyland or Las Vegas. We enjoy the quiet places and finds towns with more than one stop light a bit uncomfortable.
Then someone from Finland or Boise will take a break from their Route 66 adventure, stop in the office, and ask that I sign a copy of a book. Then I will receive a request for an interview from a television producer or Esquire magazine. These are the things that bring me up short, these are the things that provide a deeper understanding of those who live a double life. These are the things that make me stop and say, “Who? Me?”
If I had not learned this lesson through things such as having a job where the port a john was repossessed for lack of payment how would I be able to laugh about missing a phone call from Jay Leno, three times. Without a sense of humor honed through years of odd ball twists and turns how would I be able to smile about finding two rejection notices and a new book contract in the same mail box?
The Jay Leno story is merely the latest in this joke with a never ending punch line. The first time he called was the day after I missed him at a book signing. When he called to thank me for a magazine, I was in Burbank.
The second time he called, my caller ID led me to believe it was my son’s mother in law, not a phone call I really wanted to take at 9:30 in the evening. The third call was missed as a series of unusual delays that resulted in getting home five hours late.
I have also learned that on occasion opportunity is persistent. In this case Mr. Leno and I finally talked and the offer was made to tape an interview for the book club segment of his Jay Leno’s Garage website. Now, we need to coordinate a schedule.
Well, as I often say at the end of a post, stay tuned for details. Meanwhile, the adventure into the unknown continues.
At this juncture, I would like to say thank you. Thank you for the encouragement, the ideas, the assistance, and the support. Thank you for sharing this grand adventure and helping to make a geeky kids dreams a reality.