Saturday, July 9, 2022

The Happiest Days, Part 1

The happiest period of my life was, without a doubt, my 10th grade year in Marina, California. And the happiest part of that year was from about March to June. It took me a long time to understand what made it so good, because there was more than one thing.

The first thing that made that time so happy was that I was experiencing almost complete freedom. I had all the money I needed, which wasn’t a lot in 1976 - comic books, about the only thing I bought for myself - only cost a quarter. I earned money by working at the 7-11 on Reservation Road, owned by Jim and Linda. I also had all of the benefits of being taken care of with almost none of the problems. In other words, I didn’t live with my family and that was another type of freedom. My mom, in an act of awareness and kindness, arranged for me  to live with John and Joan Eich (and their son Tommy), so I could finish out the year (and the school play A Date with Judy). For reasons I won’t go into here, it was a huge relief to not have to deal with my parents (especially my mom, despite this kindness) every day. Joan was my mom’s co-worker at The Monterey Herald, and I would babysit their son Tommy. Tommy and I would watch wrestling on TV and then we would pretend we were the wrestlers and then he would happily go to bed and I would happily read some comic books. The house was always cold perhaps because the Eichs wanted to save on their gas and electric bill in the midst of the Energy Crisis. But the Eichs knew and liked me so they were happy to host me for a few months. 

When I wasn’t home, I would walk around Marina. Just walk. I would think up comic book stories and just enjoy being free. Sometimes I would walk to Ralph and Diane’s apartment. Diane said I was like a son (though in fact they were only nine years older). But mostly I would just walk around. It was a small town, but there were four different places to buy comic books off the spinner rack (this was before comic-book stores were as available) - the Food Corral, Stop-and-Shop, Rexall’s, and 7-11 - so I always had somewhere to go, but nowhere I had to go.

School was the second reason this was such a happy time. I went to Seaside High School and it was only the third year I stayed in the same school for an entire school year. Every morning I would walk a fair distance to be at the same bus stop as my best friend Rudy. Rudy and I had our last three classes together. We had different math classes for Period 1 and for Period 2, he had Photography and I had Psychology, and for Period 3 I had Science Fiction and I don’t remember what he had. On the second half of the day we shared PE, General Business, and Journalism. After school I went to rehearsals for the school play A Date with Judy. I played the character of the annoying little brother Randolph, complete with a squeaky pre-adolescent voice. (That voice was my own brainstorm and kept me from getting dropped from the cast.) Judy was played by Cindy who was Rudy’s girlfriend. Cindy’s best friend Patty was also in the play.

After rehearsal I’d take the late bus home. I’d take some good-natured teasing from friends about the size of my nose or notice the shape of clouds (one time I was reminded of Jesus breaking the bread) or read whatever book or magazine I had on hand. The bus rides home were fun and the song I associate most with those rides was Still Crazy after All These Years by Paul Simon.

I was free and I had friends. It was a nearly perfect time.

And it had to end. It took me a long time to realize it had to end and the lack of that realization caused me problems for a long time. But it had to end and, thank God, it did.


 

A Practice Blog

 Tomorrow Is a New Day


It’s almost July 4 and I haven’t written about freedom in days. I was so diligent and then I fell off and I don’t know why. I could easily come up with all kinds of excuses…being busy, celebrating my birthday, being tired, being scared. They’re all true, but the last reason especially. I am sure I have nothing to say. I am reading a lot and that’s good. I'm also writing in my personal journal, but I haven’t written anything for this book in five days! I’m writing a book about freedom, but without self-discipline there is no freedom and there will be no book. This is a hard truth.

In my head, I write every day. Every day. Without fail. I’d even be happy with five days a week with weekends off, as if this were an actual paying job. But I can’t afford to take five days off from writing this book. The other day someone told me that my inability to sleep without medication (which started during the pandemic) is because I need to get out of my place and to the same place every day - a coffee shop or a library, perhaps - and work there. That might not also help me with my sleep issues, but maybe, just maybe, being in a different place, a place I have to walk to, a place that is quiet, might give me the structure I need in order to write on a consistent basis. Although tomorrow is July 4, I could still get up early, go to the gym, come home, have breakfast and shower, and then go to a coffee shop and work. I’d rather go to the library, but it will be closed for the holiday. Tonight, after writing here, I could pack my lunch and book bag in preparation for the morning.

“Tomorrow is a new day.” That can be an excuse for not doing work today or it can be a beacon of hope. Tomorrow will be a new day and every new day is a new chance. 

Steven Pressfield writes in The War of Art, “Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There never was a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny. This second we can turn the tables on Resistance. This second, we can sit down and do our work.”

Pressfield also says, “The more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.”

I am scared of this project, but I’m more scared of not finishing. I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing. I feel like I’m being presumptuous and foolish and that I’m wasting my time and that nobody likes me and nobody will read it and that I should be looking for a “real” job. But then I look at the state of the country and how it’s sliding into totalitarianism and I have a gift of writing and I have the time to read a book a week and I’m great at summarizing ideas and synthesizing them into my own and I don’t want my kids to live in Nazi America, so I have to do something even if it’s to write a book that nobody will read. I have to be able to say I at least tried.

Today someone told me that this country has been in this shape before and we will either bounce or go splat. I want to see our country bounce back into full freedom for everyone. Tomorrow does not seem like a new day for this country, but an older and much harsher day. I want to help make tomorrow a new day.