Published May 30, 2015
James Stewart is the protagonist in “Harvey,” the 1950 film in which our man Elwood P. Dowd’s best friend is a 6-foot-3½ invisible rabbit, a pooka. This causes concern in Elwood’s family. Is it the booze? Is he crazy?
There are several ways to find posts you’ve not seen before, or retrace your steps to one you’ve already read. These options exist so you can navigate the site in whatever way suits you best.
The menu buttons at the top of pages are mapped to specific types of content. About takes you to more info about me and the site. Blog is a category link to posts designated as such. Long Form is in development, so it doesn’t yet link to content (but here’s a brief explanation of what’s to come). Extras are discoverable several ways, and the drop-down menu below that button contains category links to Audio, Coolest Thing I Learned Today, Movie Quote Stuck in My Head, and What I Am Reading.
The Search the Site tool on the sidebar on the right side of pages, below the Subscribe tool, lets you find posts by keyword, phrases or subject line. Type in a word or two, and you’ll see a drop-down list of search results. Click on the appropriate one.
Categories are just that, in the parlance of WordPress, and they are listed on the sidebar, below the search tool. Click on a category to see every post with its designation.
Below that you’ll find Recent Posts, a clickable list of the past few entries on the site.
Farther down, below my Twitter section, you’ll see Monthly Archives of all content. You can look for posts this way if you prefer.
Below that, Tags give you another way to find potential areas of interest. Clicking on the memory tag will take you to a list of all posts that touch on that theme in some way. The same list of tags is also at the bottom of most pages.
A button on the lower left of most pages takes you back to the top of and refreshes the Home page.
My ideas for the website don’t align with the typical WordPress approach, but I hope I’ve given you enough ways to find what you’re looking for. Suggestions and other comments are always welcome. Please note the Contact button at the top of most pages.
Thank you for stopping by.
Published May 13, 2015
As “Mad Men” fans await the series finale Sunday, I’ve reflected on seven seasons’ worth of powerful moments. After the dust has settled following the final episode, I’ll have more to say about a lightning-bolt moment for me in “Severance,” the eighth episode of Season 7, but today I wanted to flash back to a scene from the 10th episode, “The Forecast.”
After taking Sally and her friends to dinner, Don drops them off at the Greyhound bus station. As soon as the images in this screen shot appeared on my TV, I was floored by immediately being able to smell the scene, diesel fuel and all. This was unexpected, and it derailed my seamless viewing of the show so much that I had to play back everything from that scene forward once I regained my sense of the present. In that moment, I’d been transported back to every Greyhound bus I’d ever ridden on, and every bus station, in some sort of visually provoked compressed composite memory.
Or did one particular bus ride or depot become exhumed, rushing to the fore from some deep trench in my mind’s archives because of that visual stimulation? I didn’t know.
Quick links to the Extras subcategories:
Lately, I’ve been rereading “Still Life With Woodpecker.” 
A long time ago, I read it, before I knew I’d make a career out of writing (and editing). Ah, words, and the sometimes maddening practice of putting one in front of another, and then another, and the elusiveness they have just when you think you’ve got them all, and in the right order. Sitting at a keyboard, typing, or backspacing, possibly sitting on the delete key, and starting from scratch. (Sometimes you have to destroy the story to save it.)
I remember reading the beginning of Tom Robbins’ third novel, published in 1980, and having my eyes opened. Wow, you can write any way you want to. It doesn’t have to be the way they taught you in grade school.
From time to time I’ll post something for you to listen to, and this is where you’ll be able to find it. Until next time, please enjoy this Pacific Northwest drizzle as it falls onto the trees and spills onto my deck. You might even hear the faint sound of planes arriving or departing from PDX a few miles away.
Published May 10, 2015
Today is Mother’s Day, the ninth since my mom died. She’s in my thoughts often, but especially in May. Her birthday is eight days away as I write this, and as the weather gets warmer every year around this time, I’m reminded of 2006, when she left home for the hospital in April and never went back home. She died that July.
It’s easy on sad days to get drawn into remembering the end, but it’s heartwarming and a comfort when I remember funny stories (she had a sneaky kind of humor, and sarcasm), or I recall the details of moments perhaps a bit out of character (or so it seemed at the time).
One night when I was young, as she was preparing to cook dinner, she dropped a pot or pan on the floor, and — unaware that I had come into the room, behind her — she blurted out a single word in frustration. Then, realizing I was there, she said more softly, “I mean ‘shoot.’ ”
So that’s what she meant
After my father died, my mom didn’t date, and as far as I know, she never seriously considered it. If she ever commented on a man’s attractiveness, I don’t remember it. “Handsome” would have been the extent of it, I suppose. So I was tickled when, about a decade after my dad’s death, I visited my mom as she was watching “Pretty Woman” on television, and there was a mention of sharp-dressed Richard Gere. “He looks very mature,” my mom said, perhaps comparing his appearance to how he looked earlier in his career, such as in “An Officer and a Gentleman.” (Sidebar: My mother said “mature” with a hard “t” rather than pronouncing it “machure.” She also liked to say “sharp” in reference to a man’s attire, especially if she had bought me an item of clothing and thought it looked nice on me.)
I’m not sure how long it took me to realize it, but it dawned on me that “he looks very mature” was the closest my mom could come to saying, “Oh, he’s hot.”
Photo by Sergieiev
Published May 7, 2015
There are several formidable challenges in my writing and editing life right now. One that’s surely on display here, despite my best efforts, is the difficulty I am having editing my thoughts as I work to put them into words.
When I decided to start blogging again, which led to the creation of this site (which will eventually feature much more than a blog), I promised myself the blog would not be a place where I felt the need to make sure the writing was always “tight.” But even given the relaxed editing standards I’ve allowed myself here in the early stages, I see how bloated my first drafts have been. That’s one of the dangers of not having written regularly in a few years, and of not having an editor. My writing has lost muscle tone, and I always had the tendency to be a bit wordy anyway. It’s clear to me this will be one of the biggest challenges as I continue writing different types of pieces.
But one aspect of it I’m starting to love is what I realized not long ago: It’s a byproduct of the way my mind is exploding lately, how by questioning much of what I’ve taken for granted, I’ve started seeing the world in many different ways. If the worst thing that happens because of that is my writing loses some of its sinew for now, I can live with the trade-off. The upside is too encouraging for me to worry about that too much at this part of the process.
It’s a work in progress, as is this website. As am I.
Published May 16, 2015
With customizing this website, I’m learning as I’m going. This book has some great suggestions, but I admit I got started before finishing the book. That means I’m tweaking and reading, reading and tweaking, and doing a lot of thinking.
It takes a lot of thought to follow the advice of “Don’t Make Me Think.”