Day 6

The Matchbox milk truck was dark blue, a Model A with big chrome headlights and flared fenders, only just out of the packaging. I took it out to the playground at the center of our oval of single-wides. At some point it went missing. I spent a lot of time scanning grass and digging around in the puddles that had formed in the big divots under the swings. A bigger kid helped me look, all sincerity and sleuthing. Years later I realized that this was the day I learned that someone could look right into your face, smile, and lie.

Day 5

Music is in every instrument, but to get it out you have to slog through a lot of stuff that doesn’t sound like music at all. And that’s how it is for everything. It all starts with the ugly building blocks, stacked clumsily, collapsing often, callusing fingers and bloodying knuckles. Everyone who makes something look easy has spent a LOT of time making it look hard. Effortlessness comes only after effort - and a lot of it. Loving the result is easy. The hard part is embracing the path to the result, when everything is ugly and hard to do.

Day 4

“Meet me at my buddy’s banjo shop” was an unexpected response to my telling my cousin Jeremiah that I was headed his way. He was a great one for unexpected responses.  At Cloverlick Banjo Shop I met two craftsmen and visionaries who are not just dreaming, but making dreams come alive. I heard sounds that I didn’t know a banjo could make - soulful, mellow, full of meaning. Soon after, Jeremiah fought cancer hard and lost. These new friends and this new music on a new instrument are near the top of a long list of gifts he gave me. 

Day 3

Don White talked about keeping things simple and he lived out the philosophy too. One of my favorite ways to see it in action was fishing with him.  

The boat – a 17-foot long hull with a steering wheel at one end, outboard motor at the other, and an expanse of fiberglass in between.  

The target – bluefish.  

The bait - two variations on a topwater plug (one with a little nose propeller, one without).  

The tackle – three of essentially the same rod/reel combo.  

The drift – across the same acre of water, direction depending on the wind and tide.  

The enjoyment – endless. 

Day 2

She paints. It takes a while. I’ve learned that the process is more than just putting oil on canvas in shapes. There is mixing, and thinking, and removing of paint, and adding of more. Sometimes there is putting the canvas away for a while and painting something else. Inspiration, frustration, self-doubt, self-confidence, failure, and triumph are all part of the experience. When all that is past and the paint has dried, there is a picture that tells more stories than I can ever take in.   She says it’s a matter of building skill, but to me it seems like magic.

Day 1

Writing is thinking, and I like to think. At least tell myself that I do. Communication is hard, but it’s worth the effort. These are both good reasons to make myself write. Two more reasons are that the path to getting good at things usually runs straight through doing them poorly for much longer than you’d like, and the path to true enjoyment of something usually involves quite a lot of plain old work building the necessary skills.

I’m doing this to improve and see if I have something to say. To any following along, I promise consistency – nothing else.