Angst and the written word...

 “…an ex-spurt – a drip under pressure…”

– Many sources

A lot has been happening in the last few weeks. Things, one would think would make great material for these blogs.

I was ill with the flu for a month. During that time, I slept a lot, read a fair amount, watched a couple of films and ran through a season of “Sniffer,” a Ukrainian closed caption mystery series on Netflix. Interesting, but what to say?

On the mend, it was back to exercise. Bedrest is never good for maintaining one's physical activity levels. Add in nearly seven decades on planet earth, and the returning to function is slower, mentally and physically. By now, I am happy to report, things are almost back to normal. That experience had possibilities, but nothing came.

In April, I was in Chicago twice. Once each for two different organizations – a board meeting and a planning session for a national conference in Orlando in the fall. At the end of the month, I represented the Board of Managers at my local YMCA at a national philanthropic conference in San Diego. It was inspiring to see the behind the scenes efforts the YMCA makes to ensure young people are provided pathways to better personal and citizenship lives.

During these travels, I saw old friends and had some good taxi rides with interesting drivers. These are the kinds of things that generally lead to small ‘life stories' I like to record in these blogs. Except for a visit with an old friend in San Diego, the 'inspirational story cupboard' was bare.

Last week, I finished the first draft of a novel I’ve been working on for over a year. It’s a murder mystery. I got it done, because of the writer’s co-op to which I belong. Five hearty souls meet most Tuesday mornings for three hours or so. We read six to ten pages of whatever we have been writing. Copies are made for the group, and during the read, the rest of the team marks up the text, followed by verbal critiques. It is an excellent exercise, but not one for the faint of heart nor fragile ego. The group has helped me be a better writer. Actually, I should say, the group has helped me, according to my spellchecking and grammar program, make fewer grammatical errors. The quality of writing? Well, that’s a different kettle of fish. Many Tuesday mornings provide wonderful fodder for blog material. Nada!

This past week, I had lunch with an intriguing seventy-something-year-old woman and her husband. Just before getting ill, I had given an AARP (American Association of Retired People), workshop for one-hundred and twenty women at a local New Comer's Club. The following day, while having lunch with my friend Frank, this woman was at the next table. One thing led to another, and we subsequently had a couple of lunches, the latest with she and her husband. As it turns out, he was a retired attorney from Chicago and on our local town counsel. The two of them told some wonderful stories. She is a PhD psychologist, tap dancer, and theatrical director. He had traveled all over the world, met her when he auditioned for one of her plays in Chicago and was as interestingly accessible a man as I have met. Dang, I couldn't find a thread to write about.

This Friday past, Frank and I visited the Triangle Y Camp a few miles north of Tucson. The YMCA runs eleven-hundred kids through programs every summer. Eighty percent of the youngsters are funded through scholarships provided by fundraising the Y does during its Capital Campaign (think San Diego conference). The camp lies on a couple hundred acres covered with bunk houses, meeting halls, mess halls, rope and zip line courses, swimming pool, archery range and trails for a host of activities. Huy Yu, the camp program director, gave us an enthusiastic and knowledgeable tour. 

On the way home, we stopped at a hole in the wall Mexican café. Frank had seen it on the way to the camp. I completely missed it. In fact, it was hardly recognizable even when we pulled into the small and dusty parking lot. That Frank…he has a real eye for this sort of thing. The place had seven sparsely filled tables. A couple of customers gave me pause as to whether this was the place for lunch. As it turned out, the combination burritos we ordered were spectacular. They were so big, neither of us could finish them. Despite that, we managed to split a piece of the most delicious coconut cream pie I have had in a decade. Well, to be honest, I had not had a slice of coconut cream pie in a decade. The entire trip was inspirational and fun. I couldn't find a word to write!

Most often, I have thoughts during the week and begin putting them to keyboard. Generally, Sunday morning is a review by my editor (Molly) and a little tinkering before putting the pieces up. Not this week. The closer Sunday came, the greater the underlying current of discomfort became. Despite any number of adventures worth writing about, I have found my brain without inspirational cause. 

My grammar checker program suggests I’m making fewer mistakes. It would be great if that program suggested something interesting to say….

- ted