The Large Man Chronicles

The Large Man Chronicles

May 3, 2010

Wondering what to write about…

The Large Man Chronicles project was actually born out of boredom, with a bit of mischief and yearning sprinkled in. October, November and December are productive months creatively because Inspiration is everywhere during that time. My view of the world in the fall is in a constant state of amazement. I have fall colors, my birthday, Halloween, the NFL, the world of magic created by my wife, and the holiday season. It is, and has always been, a magical time for me – probably for most of us. In the fall and early winter, Inspiration wraps her loving arms around me, and hugs me like I’m a big Teddy bear. I soak her in.

Later in the winter, while I’m sleeping, she grabs my ATM card and heads south. It becomes more difficult for me to take the time to focus on writing about life because I’m actually out living. I coach my son’s basketball team in January and February; I travel my ass off in January, February, & March. I’m work focused and happy…so there’s that.

The point:

A few weeks ago I had a friend give me a strong lecture on the things I need write about. This lecture came in the middle of a conversation where I didn’t ask her what she thought I should be doing to get more stories into my blog page. The only thing worse than shitty advice is unsolicited advice. I guess shitty, unsolicited advice is the absolute in worsness, but that’s a redundant term. (I realize that worsness is not a word. Back off!)

I don’t want to write something for the sake of writing something. The beauty of a blog page is that I DON’T have a deadline, or an editor, publisher, teacher, or critic (I like critique) telling me what I “need to do”.

I wish I had more to say…more to write about, but Inspiration is a strange mistress. She shows herself to me only in the least convenient times.  Great story lines pop into my head while listening to a customer complain about real stuff that needs attention,  while I’m sitting at a friend’s house watching her kids make S’mores in their cool as shit outdoor fireplace, or while I’m coaching my best friend through a minor emotional crisis. She rarely shows up at 7:30 PM in room 219 at the Crowne Plaza, Courtyard, or Hampton. Inspiration is a bitch.

She is a whisper on the wind that come and goes with little interruption – you have to be looking and listening. When you’re locked into a moment – a conversation with a friend, a movie climax that you won’t pause to jot down a note, anything like that is when she decides she wants to play. If you ignore her for a second,  she will pass you by and go to that prick Stephen King’s house. 

I’m completely serious. Inevitably, when I’m alone in my hotel room my mistress leaves me. She leaves, and she takes her toys with her. She takes all the “ooooo, I should write that down” stuff that was in my head earlier in the day.  So it’s damn near impossible to convey to all you sensitive people the magic that I get to see. It’s out there, but I just forget.  How is that possible? How can I ever forget?

What to do? What to do? What to write about…

… a few weeks ago in Texas while I’m sitting on the back porch of my dear friend’s home, it occurs to me how cool it is to have a lifelong friendship with this chick. Let’s call her Rachael, for the sake of the story. Furthermore, it’s cooler still to call her husband (we’ll call him John) my friend too. Knowing that I’m as welcome with him as I am with her is…well it’s just cool. Cool is the only word that fits. Stuff like that doesn’t happen often. I’m thinking all this while the three of us were talking about dogs. I’m in the moment with them, but the “cool” of it all is tumbling around in the back of my brain.

Then I remember something…

 Many years ago, in a driving rain, in December; a 17-year-old Rachael drove all the way across town to pick me up for my varsity football banquet – about 9 miles one way. Then with me and a bowl of macaroni salad (pot luck kinda deal) drove all the way back to about 1 mile from where she lived, where we attended the banquet. Then she drove me back home, and drove herself back. I’m no geographical genius, (well, actually I AM a geographical genius) but simple math tells me that Rach drove about 36 miles in a nasty rain…in December, so that I could receive a letter in football for sitting on the bench of a state championship runner-up football team…18 of those miles all by herself – in a nasty, cold, treacherous rain storm. ALL this took place after she decided that we probably shouldn’t date anymore. She did this just for me, just because she liked me I guess. That is a friend. I doubt that I ever properly thanked her; I hope this mention at least shows her how much I appreciate her.

I also need to mention that her little sister was solely responsible for getting one of my stories published. Little sister’s husband is as cool as the other side of the pillow as well.  I thanked Rachael’s little sister immediately after the story got published, but I don’t have the game to write those words of appreciation. That’s Harper Lee kind of writing.

I could also talk about their Mom. Their Mom’s simple story of kindness to me will get its own page someday.

You might notice that I feel a little bit attached to these girls. I think I had to know and love Rachael and her little sister (let’s call her Carla) to be able to know and love anyone else, even my wife. Those chicks are a big reason why women are my weakness, and my strength. Women are my inspiration. This all just occurred to me… just now.

So I guess I could write about that…