“Nothing Special” Blog

The books that have taught me how to write have also taken me out on the road to speak. The speaking and writing have happily conspired to put me in contact with many terrific people, more than I can keep up with.

This blog is my attempt to be in contact while still protecting time with Barbara and the kids, some nourishing solitude, and time to write.

I am calling it “Nothing Special” because I have no illusions of having anything particularly profound to say. Days in a life and hunches about living, along with some excerpts from What Remains and Sailing Grace.

WHAT WRITING ASKS

  To write requires attention, not unlike a call to prayer. To write requires respect – even reverence – for the sacred within the ordinary. Writing well demands that I be wide awake, both open to and honest about what I see, and lucid in the telling. Writing asks that I embrace a world that […]

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HEMINGWAY

I did not intend to go to Ketchum. I head north instead, illusions of outrunning the weather. I’d spent long hours at his house in Key West, drawn what I could.   Enough.   And then a small sign, white on green, at an intersection north of Pocatello. Simply “Ketchum”.   “How far?” I ask […]

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JOURNEY

I made my first journey at three. If my mother was to be believed, I waddled out of the backyard and down the street to the bus stop. I leveraged myself up onto the first step of the Michigan Street bus. The bus driver bolted out of his seat, head swiveling, looking for a pursuer. […]

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FOOL

I throttle down the shoreline road to town in a brisk March breeze, close attention in the curves where the snow melt can freeze. I park my cycle outside a favorite lakeside restaurant. I shake off the chill so vigorously that I stumble through the doorway. The lunchtime crowd is long gone. The bored waitstaff greet me […]

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AGAIN

  I park my motorcycle for good when our son John Ryan is seven. Throw a blanket over it in the back of the garage. I entertain the delusion that parking it will protect him from the temptation to take up cycling. Fat chance. By seventeen John Ryan has not one but two motorcycles of […]

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