I've Found My Path

I spent part of the evening sitting on the floor at PetSmart in Stevenson Ranch in front of the sealed-off bird cages, reading "Moonraker" by Ian Fleming, part of my goal to read all the James Bond novels ever published. Mom and Meridith were looking at the birds, deciding if there were any that could make a trio of finches for us. (We have Mr. Chips and Gizmo, but Mom's still on the fence about another third finch. She believes it would be easier this time with only two, just like with two dogs, and certainly when we move.)

I got to page 124 in that span of time, but when we reached the car to head home, I was reticent about hooking my reading light onto this paperback copy, not for fear of tearing, but because despite however many pages I hold to the front cover to create a strong-enough base for the reading light, there's always a droop. So I opened up "Out of the Cracker Barrel" by William Cahn, a hardcover book, ostensibly about the formation of the Nabisco Corporation, but moreso about its founder, Adolphus W. Green. There is such depth of research and clear-eyed observation here. Cahn just wants the facts to be known and it's fascinating to read, along with the historical photos, which are astonishing in their clarity. These are really good black-and-white photographs.

After passing page 22, I couldn't wait anymore. Not that I wait until the end to read an author's bio, but I wanted to know right away who William Cahn was and what else he had done with his life (I just found out that the Walter P. Reuther Library at Wayne State University in Detroit has a collection of his papers, and that he died in 1976). And I got this:

"William Cahn, a Dartmouth College graduate, is a public relations consultant and author of several successful books, including The Story of Pitney-Bowes; Einstein, A Pictorial Biography; The Laugh Makers, A Pictorial History of American Comedians; Harold Lloyd's World of Comedy; Good Night Mrs. Calabash: The Secret of Jimmy Durante. He is also the co-author of The Story of Writing.

Mr. Cahn is particularly interested in the documentary form which permits facts or photographs--or both--to re-create history, whether of a man, an era or an institution. "When the author is more moderator than judge, a work of history comes alive. This is what I have tried to do in Out of the Cracker Barrel."

Mr. Cahn lives with his wife and three children in New Haven, Connecticut."

With that bibliography, Cahn clearly followed his passions. That's what I intend to do. Besides my next book, I've got two novels in mind, one of which will be based upon Don Quixote, and I haven't even read it yet. I like the gist of it, though, and I've figured out an unattainable holy grail for my Quixote figure. However, I'm not sure if I have any more ideas for novels beyond those two, but being that I'm 27, and have probably only seen barely 1/8 of the world so far, there may be more in the decades to come.

I'm also planning two books about condiments (yes, condiments), one involving the packaging of condiments. I know there's enough historical material for both books. I just have to dig for it.

I have a folder on this computer and on my flash drive for plays, and I've got at least 50 ideas. But out of those, there are 2 or 3 that really excite me, and I'm sure I can develop the others over time, if indeed there's anything there.

I don't expect to get rich off any of this. I know a full-time job will be absolutely necessary, but since I know what I want to do, and I'm passionate about either option, that won't be a problem.

But all of this is exactly what I want to do with my life. Actually, it is my life. It's my hobbies, too. I don't feel like there's anything missing. I'm excited every day with what there is to do as a writer. There have been shit days with my words, and there will be more shit days, guaranteed, but at least there'll be something written on those days that can be improved upon on the good days. I've always leaned more toward the editing side of writing, and despite the hardships, I'm grateful every day for those five weeks that I was the interim editor of the weekend Escape section at The Signal. It taught me not only about the pressures involved in getting the words into print, but also how to streamline them, to make them even better for readers.

I get to read and write every day. I can't think of anything else I want. Well, more books to read, but that's a given.

The Moment That Will Continue to Inspire Me Through My Next Book

Just like with "My Thirty Years Backstairs at the White House," I started reading "Write It When I'm Gone" by esteemed journalist Thomas M. DeFrank last night, and finished it late this morning. It's a series of three decades of off-the-record interviews with Gerald R. Ford, who told DeFrank he could print all this after his death. And DeFrank did. And while it yielded very little information for my own book, it's a remarkable, highly informative journey through the feelings and historical moments of America's first and only unelected vice president and president, which Ford did not like, and wanted so badly to be elected in his own right, but came to terms with it in due time in his post-presidential life.

In my notes, I took down names to look up, titles of other books to read, political names to look up, such as James Callaghan of Britain, but I found a moment in here that speaks to exactly what I believe in my own life: No one is above me and no one is below me. And I hold the same belief for presidents. They may have access to nuclear launch codes, and their words reverberate throughout the world, but they are human. Their historical position does not change that.

Ford showed that many times, being a gentle man and a good man. DeFrank writes this in his epilogue:

"All of us in this crazy business of journalism retain instances that stick in our brains, moments that really weren't newsworthy or happened past deadline, so they never made it into print or onto the air, but are memorable nonetheless because they offer an unexpected window into the character and humanity of a public life.

For me, one of those iconic insights occurred just four days after Gerald Ford became president, as he was fiddling with the speech he would give to a joint session of Congress in less than two hours.

Suddenly, Ford looked up from his text and a postprandial martini.

"Howard, have you had dinner?" he asked Commander Howard Kerr, the naval aide who had delivered the final speech draft to Ford's modest home in the Virginia suburbs.

When Kerr said he hadn't eaten, the new president led the officer into the kitchen and plucked the remains of the new First Lady's tuna noodle casserole from the oven. Ford spooned out the entree onto a plate and put it on the kitchen table. "Have some dinner," he told Kerr. "I'm going to go work on the speech."

Mr. President, I can't dedicate this book to you when the time comes, but I see now that you are the reason for this book. Thank you.

Another Great Review for "What If They Lived?"

Felix Vasquez, Jr. and I wrote for Film Threat (http://www.filmthreat.com/) at the same time, but our contact was usually limited to occasional conversations, and it's been so long since we've talked at length on Facebook. Phil Hall, the co-author of "What If They Lived?", had a copy of the book sent to him and here is the result:

http://www.cinema-crazed.com/Cinemusings/whatiftheylived.htm

Research Has Begun for My Second Book

I've talked and talked about it, but talk isn't enough, as I've been pushed into beginning research for my second book, because of the impending handover of control of the Valencia library and the two other Santa Clarita branches from the County of Los Angeles to the City of Santa Clarita at the beginning of July. Without access to the County libraries, I would never have been able to write my share of "What If They Lived?"

Last night I started, and today I finished, "My Thirty Years Backstairs at the White House" by Lillian Rogers Park in collaboration with Frances Spatz Leighton, about Park's thirty years working as a seamstress and maid in the White House, first with her mother, Maggie, and then in her own right for the Hoover family. Very little in that book garnered anything I could use for my own book, but being that I love the 1979 miniseries that was made from it (and which I own on DVD), it was worth reading it again.

I have no publisher for this book this time, not that easily again like it was with "What If They Lived?", but I'm ready for the challenges in finding one.

Every Day a Little Death

Late last night, our white zebra finch, Ducky, died. Like Jules, who preceded him to the Rainbow Bridge, he was old, perhaps even older than Jules, by a few days or a few weeks. We can't be sure, but Ducky was getting older when we got him. We were told we could just have him, because that pet store owner didn't see anything in him anyway, thought that because of the generally dirty look he had and the beak that had been pecked by other finches to a misshapen form, what use was he?

Ducky was good for us, and in his new cage, his energy rose, and he would make sounds like an adding machine, that ringing sound, over and over.

The saddest thing last night was not that I saw his small, hunched figure at the bottom of the cage take his last breath. It was after I went to bed, and so I heard about it this morning, that Mr. Chips, who tweeted along with Ducky, and I guess was close to him.

Mom had taken off Ducky's cover completely and was doing the necessary work with Meridith, gathering Ducky's body (no burials allowed in our neighborhood) and putting it in a paper bag along with his favorite toys. Mr. Chips tweeted and when Mom pulled back part of his cover, she found him looking right at what was going on, with his beak on the bars of his cage. He never stopped looking. They were closer than I thought.

Ducky had been going for a long time. Gradually, he began to lose energy. His feet weren't carrying him the way they used to. And the adding machine noises faded. But, he was old. That's what happens. It's sad, though, because he was one of the stalwarts of our home. Not only a cute bird, but always there, always happy.

Right now, Mr. Chips and our new finch, Gizmo, are tweeting. Mr. Chips's tweets are more boisterous. Gizmo's tweets sound like a resolute cricket with a throat problem. But then, it's his second day here. He likes that everything in his cage is for him and he doesn't have to share anything with any other finch, like he did at PetSmart. Oh, and he's named Gizmo because he has the same coloring as his gremlin namesake. His was the easiest name to figure out.

It is quiet today, though. Just as much solemnity as it was when Jules died. It feels weird not having our adding machine anymore. But it is a cycle. Mom already has her eye on another finch, one that was in the same cage as Gizmo at PetSmart. I've no doubt that'll be part of our weekend errands.

Spring Break: Day 6 - Chores and Errands

Spring break is a chain of days off for Dad and Meridith, so with that much space available, anything can be done. And yet, errands of any kind only feel right on the weekend, when we do the majority of them.

Yesterday was a majority, but first in chores for me to do. I started the morning with some more of "Sordid Lives", which is based on a play by Del Shores, who also wrote and directed the film, but before I even found out it was first a play, I knew it had to have been a play first before a movie, because there's many monologues in the film, and instances where a character, with other characters, speaks at length and those characters listening either interject or just listen. It's not as obvious as, say, "The Big Kahuna," starring Kevin Spacey, Danny DeVito, and Peter Facinelli, which is entirely obvious since it takes place in one room. There are changes in location in "Sordid Lives", but you've really got to pay attention to find those moments that indicate that it was once a play.

I liked the cast. Beau Bridges is in it, Olivia Newton-John, and Leslie Jordan, who's known for Beverley Leslie on "Will & Grace", but here, embraces entirely another role, a cross-dressing gay man locked up in a mental hospital simply for being gay and being different, who idolizes Tammy Wynette and lip-syncs to her songs in full Wynette regalia in front of a medicated audience. Usually.

I finished it this morning, and now I'm curious about the TV series that was made. Netflix doesn't have it. Amazon does, but it's fairly pricey for 2 discs, even in the Marketplace section where the price is slightly lower. I also found out that Leslie Jordan's one-man show, "My Trip Down the Pink Carpet", based on his autobiography, is on DVD, and I think I want to see that more right now.

So, back to yesterday morning. A bit of "Sordid Lives", and then I decided on a shower, and then washing the dog's dishes (food dishes, water dish, the tray that all of them are on), and gathering the garbages to put together into the kitchen garbage to take it out to the bin in the garage, and the same for the recycling.

I did everything I could possibly do in one morning, and then sat down on the couch, trying to finish the rest of "The Good Fight" by Walter Mondale. The day before yesterday, we'd gone to Porter Ranch and Simi Valley, to PetCo, HomeGoods, PetSmart, the Reagan Library for lunch at the cafe there (best fresh potato chips you'll ever find), and to see "Arthur" (Mom went with me since she wanted to see it, too, and I liked it. I like Russell Brand and he did what he always does best in it, though I still have a soft spot for the original, not only because of how good it is, but als because years ago, after a concert at the Hallandale Park racetrack, Christopher Cross autographed my "Arthur" DVD case in two places), and there wasn't much time to read.

I was on page 255, and had 100 more pages. So it went through that half an hour, and then after I was done with lunch, and before we went out, and on the way to the newsstand (for my usual copy of Wall Street Journal Weekend), and on the way to the library, and in the library, since I still hadn't finished it by then. I sat down at the table we chose when we got there, and did.

34 books on hold, and I picked up 20 (after returning everything I had in my tote bag, including "The Good Fight"). I usually don't read everything I check out. There's a lot of titles that I put on hold when I'm interested in them and about a week later, that interest fades, not long after I've checked out those books. That happened with one book that was a profile of the world's most powerful law firm. It happened with a book about Coke called "The Coke Machine" (http://www.amazon.com/Coke-Machine-Behind-Worlds-Favorite/dp/B004MPRWOQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1302457913&sr=1-1). I try to make it happen less, though. For example, all the books I have right now about the presidents, I need all those for my research. And I have a few books by Anthony Bourdain, which I won't read until I've read "Kitchen Confidential", because I want to be knocked on my ass and breathless enough to want more, just like I was when I read that excerpt in the "Best Food Writing 2000" anthology.

I also picked up the first few James Bond novels by Ian Fleming. I want to read "Casino Royale" again and really pay attention to the subsequent works, unlike when I was at the Pembroke Pines campus of Broward Community College in South Florida with the Southwest Regional library right next door. I read the books, including "Moonraker", but didn't really feel like I paid a lot of attention to them. Just read them to get through them. But being that James Bond is my Star Wars, I'm going to go for it again, including the ones that came after Ian Fleming.

The rest of the day was busy; a lot of walking, with PetSmart, Target, and I didn't mind any of it. The more walking to do, the better for this body. It's when you get past 8 p.m. and go to Chick-Fil-A for dinner and start to feel it, then later at 9-something at Pavilions to pick up a few things, that the tiredness really sets in. It's not a stiff kind of tiredness, but you soon know when you've reached your limit. And I knew that when we got home a little past 10 p.m., and I put the Chick-Fil-A nutrition guide in the restaurant menu folder in a drawer in the kitchen. I looked for it again on the table, couldn't find it, went to that drawer, opened the folder and there it was. But I didn't remember that I had done that. That's when I knew it was time to let the night be ruled by others. I was done with it.

Today is possibly lunch at Moon Wok, our Chinese food heaven. Besides that, who knows. It's just an average Sunday and I like it that way.

Spring Break: Day 4 - Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

I decided to get this in before the events of tomorrow, revisiting part of the updated Reagan Library (not the part that requires admission, but I do want to see what the souvenir store has, and also to look out at the view from the replica of the South Lawn) as well as having lunch at the Reagan Cafe, a few errands arround Simi Valley, seeing "Arthur", and then possibly going to Famous Dave's BBQ for dinner.

Yet another day at home and it turns out with good reason. Not that I'm getting restless, but I did get to that point this evening where I would like to see a different part of my immediate world. Not cabin fever. With all the books I have, I can leave through the words and come back whenever I want. The living room couch is my aircraft.

Rather, it's the anticipation of seeing "Arthur." I've seen the trailer so many times, and I liked learning that there's a new version of "Best That You Can Do (Arthur's Theme)" played over the end credits, which means Christopher Cross, who I'm a huge fan of, and the others involved in that song, gets some royalties. As if that wasn't enough, I also found out that Cross has a new album coming out called "Doctor Faith." It's been 13 years since "Walking in Avalon", and I understand, since it takes time for him to write those songs, but I hope he doesn't wait too long the next time. Once that one's released, I'm buying it.

It was a quiet day with Walter Mondale. An honest, well-meaning politician. You don't find that combination of words these days. I'm up to when Jimmy Carter has decided to make him his running mate, which is what I've been waiting for, to see what it was like for him being a rare vice president who worked so closely with his boss. The meeting of the two is particularly fascinating, in Plains, Georgia, the conversations serious and utterly intelligent, and the walk around Plains, with Carter talking about how his religion drives him in his decisions.

There was enough to keep me occupied up until then, with Mondale's admiration for Hubert Humphrey, and his career in the Senate. I've got 196 pages to go, so there's a lot more interesting tidbits to come.

And that's been it. Just me and Mondale's book. And probably tomorrow, too, but with the added feature of a car and my mp3 player while in that car.