First and foremost. This is not a Project. Nope. Not a daily thing either.
All this is…. well… it is just a DAM PHOTO. And that is it.
Here is the thing though. From the time I woke this morning, until now… things to write about have been raining from the sky like gumdrops.
So… tonight I simply couldn’t help myself. And the truth of the matter is…. I am going to need a gosh darn 12-Step Program to stop doing this thing I have come to know so well. This whole writing business.
Very early this morning. While walking down the stairwell at the Drury Inn, a maid was following behind me. I turned and said hello. She smiled really large and said…. “You favor my high school gym teacher.” I chuckled, and smiled really large right back at her. That’s not the first time I’ve been mistaken for a Gym Teacher. I’ll tell you that right now.
But even a goofy-pseudo-gym-teacher can feel dapper, natty, and snazzy.
Sure as can be…., believe it or not, I felt swanky. Yes. Swanky. I was traveling along I-70 today, on my third or fourth swipe between home and Dayton. Flipping through the radio, I found the 40’s Channel on Satellite….. Sirius FM. Holy Cow. I don’t think they make ’em like they used to. There was Bunny Berigan, Chick Webb, Harry James, and Tommy Dorsey. I was swinging….. I was tapping and a-snapping.
Music can make you feel pretty grand at times. This particular venue catapulted me back 70 years. Yes, back to a time before I was born. Yet I felt like I knew every dance, dip and swirl. I could see the Big Band Leader at the podium on the stage, with the Royal Blue curtains behind the band, and his little baton in hand… leading the way. It was palatial.
Next. Opie Taylor… (forever frozen in time… in the way of reruns) … is as cute as can be.
All that was on my brain before 10 a.m.
The rest of the day kept up the same way.
For the past few months, it felt like I struggled for an idea. I labored for words. I squeezed the turnip.
And today, when I put it all away… it came knocking at my front door. Bearing gifts.
And that is how the Universe works sometimes. It lines up every now and again. Tomorrow, the planets may all have their underwear in a a bunch. I don’t know. But I will accept it when it comes.
Tonight I tap at the keyboard again. For no good reason. And. For every good reason.
“Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each.” – Henry David Thoreau
