Frailties, Eggs, Talent, and Friendship

Some of the Black Dog Writers - Valerie, Emma, Scott, Navi, Joe, and Brian

Speaking of age, as I way too often do ... can you believe Paul McCartney is 83, that Brian Wilson's wounded genius is no longer with us, and that Sly of Family Stone fame and Lous Christie passed away this month as well?

The Beach Boys 1965

I have found myself sitting in front of YouTube, remembering when "Good Vibrations" came out. "Have you heard it?" asked Joe Day at Harvey's Dime Store in Akron. I had not, but when I did, it was a life-changer. Music does that, doesn't it? Even when you're not looking, because it's not your eyes it grabs, but pieces of your heart, soul, and imagination.

Speaking of imagination ...

There were more of us than usual at the monthly writers' group. Fifteen of us around two tables pushed together at Black Dog in Logansport. We all read our stuff, some of it (yeah, mine) old because we didn't have time to polish something fresh or real life had gotten in our way, some of it new and of the I wish I'd written that variety. I kept not wanting to follow anyone because they are all so good.

We talked about a bunch of stuff at the meeting. Politics because, although we don't all agree, it is a safe place. Writing and where it comes from and how we take it from imagination to the written word. Calico cats, farm-fresh eggs, and memories. We always get a few of them in there--memories, I mean, where something comes out of 1983 (or, for some of us, 1964) and captures that imagination.

We talked about certain words that fit certain times. Thank you, Lee Scheidler, for giving me back essential, which I had forgotten before I was halfway home. I was reminded of how that word fits so perfectly into the lifestyle of empty nesters who no longer want custody of things kept because we thought the kids might want, need, or cherish them. They will have enough to do when we're gone without having to unload things we loved but they don't. There are times I feel we should include a few books of matches with our will so that they can, with good conscience, keep only what is essential to them and remember the other things one last time as they burn.

Speaking of frailties ...

We talked about health because of recent and upcoming surgeries, injuries, and aches and pains. We are friends who care for each other first, I think, and who nurture the talents within our group. Speaking of talent and friendship ...

We admit to the frailties, resent them, and look over our shoulders for more of them coming. We laugh about them because there's no point in doing otherwise. We write about them, both because they are grist for our wearing-out mills and because they are less frightening when shared, less likely to keep us awake at night worrying. Because someone else will say Oh, yes. Me, too.

There is something that goes with the word essential, isn't it. No matter how old we are, how frail, how limited the talents, and how many friendships aren't there anymore, we still need people to say Oh, yes. Me, too.

Emma brought eggs from her chickens to the meeting the other night, and we took them from her. Me, too.

I have to admit this post has been loosely connected, but I hope some part of it resonates. Along with the frailties, we have the talents and the friendships, too. And the eggs. The fresh eggs and the conversations that go along with them are an unexpected pleasure sometimes.

Wishing you a good week, with pleasures both expected and not. Be nice to somebody.