Catch Jim’s podcast: https://youtu.be/_ZIyrtp8nwE

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Life, actually…

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CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

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“Your city is so beautiful.”

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This from a visitor who is Down South for the first time.

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When I first hear this oft-repeated statement, many years ago, I do a double-take. “Is he talking about my town?” I ask myself.

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I was so accustomed to activities of daily living that the essence of my surroundings had faded into oblivious routine. I failed to notice the loveliness that abounded.

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“There is so much greenery here. And the architecture is wonderful,” the stranger goes on.

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After decades of seeing my town through the eyes of pilgrims, I have become its biggest fan. I add, “Thanks for saying that. It makes me feel good that you see us at our best.”

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I do go on, “And the people here are so friendly—visitors are always remarking how safe they feel.”

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The visitor roams the store, a big smile and a look of surprise on his face.

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There are many first-timers in the shop each week. Layovers from the trains, the airlines, the interstate bus system. Layovers from people on their way to someplace else.

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Other first-timers are tourists, conventioneers, reunioneers, accidental drop-bys, lost wanderers looking for a bathroom a meal, directions.

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The most amazing first-timers are local people, people who have never ventured into the city, fearful of perceived dangers and traffic and one-way streets, forbidding parking decks, unspoken penalty-laden rules.

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Fear of becoming lost in a strange land.

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I look forward to welcoming these visitors and layovers and first-time locals. I make sure they see things through my eyes for a few seconds.

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Amazingly, the evangelizing often works. People re-visit the store to let me know their reactions.

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“You were right—the restaurants are great.”

“I love the museums. They are world-class.”

“I finally ate some grits and bar-b-q. Wow!”

“I heard some good jazz last night.”

“I want to come back and stay longer next time.”

“Got any souvenirs?”

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Yes, I focus on the good that is here. And, once visitors are given directions to the next great thing to do in the city, they are ready to see us as a really interesting region.

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Most of them will be back someday. I know, because they come to see us, to let us know that, despite all media data to the contrary, we are worth the time.

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If you look for the good in our living township, you will find it. If you look for the bad, it is there. You decide which way to go.

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Choose your own adventure.

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Y’all come

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© Jim Reed 2023 A.D.

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Catch Jim’s Red Clay Diary on youtube: https://youtu.be/WcS4KFdT0vc

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Life, actually…

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A-HUNTING WE WILL GO

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Just because this is a chilly winter day doesn’t mean that every day for the rest of my life will be chilly.

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In just a few weeks, temperatures will top out thermometer tubes and I will once again dream of chilly days like this.

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Here’s an entry from the Red Clay Diary, from one of those hundred-degree days in a Down South village:

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Stepping into the morning, I hit a wall of astounding heat and humidity, SPLAT! just like Wile E. Coyote slamming into a brick wall. Wow!

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I catch my breath and wade into the scorching morass like a ghost seeping through a closed door.

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How will people behave on a day like this? I wonder. How will this affect their attitudes?

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I soon know the answers.

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BEEP! The Roadwarrior in the testosterone jeep behind me taps his horn in the split second it takes the light to change and my foot to switch from brake to accelerator. In olden days my reaction would be to remove foot from pedal and slow down a bit, a simple act of aggression caused by the heat of the day but eminently satisfying to me and doubly frustrating to the jeep guy.

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Nowadays I no longer test the patience of a souped-up stranger. Folks can be testy, even dangerous.

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I simply allow him to whiz past and get on with the journey.

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I take a deep breath, smile, and resume my forward trek.

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Now I am peering into a chest-high used-book bin at the thrift store to see what’s what, when a longsleeved arm curls around me from behind to grab a volume I’m examining. I turn to see who would do such a thing and just miss observing a different arm snatching a book from the other side of the bin.

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I sigh, count to eight and a half, and decide not to protest. These are just books and those are just locusts doing what they know how to do.

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I move on to a section of the store where nobody is hovering. My fun comes from silently–and alone–reading the titles and imagining the contents.

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Later on, the building I’m about to pass sports a long staircase upon which four orange-hard-hatted men wearing orange vests sit and chat next to four orange traffic cones. They don’t notice the heat of the morning because this is what they experience all day on every hot day. They aren’t whiners like you and me. They are enjoying each other’s company.

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Then, I am at the car radio store standing by while a perspiring clerk lies on his side on the passenger seat of my vehicle, surgically probing for the top of a Flair marker that has leapt into the bowels of my cassette player and clogged the works. He’s a good sport and doesn’t mind the challenge. I’m proud of the cassette player, ordered brand-new from Japan, where it is still manufactured. It gives me pleasure whenever I drive, because I can play all those wonderful old cassettes that have piled up over the years.

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EUREKA! he shouts as he displays the culprit just fished for and caught. He doesn’t want to charge me anything, but I feel it’s worth every cent of the twenty-dollar bill I slip him. He doesn’t know what a good Samaritan he is.

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This hot evening, we are dining at a favorite  restaurant, being served by a brusque but efficient waiter who clicks into Polite as he brings the tab, making a little joke and hoping to engage us. We show our appreciation and actually do leave a nice tip.

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At the bookshop earlier in the heat of the day, I assist a customer whose face is remarkable–expressive dark eyes, soft lips, soft smile, pleasant and easy to deal with. As she prepares to leave, a shadow flickers over her countenance for just a second and some distant pain reveals itself. By the time I react, she is gone, like so many others whose sequestered lives remain out of reach. But I remember her face.

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These are just a few of the pilgrims with whom I engage or disengage.

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There are so many, so many, all with secret lives, all with journeys mysterious. I appreciate them all, I wonder about them all.

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I feel like an archivist, writing down all these wispy lives. But at least I notice. At least I try to show some respect. At least I assign A-Plus grades to each and every soul. This could be the only attention they receive today.

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Maybe you can help me archive more of these lovely sad and happy people

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© Jim Reed 2023 A.D.

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 Catch Jim’s newest podcast: https://youtu.be/0kgucKrvRig

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or read today’s memoir:

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Life, actually…

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THOSE THINGS YOU DO

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Love is so complicated. Too complicated to explain.

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Yet, there is nothing so simple and pure as love.

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Go figure.

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One temporarily wise man put it this way, ”To write a love letter we must begin without knowing what we intend to say, and end without knowing what we have written.” Was Jean Jacques Rousseau onto something? Or was he just as confused as I?

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This much I do know. One brief shard of wisdom cannot explain or interpret the subject of Love. It takes a lifetime of effort. For example:

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I love the sound of your snores…they remind me that you are breathing and alive and beside me in the welcoming night.

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I love the way you have full confidence in our children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. You know they will prevail and survive and make you proud and prouder each day.

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I love the way you move about the kitchen in a kind of fragrant, choreographed performance

I love the polite way you alert me to the fact that I am cluesessly smacking noisily on potato chips. You know that I have potential and that I could employ it more often.

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I love the way you remain placid in the face of impending troubles. I calm down within your composure.

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I love the way you look up at me and politely request a hug. Or two.

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I love the way you smile ear to ear when you beat me at Scrabble.

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I love the way you refuse to park in a handicapped space just in case other handicapped people need it worse than you.

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I love this life with you. What a remarkable journey

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© Jim Reed 2023 A.D.

Catch Jim’s youtube podcast: https://youtu.be/yUg9m0Q-YI8

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Life, actually…

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DEEP BREATHING DOWN SOUTH

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At this moment, on this semi-sunny day, my lifelong village is teeming with sound and motion and color and laughter and rage. It seems to happen all at once, this teeming of souls and cultures.

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I find that taking notes is a sort of Calling. I love memorizing snapshot moments such as this one. Later, once alone with scrapbook mind and sharpened pencil, I can review split second after split second. I can sort it out to see what might have been missed.

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Catch Jim’s youtube podcast: https://youtu.be/a1Rk8kKfaFY

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Life, actually…

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HOW TO RE-REVIEW AND RE-RENEW YOUR WORLD

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“Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore…”

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The lyrics of an old Yuletide carol fade from memory, quickly replaced by a  New Year that is happening with or without my permission.

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Here it is, ready or not.

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So, what will this newborn era bring to me? What will I bring to it?

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Is it in control of me, or am I the baton-wielding conductor?

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How can the world as it is, co-exist with the world it could be?

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Enough with the soul-searching questions, away with the philosophizing. It’s time to get on with life.

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Happy New Year!

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Sometimes, stopping to smell the roses can be thorny. But sometimes, it’s a good way to re-start, re-boot, refresh, renew.

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You might even consider getting up close and allowing the roses to enjoy you.

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Let me toss a thought or two into the atmosphere. Here are some notions about gaining control of your world on your own terms:

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Sit still in a park or restaurant or window and carefully observe the first village elder who passes by. Memorize every graceful move, scrutinize all limited motions, note the assuredness, the insecurity, the constant overlap of mind and matter, the recollections that must be occurring.

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Sit still and carefully consider the fact that you are gazing through a portal to a future time. You are observing yourself as you might be some future day.

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Then, consider what suggestions you the future Elder might offer to this present-moment version of You.

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If nothing occurs, consider what you would like to say to that distant-future You.

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Be kind.

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Carefully observe the reactions of both selves.

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Close your eyes for 90 seconds and bring your selves together in peace, understanding and harmony.

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Snap!

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Some other harmless but notable things to do:

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At a public event, pretend you are about-facing in order to view the audience behind you, ignoring what’s up front. 

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The audience is the real show. Everything else is artifice.

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Carry snapshots of your parents and grandparents and brag about them every chance you get.

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Have someone read you a bedtime story.

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With eyes closed, clutch a very old book to your chest for an hour and imagine what is happening inside that volume. Then, open it up and view the pop-up world within.

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If all this unsolicited advice is too strange for you, make your own list of ways to view this new year. You are a passenger, but now and then you can occupy the driver’s seat.

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Turn the world upside-down for a day and tell me what that was like

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© Jim Reed 2023 A.D.

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