Catch Jim’s podcast at https://youtu.be/Y2XKE2QqfMk

or read the transcript below:

HOW TO BECOME YOUR OWN AUTOBIOGRAPHER

In the Fall, I will resume my speaking appearances here and there, spreading the gospel of words and writing and reading. Sowing the seeds of realization—realization that you are just as important in the scheme of things as you were when a mere child.

I will go on about my belief in Childhood’s certain knowledge that all things in the heavens and on earth are connected,

My powerful belief that the center of the universe is right here, behind my eyes, right here, wherever I am

I gaze at life through my own eyes. Since I cannot see through anyone else’s eyes, I can only imagine what everything looks like from others’ points of view.

But imagine I can. I can imagine what your world is like. That intuitive burst of inspiration turns me into an artist, a writer, a performer, an evangelistic purveyor of thoughts and ideas. The fun of sharing my own point of view with you comes from your feedback.

“Why, you write about me, did you know that?” a fan tells me. “How do you know how I feel?”

I don’t know the answer to that question, but I know it comes up repeatedly in my time on earth.

If I am to have any satisfaction at all, I learn to adopt this thought that you, the reader, have given me.

Instead of trying to report what I think you are feeling, in place of imagining your life, I have to remind myself that that will never happen. I’ll never be you.

What I can do, though, is write about my deepest, purest feelings, allowing you and your imagination to identify with me where you can, here and there.

You get the impression that I understand you through my writings, but the truth is, I am a mere conduit. I write about my life. From reading my work, you draw your own conclusions about yourself.

That makes me a mirror or an echo chamber, doesn’t it?

My message to you is always the same: Write your life. Takes notes. Record what you see, what you experience. The more you do this, the more you realize how important  you are.

The tiniest observation, the most minuscule thought, the least noticeable jolt of insight—each is an enormity. Each is universal.

As you take note of your life, your past, your present, your imagined future, you will begin to appreciate yourself more. You will begin to see that others are just as important as you. You will begin to see that you are just as important as others.

Don’t take my word for it.

You don’t have to dig deeply to find profound thoughts. Don’t strain yourself seeking heavy-ladened insights. All these will come to you when least expected.

My mission, in these little notes and talks and performances and readings and appearances, is to show you how connected we all are. I do that by telling brief stories about actual life, actual day to day  existence.

As I say, don’t take my word for it.

My satisfaction will come when you no longer need to see my words, hear my words. I will be happier once you become so involved with telling your own stories, that you don’t have time to read or hear mine.

But for now, that is enough. I’ll be quiet while you get busy taking notes. Tell me your life now. You already know enough about mine.

At least for today

Jim Reed © 2021 A.D.

WEBSITE

Weekly Podcast: REDCLAYDIARY

Catch Jim Reed’s Red Clay Diary podcast at https://youtu.be/V2fIoMi6IbY

or read the transcript below:

THESE LITTLE PIGGIES DON’T KNOW FROM MEDICARE

 Everything I ever will need to know about doctors and hospitals, I learn as a pre-teen in 1950s Deep South America. No kidding!

As I dial the Time-O-Meter back to those days of yore, I find myself staring up at a white ceiling. I am prone on my back and there appears above me the face of Dr. Conwill.

Doc Conwill is preparing an instrument that vaguely resembles a soldering iron. As I lie here on the examination room’s white-linened gurney, I also see the face of my mother, who is hovering nearby to witness the upcoming medical procedure.

I am fully clothed except for shoes and socks. Two big toes are about to be operated on. I know that pain is about to occur, since this is the second time I will be grasping Mother’s hand while hurt is being inflicted. This little piggy and that little piggy will soon be altered just enough to make ingrown toenails behave themselves.

The only wisdom I glean from today’s medical procedure is that Pain Hurts. Yep, Pain Hurts! YEOW! is about as profound as I get.

Local anesthetics are not applied, so for the rest of my life I am sympathizing with victims of toenail torture. Only in this case, hurtfulness is for a good cause.

A few months later I am in Druid City Hospital, again face-up on an operating table. This time, Dr. Conwill has delegated my toes to the care of a surgeon who will get the the job done in a less painful and more  institutional manner. The danged toes refuse to heal themselves under Dr. Conwill’s care.

This is my first time in a hospital, first time anesthesia will be administered, first time my bare buttocks will be displayed by one of those backward-fitting hospital gowns, invented by someone with a misguided sense of humor. Bare bottom in order to operate on bare toes? Hmmm…

I fade to black and re-materialize hours later in recovery, my toes fixed, my eyes unfocused. Two days later, I stop seeing double and begin to deal with the fact that I will return to school wearing sandals—most uncool in these days of Fifties protocol.

My father enters the room, ready to meet with toe surgeon Dr. Thomas and sign discharge papers to get me the heck out of here. Dr. Thomas enters, peeks under bandages, declares me ready to exit. Dad asks how much he owes for the operation.

These are innocent times.

Dr. Thomas glances at my feet, smiles, says, “Well, let’s make that $12.50 per toe. What about $25.00?”

Dad opens his leather wallet, pulls out a twenty and a five, and the deal is done.

No co-pay, no insurance filing, no Nurse Ratched to have us jump through hoops, no series of bills and lengthy legal statements arriving in the mail.

$25.00 and I’m done with hospitals for a few decades…until last week, as a matter of fact.

But last week’s hospital stay is another, more lengthy  story, in these times when nothing in the field of medicine is as simple as barter or receiptless cash or a simple handshake

Jim Reed © 2021 A.D.

WEBSITE

Weekly Podcast: REDCLAYDIARY

Catch Jim’s 4-minute podcast at https://youtu.be/gkS55sFPvI4

or read his transcript below:

A TINTED TALE

Pretend that once upon a time you open your own business, right here in your own village. Of all the things that can go right or wrong, here is just a sample of one small item, one thing that influences your daily life. There are others!

First you lease a space that contains great big windows. The idea is that the glass will give you the feeling of wide open spaces, accessible at any time. The view will allow potential customers to feel comfortable.

Then you find that the sun is blindingly annoying at certain times of day. Customers complain, you yourself complain.

You sally forth to install shades to cover up those windows. The view is temporarily hidden. You intend to re-open the shades once the sun moves on.

Later you realize that the shades are now a habit, remaining in place because nobody thinks to go and reopen them. The only sunshine apparent is provided by bleached-light fluorescents.

Given a chance to re-design the structure you inhabit, you make sure the windows are tinted so that curtains won’t be needed, so that you can still see out and passersby can see in.

What you find out too late is that you can’t really see the clearness of day. From inside, the world appears overcast. From the outside, your place looks deserted, even when it isn’t.

Besides, newfangled windows are also not openable or closeable because air conditioning precludes the need to feel and breathe fresh—or stale—air. That also means that when the AC goes down or the power company takes a break, there is no relief to be found from a raised window.

One day, you notice that other businesses have this problem.

When you pass an eatery with heavily tinted windows, you hesitate to stop because there are no customers to be seen, no lights on view…you assume the place is closed and that somebody forgot to switch off the OPEN sign.

Instead, you select a place that looks active and vital—and sunshiny. And untinted.

Which brings up the profound question, “What are windows for, anyhow?”

Oh, sure, you can keep the windows curtainless and untinted, but even then, things happen. A vendor convinces you that you’ll make lots of money placing a new display in front of the window where all that unused space awaits. After a while, passersby only see the back of a colorless display and, once again, inside the store it is dark and eerily lighted by those ever-present fluorescents.

So, this tinted tale is about to end. The lessons you have learned about business visibility and customer satisfaction leave you wondering how you would design a business locale from scratch, should you have the opportunity.

Probably won’t happen, because all those other tutorials  need to be attended to. I could go on.

The good news is that each lesson learned is a lesson that can be shared with others about to embark onto the land of entrepreneurship. Some will ask you for advice.

On the other hand, many others will do exactly the same thing you and I do. We ignore all wisdom emanating from well-wishers. We ignore because the actual act of creating a new and viable work of art and commerce—your own business—makes you temporarily insane. You want to start your venture to prove to the world and yourself that you know better, that you can navigate without any outside intervention.

Even if you don’t even know what a rudder is

Jim Reed © 2021 A.D.

WEBSITE

Weekly Podcast: REDCLAYDIARY

Catch Jim Reed’s Red Clay Diary podcast: https://youtu.be/DajVZHnp3Dk

or read his transcript below:

SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE REMEMBERED

In my richly textured memory of being four years old back in the 1940s, I am once again facing a Philco radio.

Just four feet away, this wood-encased time machine houses some of my favorite legendary characters.

Sister Barbara and I sit on the hard wood floor in front of the radio, gazing at the textured cloth that covers a metal speaker…a speaker that hides our heroes within.

There’s the Lone Ranger, riding away from a western solved-crime scene, as townspeople wonder aloud, “Who was that masked man?”

Later on this evening, clueless jokester Fibber McGee will verbally joust with his always patient and sweet wife Molly.

Orson Welles’ voice will vibrate the speaker when his alter ego The Shadow makes the bad guys regret their anti-social behavior.

And Jack Benny will make us laugh the hardest when he’s not saying anything at all–the longer he pauses, the more we are amused.

And so on.

The real mystery: How do all these life-sized characters manage to shrink down to the size of a radio interior for a few minutes each week?

Other puzzles of childhood haunt me.

No matter how many times I rapidly open the refrigerator door, I can’t catch the guy inside who is in charge of turning the light off and on.

My frequent attempts to push at the living room mirror, to enter the reverse world on the other side…they just don’t work. Apparently, only Alice can achieve this feat while she is inside her story.

Even when I shout SHAZAM! at the heavens, I never turn into Captain Marvel. I forever remain meek and mild Billy Batson.

When I don a tee-shirt emblazoned with the handmade felt image of a black bat, when I am complete with improvised utility belt, I don’t really become Bat Man. I just stand there in the back yard, looking around for criminals to subdue. They don’t appear.

As I progress in age, I begin to see the clear difference between reality and expectation. As I draw crayoned stories on butcher paper, as I block-letter penciled tales of wished-for adventures of derring-do, I come to realize that all stories, invented or true, exist to entertain and distract me from the more blatant events of daily life.

And even though, to this day, I love the act of imagining and wishing, I am always able to beam back to reality when needed.

I Walter Mitty my life as well as I can.

All these eons later, here I am, distracting you from the pangs and pains of life, if only for a minute or three.

My job is done here. For today, at least

Jim Reed © 2021 A.D.

WEBSITE

Weekly Podcast: REDCLAYDIARY