Catch Jim’s Red Clay Diary podcast: https://youtu.be/h1WApKQduHw

or read the 4-minute transcript below…

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Life, actually…

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GRUMBLINGS OF MUTINY, WEAPONS OF PEACE

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“Arrgh,” mumbles Jimmy Three, the junkyard kid who is straining to be old and tough and unbeatable.

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He is rehearsing for the day he will face bullies and ne’er-do-wells on the playground. Maybe yelling “Arrgh” will put those toughies and toadies in their place, should he encounter them any time soon.

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Jimmy Three is not a prodigy. He knows words and phrases like arrgh and ne’er-do-wells and toughies and toadies and bullies, because he reads books for pleasure and ecstatic diversion.

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He’s actually never heard anybody yell “Aargh!” in real life, but the stories he enjoys are filled with dangerous-sounding things like aargh.

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So, basing his attitude toward self-defense upon illustrated pages he adores, Jimmy Three stands before the full-length living room mirror and, when nobody else is present, tries to transmogrify into an ageless strongman that fellow nine-year-olds would not dare confront.

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He decides aargh needs to sound scarier, so he yells, “AARGH!” at his reverse-image self.

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Maybe I shouldn’t smile when I do this, he decides.

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Making a ferocious face and glaring piercingly at the mirror, he screams “AARGH!” with full-fanged teeth bared.

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He almost scares himself, so he feels it is logical to assume this posturing will also scare potential enemies.

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He practices strutting like a don’t-mess-with-me fairy tale hero. Then, becoming aware that he is wearing summer short pants and a scruffy tee-shirt, no shoes and a crew cut, he starts to giggle. Jimmy Three realizes that no matter how awesome he pretends to be, he is actually merely a scrawny kid with nothing but dreams and imaginings to get him through the day.

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“I guess I better not try to be what I can’t be. I’ll just get one-upped and shoved aside as usual.”

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This nine-year-old reality-check encourages him to use the defenses he already knows.

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When a bully approaches from afar, Jimmy Three quickly makes himself invisible behind a tree or a trash can. What Big Bubba doesn’t see cannot become his victim.

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Should Bullyboy bump into him, thus noting he is not invisible, Jimmy Three resorts to his Bugs Bunny defense. He cracks a smart-aleck remark so silly that it temporarily confuses the enemy. Jimmy Three uses that moment to poof! out of sight and live another day.

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One smarty pants remark usually works. He glances at the invisible watch on his wrist and suddenly exclaims, “Oops! Gotta go. I left my baby on the bus!” Bullybrain is confused by  this non sequitur and double-takes the empty space just held by his intended victim.

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Jimmy Three adds another day to his artful dodger life.

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To heck with “Aargh!” thinks Jimmy Three. I can just keep my mouth running and my feet moving and maybe, just maybe, find a way to weave and dance my way through life.

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He returns to the pages of his real life, the one contained within books

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© Jim Reed 2025 A.D.

Listen to today’s podcast:

 http://redclaydiary.com/mp3/waybackwhenweknewmore.mp3

or read Jim’s story below:

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WAY BACK WHEN, WHEN WE KNEW MORE THAN WE KNOW RIGHT NOW

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I go fishing for books now and then. I just rev up the old bookmobile, pop open what we down here call a Soft Drink, turn on the radio, and head Thataway, never knowing what adventures will impose themselves upon me.

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My routine treks among the hills, valleys and byways of rural Alabama give me time to ponder and think and reminisce and wonder.

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Sometimes I have to switch the radio off to clear my head, especially when I hear just one too many grating grammar errors. The announcer says, ”The price of cigarettes have gone up.”

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Is she aware that she have made a grammatical error?

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Another radio announcer constantly refers to somebody called Utha Listener, never once explaining who Utha might be.

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Yet another voice pontificates, “They have just showed up.”

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She’s never been showed how to use shown correctly.

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I go through a train crossing, noticing that some railroad cars do not have graffiti coating their sides. Somebody has fallen down on the job.

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Howlin’ Wolf’s song pops into memory and makes me forget the errors and typos of the world around me and just feel some joy for a moment, “My baby she’s a good-looking thing you know…she’s the one who spins me round and round, one who turns me upside down” Now, that’s Love!

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I pass town water towers that look somewhat like the steel-legged robots H.G. Wells imagined were filled with invading Martians. I recall that I have actually seen one of these mechanisms, a tall shiny facsimile in the town square at Woking, England, near where the attackers landed.

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Cruising past strip malls, I observe many women and men and children getting out of their cars, parents elaborately extracting squirming kids from car seats, lifting the ones who still like to be lifted and grumbling back at grumbling kids who like to grumble.

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It’s fun to pay attention. So many people I see are not watching, not looking around to see what’s what. What thrills they are missing!

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Every image, each person, seems to be about me, about my life. It’s impossible to close them out, difficult to forget them.

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My fishing day is fruitful. I gather some special books here and there, hear sounds that make me cringe and smile, see faces and shadows that awaken my senses, and get to look behind things to see what I might be overlooking.

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There are probably worse ways to spend a morning in the gossipy and secretive hills of sweet Alabama

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© Jim Reed 2025 A.D.

Catch Jim’s 3-minute original podcast:

https://youtu.be/upQKKPXQVgE

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Life, actually…

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FIRST, YOU DREAM

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Carl Sandburg said it, and I’m glad somebody did:

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“Nothing happens unless first a dream.”

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What was that?

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“Nothing happens unless first a dream.”

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Carl Sandburg’s words keep haunting me as I go through the motions of getting ready for another day to envelop me.

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Ever since I met Carl Sandburg in Tuscaloosa, back in the late 1950’s, I’ve found pleasure and hope in his words. But today, driving down these grey streets, I’m reminded once again that great thoughts have incredible staying power, if only we will preserve them.

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Anyhow, I’m passing an intersection. On my left, a loft dweller is walking his large dog, pausing at the corner to wait for the traffic light, wait for a poop break.

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Coming toward the dog man is one of the village’s scruffy street people, one who, along with dozens of others, works the avenues for cigarette butts and quarters.

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The dog man is about to be solicited, but for a brief diverting moment, the street guy loses his attention, forgets his spiel, his story about why the dog guy should give him money.

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He forgets because he sees the large dog and freezes in place.

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Maybe he’s afraid, I think to myself. But no, he is not afraid. Suddenly, he’s a younger, more dapper version of himself. He bends over the dog, places his ragged-gloved hands on each side of its head, and pets him in a gentle and warm manner, smiling ear to ear and talking with the animal as if he’s his best friend.

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The dog responds and the two have 25 seconds of bliss, looking into each others’ eyes, one panting while the other laughs. Then, as suddenly as it begins, the moment disappears, the dog man continuing his leashed walk, the ragged man putting on his best streetdwelling face and heading the other way on his daily rounds.

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The observer man (me) continues driving by, feeling a bit warmer and remembering all those endless childhood summer days when he and his dog Brownie ran the streets of the village and knew without doubt that they would live forever.

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Is the 25-second-smile enough to sustain the wandering man, enough to make him remember a childhood dream pet, enough to make him feel life is worth facing a few extra days, just to re-live wonderful old memories?

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Is the dream of a better time enough to make the dog owner and the observer decide to do something besides dream, decide to make some extra effort for untethered villagers, give some extra time to nudging someone else toward a better life?

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“Nothing happens unless first a dream.”

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Thanks, Carl. Thanks, homeless guy. Thanks, dog man. Thanks, Dog and Brownie.

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You’ve all provided me with the dream I need to make something happen

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© Jim Reed 2025 A.D.

Catch Jim’s 3-minute podcast: https://youtu.be/MAbPWaZpk8s

or read the transcript below:

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Life, actually…

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BUT WAIT–THERE’S MORE!

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“While you are still alive, try to enjoy the things you won’t miss when you are dead.”

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Where did that thought come from? It suddenly appeared from somewhere inside my head.

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Guess what this means?

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Just when I thought it was safe to put aside my latest book and its sequel, yet another book is forming without my permission. The first book, “What I Said,” was forty years in the making. The sequel to “What I Said” is called “What More Can I Say?” It just popped out when I thought my brain was depleted of short wisecrackery remarks that might cause laughter or tears.

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Once the original book and its sequel were out and about, I thought I could move on to my next, unrelated projects.

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That is not the case. Suddenly my mind is streaming all these things that cry out to be heard. So far, fifty thoughts have invaded this sequel-to-the-sequel.

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The title, “But Wait—There’s More!” seems to be appropriate.

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Have you had enough background?

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Want to hear the first ten thoughts of my next book? It may take years to complete, so here’s your chance to tell others you got here first.

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10 ONE-PAGE THOUGHTS FOR MY NEXT BOOK, “BUT WAIT—THERE’S MORE!”

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“The future isn’t what it was last week.”

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“Is premature death different from mature death?”

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“I prefer pitted prunes to pitied prunes.”

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“The diapers they are a-changing.”

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“Sometimes people will actually tell you how they are doing. Dang!”

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“He was arrested for public plant propagation.”

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“Why does it feel good to believe what is convenient, even if it is fake?”

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“Each day something almost happens.”

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“Rule of life 431: Always keep an ALDI quarter on hand.”

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“Return her smile, even if it is a doofus smile. She will love it because it is unexpected and unrequested.”

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There you go. Ten inexplicable thoughts designed to lease space in your imaginings for a few seconds.

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Stay tuned for more meaninglessness. It’s out there

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© Jim Reed 2025 A.D.

Catch Jim Reed’s Red Clay Diary at

https://youtu.be/EdhvRpzWOX8

or read his transcript below:

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Life, actually…

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THE FORTY-FIVE-YEAR-OLD BOOK TOTE

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Forty-five years! That’s how long it has been since I established Reed Books/The Museum of Fond Memories. Forty-five years ago.

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All I can say is, Yikes!

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For forty-five years I’ve done what I can do. Just trying to provide browsers and fans with the great and insignificant questions, the great and insignificant answers, through millions of pages of wisdom and silliness.

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Questions such as, “Just how much does succotash suffer?”

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Questions like, “If you spread sunshine all over the place, won’t that annoy insomniacs?”

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And how about this? “If Mary had a little lamb, wouldn’t there be hearings about a possible ban on gene splicing?”

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And “How much does a forty-five-year-old book tote weigh?”

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And so on and so forth.

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These questions and a thousand others are perhaps the most important questions. All those other questions about the meaning of life and the pursuit of happiness will be debated forever plus at least one day.

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The sensuous pleasure of turning textured pages just to see what surprises they hide…that’s the precious aha! worth having.

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Drop by and wish us well. And ask a few questions. We can troll the stacks to find the answer that serves the moment.

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The moment after that moment belongs to you

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© Jim Reed 2025 A.D.

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www.jimreedbooks.com