Hear Jim’s 4-minute true-story podcast:  https://youtu.be/e9VUrU7rLyg

or read his story below…

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Life, actually…

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FROM SMUGLY TO SNUGGLY IN ONE LIFETIME

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“It is useless to attempt to reason a man out of a thing he was never reasoned into.”

–Jonathan Swift

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I suppose that this Jonathan Swift quote I just came across is just as true today as it seemed way back when.

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During my extended journey from dolt-age to dotage I have been reasoned and de-reasoned in and out of temporary truths…again and again.

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During my misspent youth I believed in, then dis-believed in, flying saucers and grisly things that go BOO in the night. Can’t say that I am smarter now, it is just that I don’t believe in them anymore. More accurately, they don’t occupy space in my imagination anymore.

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Other things that were seemingly true and real for a jiffy don’t weigh on my mind as they once did. I’ve had failed flings with a dozen isms, a modicum of romances, a taste for all things chocolate, an obsession with trading cards, a belief in this braggart or that braggart. All have arisen, all have become jaded and faded.

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What replaced all these mini obsessions? What if anything occupies my better spirits? Is all seduce-ability gone bye-bye?

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Every time I’m ready to build my wings and flail about in some far-off cause or far-flung fantasy, I tend to blink. Blinking pulls me back to the land of earthlings and face-to-face realities.

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Blinking clears the vision, simplifies the circuitous ramblings of pundits and philosophers and politicians and wise guys. Blinking grounds me, astounds me, with its simplicity.

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Simplicity is so complicated. Once embraced, I can see what’s before me, I can allow focus to resume. I can clap my hands in pleasure. I can re-examine what is real and concrete, what is unique and blatantly important.

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What seems corny in our times of snarky-ness, in our days of cynicism and shaming…what seems corny is that CORNY is the new reality, the forever reality.

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Corny means not only loving the good in people, corny means acting out this love, actually saying kind and comforting things, actually taking time to listen and respond and give back. Actually being a good example for others to emulate. How is that for ultimate corniness?

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Also, corny can replace those emotionally-charged but infinitely useless minutes that can make you doubt hope and abandon good deeds. Corniness can cause you to become useful, make you matter, fill you with hope and possibility.

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If you decide to follow the path of emotional maturity you may see that you are acting out the person you always were. Maybe that person was timid for a while. But boldness in the cause of spreading goodness and mercy is not such a bad thing.

“It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”

–Mark Twain

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Join the convoy and see where it takes you. You just may become a spreader of random acts of surprisingly fun times

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© 2026 A.D. by Jim Reed

Hear Jim’s Red Clay Diary podcast:

https://youtu.be/JZwVCVRNs_g

or read today’s story below…

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Life, actually…

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DOWN-SOUTH NOTES ON HOW TO NOTICE BOOKS AND BOOKIES

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As curious booklookers stream into my bookshop each day, things happen. You know, Things Happen.

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Browsers want to know stuff.

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“Have you read all these books?” That’s like asking a shoestore manager, “Have you worn all these shoes?”

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“Where’s your oldest book? I just want to see your oldest book.” Like going into a convenience store and asking, “Where is the oldest expire-date candy bar section?”

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“I just read history. Got any?” I want to ask, “History of snails, history of street repair, history of grumpy old men?” What is the customer’s idea of “history” books?

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I like helping browsers find something worthy of adoption. But first I must de-layer and decipher exactly what the potential customer is asking for.

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For some, “history” just means books about the Civil War. Down South, this usually means only books about the Down South idea of what the conflict was all about. History is in the heart of the beholder.

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There are two ways to answer the “Have you read all these books?” question. If lightheartedness seems appropriate I’ll reply, “Yep. I’ve read them all.” Depending on whether the asker gets the joke, I’ll add, “Except this book–the one right here. Haven’t finished it yet.”

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Of course the gag is obvious to most, but for some it seems like a reasonable answer. If you haven’t been raised in a reading environment, or if you’ve seldom read anything voluntarily, you just might believe someone could read a few hundred thousand books in a bookstore.

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I don’t judge, I just bemuse and observe.

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As to the matter of examining a centuries-old book, I enjoy getting to know the customer’s motivation better before bringing out an ancient volume.

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If the customer is simply gawking, with no intention of learning or reading beyond sightseeing, I might hesitate, perhaps only complying when there are no other customers awaiting assistance. But it is fun, showing off a 500-year-old book.

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Helping all customers properly is pretty much impossible. It pleasures me to hand someone the exact edition of the precise book being requested. It disappoints me to announce that a book is not available today—just sold my last copy yesterday.

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So in a bookstore, things happen. Books are cherished, adopted, recited aloud, hugged, occasionally chewed on (toddlers run loose sometimes), ordered, read within the shop, placed on hold, even put on layaway as we say in this part of the nation.

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The secret of running a joyful book emporium is to observe and assist, not criticize. The secret of running a bookstore is to see a favorite book through the eyes of an avid collector, not wonder why anyone would waste time reading this particular author. The secret of running a cathedral of books is to swim among the titles and find the secret behind every page. There’s always a secret to be found, even hiding behind the most inconspicuous-looking covers.

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You can dive into a bookstore and hone in or home in on what you want today. Or you can declare today a holiday and just wander the aisles, stop on a dime, close your eyes, reach for an unknown and unknowing author. Then, undercover of night and blanket, flashlight at the ready, surprise yourself by getting to know the words of a stranger…a stranger who spent years dreaming up and constructing the story you now hold open undercover

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© 2026 A.D. by Jim Reed

Hear Jim’s 3-minute true-story podcast: https://youtu.be/G_L4MrqTEtU

or read his tale below…

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Life, actually…

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PLEASE DON’T CORRECT ME, ESPECIALLY WHEN I’M WRONG

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Truth be told, the whole truth and nothing but the whole truth is seldom revealed in polite company.

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I was raised and tutored in the ways of good manners and positive social interchange. My parents extolled the virtues of kindness and the golden rule.

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I cherish these ideals and wish that I could be a well-behaved icon of excellent behavior.

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Of course, hard as I try I often fall short of posturing myself as an exemplary role model.

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This is not false modesty, mind you. I do come through now and then, now and then doing the right thing and helping others survive their plights.

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But I am far far distanced from perfection, perhaps because of membership in the human species. Perhaps because I am a gumbo of good and bad and naughty and nice, stirred not shaken.

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My silent urge to correct and improve those among us who are flawed, just doesn’t work. I’ve learned you can possess great knowledge about the ways things should be. But I’ve also noted that pointing out the Right Way to direction-challenged people has no effect whatsoever on their subsequent actions.

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Indeed, often the best way to assure bad behavior is to tell someone it is better to behave. It’s a challenge to them. I’ve wasted my breath. The equivalent of demanding that plate tectonics must cease immediately.

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Not sure what my point is, but I do know this: humans be human and there is not much each of us can do to stop or slow down the drift.

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What I can do is stubbornly continue to follow my parents’ advice, when and if I can.

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I know that this is the right thing to do. I know that I will succeed. I know that I will fail. I hope that in the long run I will succeed more than fail.

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And I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I’m not worth much if I don’t try and try again and again to resist the shadows

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© 2026 A.D. by Jim Reed

Hear Jim’s Red Clay Diary: https://youtu.be/Y-XnBkTIN5Q

or read his story below…

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Life, actually…

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FRIENDS OF THE TALKING GAS PUMP

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Routine activities help structure my day. Without these routines the clock would advance even more erratically.

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I need my routines. Add just a few pleasant surprises and the brew grows more flavorful. Toss in an unattractive distraction or two and I begin to mumble and grow disoriented.

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It is enough that life spews distractions and shrapnel in my path. It is satisfying that most days, these gnats are just no-see-ums I grow used to swatting aside.

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However…

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Just when I’ve completed decades of slow-growing acceptance of this daily stew, somebody finds a new way to throw me off course.

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At the convenience store gas pump I meditatively insert my credit card and await the sucking sound of money removal. I’m used to that. But suddenly a hyper-happy voice emanates from the instruction screen, demanding that I consider the immediate purchase of candy and sugared fizz drinks and two-for-one-today-only cup holders.

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The jolly words equate with BREAKING NEWS announcements and overly medicated dancers holding pizza parlor posters beside the road. They seem to belong to a union of speed bump denizens. They include large lighted billboards with messages that disappear faster than I can read them.

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I thought that not listening to commercial radio stations while driving would bring calm and peace to a troubled mind. But even my beloved Public Radio station self-promotes with a rapid-fire frequency similar to its competitors’ ads. Preaching to the choir. Jolly yelling.

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Geez.

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This must be grumpy-time on an otherwise lovely morning.

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When I was a child, door-to-door salespeople would knock at Mother’s door to hawk their wares. I’ve seen foot-on-the-threshold ploys up close. I recognize you had better-pay-close-attention moves of every kind.

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Some folks enjoy this form of attention and distraction. For some reason I prefer to be gently wooed by sales forces too big to be ignored.

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Don’t yell. Don’t call me eight times a day with UNAVAILABLE caller ID signals. Don’t send endless streams of emails, do not add incessant pop-ups to my screens, don’t freeze my computer long enough to hustle me.

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Being a contrarian, I will boycott each and every company that forcefully hazes me. I will give due respect to any entity that approaches me in a non-threatening manner and appears to listen to my reply. I prefer discourse and exchange. I respond negatively to aggressive pitches. I prefer polite humans to cheerful robots.

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I’m that village elder who likes to spend money pleasurably. I am not that fragile dude who looks like a pushover for an overpriced purchase.

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I am every merchant’s dream customer if treated with respect

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© 2026 A.D. by Jim Reed