Tinker

 

Paddle-Happy

 

Bright morning, light wind, high tide, and a harbor seal or two out in the harbor.  

Conversations with the Classics and Beyo

 

Debt? Thank You, Dad!

 

Debts: 50 years ago?

When I was a middle-schooler, my father, who seemed to think fantasy and sword&sorcery and anything not sports were silly, picked up three tickets for the local high school's production of The Hobbit. He didn't tell me it was a musical, which I would have recoiled from. Instead, it was all a surprise as he, my mother, and I waited for the play to begin. I had a fine time, and I treasure the memory. More than anything, I reflect on how my dad noticed something I loved, countered his bias against the subject matter, countered my bias against a musical, and was willing to be there too. 

He came to most of my swim meets as well, bless him. The one parent cheering for our high school team. My friends appreciated that too. We lost more than we won.

I wasn't the star athlete my father wanted--that was G my middle brother and H my oldest brother--but he found ways to connect that I did not appreciate in the hurly burly of my teenage years. I am sorry for my blindness now.

Captain: One Year Ago

 

So far away now.

A bridge too far?

A reunion devotedly to be wished.

Tinker: Cat, Wizard, Dragon

 

Charybdis

 

Eddy, South of Van Damme

Mendocino, 2015 or 2017.

My best capture of a whirlpool in motion.

I should be more patient.

Rainy Morning Comforts

 

Dorothy Dunnett Day is Approaching

 

I picked up some decent Scotch for toasting, though not Dunnett 's favored Orkney Highland Park.

Totemic

 

Board Meeting: Homer's Odyssey

 

Blue Dream

 

Richardson Bay, 2020.

Paddle-happy.

Locust Street launch.

Comfort Reading

 

The End of the Road

 

The beginning of the bay.

Locust Street launch-spot.

Cats!

 

Romanesque

 

Groatsworth: Oatmeal Stout

 

Thursday afternoon break.

Armistice Brewery.

Rereading around.

Cognitive Hooks

 

Lady, Enlightened

 

Fresh Ink

 

Night Roll Call

 

The Best Writing?

 Truck ruminations:

Good writing? I can define or describe that. That's my day job.  The best writing? That is trickier.

The best writing carries me forward or backward, flood-like, whatever my inclinations.  The best writing surprises me in small or gigantic ways, but always in service to the story, whatever that means.  Awakening curiosity or empathy, perhaps forcing such: well, that's the spine, the spoor, the Cain's mark of the very best writing.

Long commute, you know?

New Reading: Lev Grossman's "The Bright Sword"

 

41 pages in, and I am hooked.

A Bit of Scotch and Scottish

 

Old Dog New Tricks, Classically Speaking

 

Tinker Time

 

Scottish Theme Of Sorts

 

Tinker and Edradour

 

Sleepy Tink

 

Happy Autumn!

 

Remembering Captain

 

Captain, giving me what-for for having been out in the backyard.  He preferred me inside the house.

One year ago yesterday.

Miss that boy.

Drake's Bay: 1980

 

Keith, Gary, and John.

Good times in our youth.

Lady, Helping

 

Happy Birthday, Dad

 My father would have been 91 yesterday.

A good memory here.

Miserable, wet day charter-foshing on Monterey Bay, but good for all that.

Moody