40th Edition of our Honeymoon

In a couple of days Pam and I will be celebrating 40 years together at one of our favorite destinations, Seven Mile Beach in the Grand Cayman Islands. It will be our third trip there and hopefully not our last.

Of course, to get there a million preparations have to be made. I have some serious business issues to fix before we can even think about getting on a plane, which is always what happens when you plan time away. The here and now asserts itself. The months leading up to May 19th this year have been among the busiest of our lives, most of the busy due to the publication of my book. We both need some down time, Pam more so than me.

I booked this trip many weeks ago and at the time didn’t notice one particular detail. On our honeymoon 40 years ago the resort we stayed at was brand new, so much so that the chords of the lamps in our room hadn’t even been unwound…and there were no light bulbs in them. Well, it turns out that the resort I booked for the Cayman’s had its grand opening on May 8th—six days ago! 

Now, if we can both get through these next 48 hours.

What a Night!

You need to throw a launch party, they said. It’s absolutely crucial for establishing momentum for your book, they explained. My takeaway from this early conversation with the marketing specialist at Atmosphere Press was…Great, a party.

Several months, and hundreds of man-hours later—mostly by others—the launch party for A Life of Dreams is in the books. It was an incredible experience in so many different ways. To distill it down into a blogpost will be a challenge. This one might be longer than most, so get yourself a snack and let’s get started.

I will not here retell the story of my wife’s immeasurable contributions to the success of this event except to say that without her creativity and devotion the entire project would have gone down in flames. She is and continues to be the one irreplaceable of my life. But, she had lots of help…

These three women make the world go round for me. Whenever something important is in the wind they show up in force. My big sister Linda is the one holding on to my shoulders—the exact position she took when I was five years old when it was time for the family photograph at Sherando Lake. She has been trying to make me stand still for all of her life. My other sister, Paula, brought her organization and work skills to bear on this party by taking charge of things, but more importantly, baking and bringing the Cowboy Cookies. Of course my two capable brothers in law got roped into this event as well and their contributions were tremendously helpful and appreciated.

Then there were a long succession of friends and family who pitched in with great skill and generosity, from serving food and drinks, to set up and tear down, all the way to the group of four Generation Whatevers who manned the sales table like maniacs on commission!!

The only important contribution I made to the evening besides actually writing the book in question was choosing the emcee. This was an easy decision since it couldn’t have been anyone other than Tom Allen. Tom, being a writer himself, knows a little about the concept and could appreciate the nuanced answer I gave when someone asked me what I did when I got writer’s block. My answer was deep and insightful, “I don’t write.” Afterwards Tom says to me, “Why didn’t I think of that?” But seriously, he handled all emcee duties flawlessly with his customary wit and lightness. Plus, he works cheap.

But then there was this…

I had been quite nervous in the days and hours leading up to the party. In fact I spent one such day in a furious wage because of a printing error that had placed the first 19 pages of someone else’s book in front of mine! To make matters worse it was a book of poetry! Very bad poetry!! Just about the time I had cooled down from that fiasco it dawned on me that I would have to read a chapter of my book in front of 135 people, something I had never done. Look, reading a book like “The Watson’s Go To Baltimore” and doing all the voices in front of 15 family members at the beach doesn’t count as public reading. Mostly because, it wasn’t my book. So, I was nervous. But then I looked out at this crowd of people and immediately felt at ease. The people in these two photographs come from many different parts of my life. I could tell you stories about each of them. There are people I’ve known all my life, some for over forty years, others just a few years. But every one of them had gone to the trouble of coming out on a stormy, rainy Monday evening in Ashland to support me and to celebrate with me. I cannot tell you how much that meant. At my age a man becomes more aware of what and who is really important. All of us spend our lives working, providing for our families, accomplishing things great and small. We worry, we fret over things. We enjoy great successes, we suffer humiliating setbacks. Eventually we lose someone dear to us and we grieve. But along with the experiences that are common to man we also, if we’re lucky, accumulate a great cloud of friends who help us through all of it. These are the people who count, the ones that belong to your small tribe, the ones who show up to listen to a 66 year old first time published author read a chapter of his book, and they smile and applaud when you’re done. When this happens you’re tempted to think that you’re one of the luckiest people in the world.

After the reading there was a surprise guest who arrived by way of a note she wrote to be read aloud by Paula. My daughter who at that hour was busy having a wilderness sleepover with 50 5th graders, sent her congratulations via a heartfelt tribute about things I wasn’t even aware I had done for her when she was a child. She spoke of how I had contributed to her love of language and writing by watching me write in my old leather bound journals back in the day. Like most dads, I wasn’t even aware she was watching all those years ago. I was so busy juggling chainsaws while riding that unicycle up on the high wire, I didn’t even notice. As I listened to Paula read I realized that I might not even be the best writer in my own family!

Pam and I got home after 10:00 and Lucy was nowhere to be found. It was as if she had vanished into this air. It had been a stormy night and she is famously terrified of thunder and hard rain. Finally we found her in the utility room where she had apparently fled during the storm only to somehow pull the door closed behind her! So she was trapped in there all night. Now we have dog-owner guilt. Maybe I should write a book!

So, if you are reading this and were in that crowd last night, from the bottom of my full heart, thank you. If not, then buy a book, read it, like it, and write a review!

A Review is In

I will write a full recap of last night’s book launch party later. It was a wonderful night that I will not soon forget. But around 20 minutes before it began I got an email from my publisher containing a review that just came in from Midwest Book Review. As nervous as I was for the start of the launch I didn’t know whether to read it or ignore it until later. After 30 seconds of internal debate I read it. The fact that it was relatively positive helped calm my nerves. I share it with you now…

In A Life of Dreams, Percy Hope’s newfound wealth has elevated him to a life of luxury and achievement that he never could have imagined. Nor could he envision losing it; but when his inheritance fades, so does the illusion of stability and success that came with it. Plagued by nightmares, Percy struggles with the aftermath of a suicide attempt, juggling various forms of success with requirements that both lend purpose to his life and test his resolve and relationships. Between gambling losses and infidelity to eventual divorce and devastation, Percy is left with only the dreams that haunt his psyche with new possibilities and deadly reflections. 

Doug Dunnevant traverses the topics of forgiveness, healing, and redemption. He portrays a middle-aged man whose objectives and approaches to life shift as money comes and goes, love ebbs and flows, and his sense of purpose is altered by death and renewal. Well-developed characters change Percy’s life in unexpected ways that are not all about success and failure, but the gray areas of perception and goals which lie in between. 

However, Percy isn’t the only one under the microscope, here. Beth, too, receives close inspection as viewpoints shift between them. Named chapter headings could have solidified these shifts with more clarity, but most readers won’t become entirely lost over the ways in which Percy and Beth find their lives entwined over family and destiny: “She had often wondered what she would feel at the first glimpse of him. Would there be any recognition? What emotion would flow to the surface: anger, resentment, fear? Nothing had prepared her for love. Her first reaction to seeing the father who had totally abandoned her was an overwhelming desire to run to him. Then, as surprising and unnerving as her first response had been, soon after, all was emotional panic. Could she bear it if he didn’t return her love, or worse, treated her with indifference?” 

The result is a thought-provoking novel of discovery and recovery that is highly recommended for libraries and readers seeking sagas of redemption that arrive with a hint of supernatural influences. These readers will welcome Percy and Beth’s realistic encounters, changing relationship, and the impact of wealth, poverty, and self-awareness on the choices each makes in life.

D. Donovan, Senior  Reviewer, Midwest Book Review

Good Humor

It has been said—by me, actually—that humor is that thing that happens when anxiety, embarrassment and ignorance collide with the truth. 

I’d kill for a Nobel Peace Prize.

99% of lawyers give the rest a bad name.

82.7% of all statistics are made up on the spot.

A conscience is what hurts when all your other parts feel so good.

A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

All those who believe in psycho kinesis, raise my hand.

The early bird might get the worm, but it’s the second mouse that gets the cheese.

Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.

I intend to live forever…So far, so good.

Why do psychics have to ask you your name?

To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism. To steal from many is research.

The problem with the gene pool is that there is no lifeguard.

If your car could travel at the speed of light, would your headlights work?

Experience is something you don’t get until just after you needed it.

Are these quotes from a famous philosopher or poet? Nope. They are from the fertile mind of a stand-up comic named Steven Wright.

The Printer Fiasco

The amount of work, planning and creativity that Pam has put into my upcoming book launch is worthy of its own book at this point. Today she had me get three of our big tables from out of the garage and place them all around the downstairs of our house, where she did a trial run of what each table would look like once decorated at the venue. I am currently sitting directly across from the Sales Table and all I can tell you is, it looks amazing. In the other room is a mock up of the food tables and a display of door prizes that she has been accumulating over the past month or two. There are boxes of serving plates, glasses, knives and forks along with cases of wine, and what feels like a dozen extra touches of grace sprinkled hither and yon. I just can’t believe how incredible it’s going to look.

Then I glance through the list of RSVP’s and am again stunned at some of the names. There are business colleagues, family members, old friends from college days, friends from Grove, friends from Hope, cousins from Gladstone, clients, and friends from our neighborhood. There are kids I taught in Sunday School 25 years ago, there are faithful readers of The Tempest who I have never even met. The numbers are off the charts and have exceeded even our most optimistic expectations.

But, nothing like this is ever easy. There are always last minute catastrophes. Ours is a ghastly error made at the printer which has made the delivery of my hardcover books impossible in time for the festivities. After venting my spleen at those responsible, we have worked out a Plan B where hardcover books are concerned and am confident that everything will work out. I’m told that one day I will look back on the printer fiasco and laugh. Maybe. It is far more likely that I won’t live long enough for that to happen. I’m thinking that every time I look back on the printer fiasco I will have to fight off an overwhelming desire to choke someone.

Be that as it may, I am so psyched for Monday night and so grateful for all the many friends who have stepped up to help us pull it off. Can’t wait to see everyone. It’s gonna be a blast.

Keeping Records

EXHIBIT A.

Whenever I get to the end of a month I find myself sorting through the multiple written summaries of my accomplishments and failures. They are all written down in my own handwriting in tidy journals and several very old school three ring binders complete with those reinforced plastic hole protectors. Pam thinks it quaint and slightly unsettling that I still refuse to use her much more efficient Google Doc system, especially when it comes to keeping my calendar—which I’m sure you’ve already guessed is of the sturdy black Week-at-a-Glance variety. This guy…

There’s no better feeling that first week of January than when you realize that you won’t have to worry about ink bleed for the rest of the year. But, I have gotten side tracked from the point I was trying to make—that I have a decades long habit of keeping score. My fitness journal above is just one of many examples of this genre. I have one for investing, budgeting, reading, and personal goals for everything you can think of, even my squirrel-kill count. (Partially kidding about the squirrel thing). Why do I do this? I have no rational answer to this question. The more difficult question would be, Why do I keep these records from twenty-five years ago?

Take EXHIBIT A. For example. I have a routine of physical fitness that goes back at least a decade or two. For years most all of this routine was accomplished at American Family Fitness, but then COVID came and they closed down and I dropped my membership. Since then it all gets done at home. I get up in the morning every other day and do a series of exercises which include things like push-ups, sit-ups, and curls with 15 pound dumbbells. In addition, I mix in a variety of road work which include walking and running and on bad weather days, a stationary bike. Many years ago I started jotting down a record of it all, Over the years I have perfected the record keeping to the place where I can fit an entire month of such exercises on one freaking page of a journal!! How’s that for efficiency, Google?

So, as you can see, I have so far in 2024 performed 2005 reps of each of these exercises, along with 171 miles of roadwork. But what does it all mean? None of it has kept me from several health setbacks in recent years. Despite all of this sweating and grinding I am still 15 pounds heavier than I was from the day I got married until the day I turned 55. Once I hit my late 50’s and early 60’s, all the exercising in the world has not been able to compensate for the discombobulating metabolism of late middle age. Yet, here I am still keeping painstaking records of my feeble attempts to turn back the clock.

Now that I think about it, what is this blog if not yet another record keeping scheme? Isn’t The Tempest merely an eleven year record of my thoughts and feelings about stuff? Maybe it will come in handy one day long after I’m dead and gone. Maybe one of my grandchildren will ask their parents a question like, I wonder what Pops thought about COVID? Wonder what his view of the pitch clock rule in baseball? What did he think of Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, or Donald Trump? Then my kids will answer, “Are you kidding? You don’t ever have to wonder what Pops thought about anything, cause he wrote down every spare scrap of an idea that ever came into his head back in the day in this crazy blog.” Of course, then the grandchildren will ask, “What the heck is a blog?”

Turning the Page

At the onset of a new month, May of 2024 seems daunting…

May 6th—Book Launch party.

May 7th—Publication Date, A Life of Dreams.

May 11th—Kaitlin’s birthday.

May 12th—Mother’s Day

May 16-20—40th wedding anniversary, (19th), celebration in the Cayman Islands.

May 25th—Patrick’s birthday

May 28th—Fly to Atlanta to attend Braves v. Nationals game with Patrick.

Of course, there are many others things that should be sprinkled into this mix. Four Friday morning Cafe shifts. A Saturday at Hope Thrift. Pam’s last day of work on the 10th. Many client meetings at work. Lots of yard work. Several robust walks with Lucy. Sunday’s at Hope. What is sure to be a daily obsession with the sales numbers of A Life of Dreams. 

But it will all be over in a vaporous instant, and June will come into sharper focus. June will bring with it Maine and all of her delights. Then, May will be a memory, and I’ll wonder why on earth I thought it was so daunting.

We have a calendar in our kitchen. Of course, it features photographs from Maine. When we are a couple days away from a new month I always flip the page early to get a peak at the new picture. In real life, we don’t enjoy this privilege, we must take each day as it comes…