Back When We Were Tent Dwellers

/

We lived in a small pup tent when we first got married. For some reason people seemed to think we were peculiar. I never gave a second thought to what unimaginative people thought. We were living an adventure.

Our stint on the Rogue River was only one summer long, but it was packed with adventures. You see, I lived with the notion that adventure and imagination were interwoven. Our tent was sufficient as a home, and the river provided us with an endless supply of exploration and discovery. Wild creatures were a few threads of fabric away from our bed, which simply made the whole event real. It was the perfect honeymoon!

We got our water from a spring. We ate a lot of wild blackberries and took our baths in the Rogue River. Black bears were abundant, if not amicable, neighbors and deer walked through camp every day. It was a twelve mile round trip hike to the Agness post office where we had a box. I guess we would have been classified as homeless by today's bureaucrats.

We were not actually homeless, it was much worse than that. Back then I assumed I was normal.

Somewhere along the line, we bartered our way into the possession of a DC3 inner tube and suddenly we owned the river. Mind you, we did not have sense enough to wear life jackets when we shot the rapids … it is probably a miracle we survived that part.

Our three-days-per-week post office provided us with a schedule to live by, so we made that trek on those days. At least once per week we included a detour to the store, such that it was, on the other side of the river. That only added six miles to our trip, which rounded it off to an eighteen mile hike. Yes, hike, like walking, with our feet. Together we could do that trip in three hours and forty-five minutes. Alone I could do it in just under three hours, but that was really getting it on. I was a lot younger thirty-odd years ago.

Because I was under the delusion that I was normal, it seemed to me that everyone else suffered from a profound lack of imagination. It turns out that normal people do not have intense, vivid, wildly imaginative dreams. And they certainly do not act on those dreams. I've since come to grips with the fact that I may not be normal.

I've heard that some people read more than one book at a time. I have eight … that I am currently writing … of the twenty three that I have slated. You tell me, is that normal?

Don't Worry Mom, I Didn't Talk to Any Strangers Today!

/

My kindergarten career lasted two years. It was a long, stressful time of my life. A time filled with kids who wanted to invade my personal space and even engage me in conversation.

I was too smart to be drawn into any of those traps. Planet Familiar was secure inside my head and Planet Alien was everywhere else. As frightening as it was, it turned out to be an effective training ground. By the end of my second year, I could anticipate the logarithmic movements of a playground mob and surreptitiously take evasive action. It was fairly simple to avoid contact except for the teachers.

The teachers were somewhat of a wild card in playground dynamics. While they had a generally predictable pattern amongst themselves, occasionally they would conspire to entrap me and engage me with crowd torture. Crowd torture usually involved abusive statements along the lines of: “You should go play with the other kids. It will be fun!”

I would have preferred to be locked in the broom closet. Those kids were strangers! The teachers were strangers! When those dangerous confrontations would arise, I would slink away into one of my pre-calculated escape routes. To me, watching the crowd of kids was entertaining, engaging with them was not an option.

I'm sure if I was a little kid today, I would have to be seen by some expert who would label me an extreme introvert, possibly Asperger's, and whatever the opposite of ADD is.

Fortunately I did not have to endure the examination of a behavior “expert.” I eventually came out of my shell, sort of. I can function in public like a human being. I can ask directions if I must. And I can offer a helping hand to unknown, to me, people when the situation arises. In a short five decades, I've come a long way.

Or maybe not.

Recently, while on a sortie in a store, I all but walked past our pastor's wife. I was certainly not trying to avoid her. She is a gracious lady who is always very affirming. I just did not see her until the last second, because I was inside my bubble, locked in on my mission.

Yes, I was tired. Yes, I had a long to-do list. Yes, I had all the right reasons. But the truth is, when in doubt, I had reverted to my familiar comfort zone. It would seem that after a half century, I really haven't progressed so much after all. It's kind of lame, but it's also amusing. I suppose if I can't laugh at myself, who can I laugh at. Maybe I should just get a pack of crayons and sit quietly in the corner with a coloring book.

Back to the Drawing Board

/

That title may sound like I have given up on something vital. No, I have not. That is actually a name.

What kind of parents, you may ask yourself, would name their child "Back to the Drawing Board?" Ahh, now we are getting somewhere. That is the name of the business owned by Shawna Apps! Shawna is the very talented artist with whom I am collaborating. She will be the illustrator of my children's books.

Yes, you read that correctly, it was plural books. There will be more than one. Book two is in the works already.

Sample patches. The process is very cool!

Sample patches. The process is very cool!

So what's with the picture? Is it test patches? It is indeed test patches, and I invite you to check out Shawna's work and keep up with our progress on the books. The picture should link you to the Facebook page. Be sure to Like the page, I'm sure you will not be disappointed.

Stay tuned! This is going to be good!