“The result of a consistent and total substitution of lies for factual truth is not that the lie will now be accepted as truth and truth be defamed as a lie, but that the sense by which we take our bearings in the real world … [gets] destroyed.”HANNAH ARENDT 

I gotta tell you, I can’t recall the last time it felt like I had to drop everything and write you a story. There is a kind of excitement that feels unfamiliar and I know why. I have been laboring over recent stories, because there is nothing good to say. Sure, you can come up with them. You just have to work really hard to patch your thoughts and feelings together in a way that lets the reader feel it was worth their time.

So, there I was, lying on my back on my yoga mat. After 35 years of doing the exact same series of poses, I haven’t bothered to learn their names. Anyway, I was just getting settled and a familiar piano riff by Bruce Hornsby and the Range came over my Alexa contraption. OK, it was gift from my son. I really got tired of the standard voice and switched to an Aussie guy, but it is still Alexa, which makes me think it’s a trans-electronic voice.

I am busting to tell this story and all I had to do was hear Bruce sing to get me going. I have written about most everything in my life, but their meaning can change as  I change. Recently, I have been trying to find a way to explain what has been stripped from America. On a deeply personal level, I got some clarity lying on the yoga mat.

First, you’re owed an explanation about the Bruce Hornsby business. After 42 years of living in NYC, I made a huge move. The world of broadcast advertising was my world there for about 20 years and that’s a long time. My teenage sons were there, too. Christ, I was born there and pretty much never left and vacations don’t count.

Needless to say, it was shocking news to all. It was met with a combination of envy and disdain. Who picks his ass up, gets in his Dodge Colt with a moon roof and drives to Santa Fe, NM? Not only that, he buys a small, Adobe home, sitting on five acres, adjacent to thousands of BLM acreage? He’s got no job, not much money and a couple of contacts?

Oh, here is the deal with Bruce. I got some going away presents from business friends. One of them was a cassette case, filled with specially recorded ones. I had a ghetto blaster and headset. Can’t forget the dozen rolled joints, can we? I really wasn’t accustomed to music through a headset either and it was like a Radio City Music Hall of the mind. Don’t forget those joints. It was a long, lonely drive and music was my passenger. I fell in love with Bruce Hornsby and the Range, Paul Simon’s Graceland, Bob Marley’s Legends. It was the soundtrack for a kind of birth.

The reason why this feels like a story for today is because when I attempt to recapture those long ago feelings, they could never take root today. The soul soil is too arid now. Honestly, I have no idea where the juice came from to do such a wonderfully, crazy thing. I felt totally fearless back then, which blows my mind today. The idea of spending the rest of my life in a kind of jail became impossible. I can remember it and have moments when I can touch it. Today, we are all looking through real and imaginary bars, restricting our choices. Freedom is life’s dessert and it doesn’t even need a candle.

I had an incredible life in Santa Fe and have no idea why I was so fortunate. I don’t want to get into all the things I did during my 15 years there. You’d probably think I was bullshitting you, because that’s how outrageous it was. I think what is worth highlighting is the fact I was able to do so many things. It was a time of possibility, never looking over your shoulder.

Finally, we are getting to why I wanted to write this story. My writing voice has always been contemporary, me writing in the moment. After writing my worst-selling memoir, I don’t devote much time to describing my past, well not that much. Finally, I can make some goddamn sense of this story, what got me going in the first place. When I heard Bruce, it hit me. Thank you for bearing with me. You think this shit is easy?

I remember that time in my life very well. I can’t believe I was so determined and fearless. I was 42 years old and as far as I was concerned, my life had finally begun. Now, get ready, because I am going to mention a word you never hear anymore. Ladies and Gentlemen, that word is “optimism”. It is not only missing from our vocabulary today, it is missing from our lives and that is what got me going on this little ditty.

Well, that is not exactly true. This past year has been an absolute nightmare for many of us. It is worse than that, because it is all day, all the time. It has been exhausting for me and I’m being kind. Trying to write about it has made it excruciating. It has worn me out and left invisible bruises. I can’t let it beat me, not after all this time. I want to find out how it all ends, because it will, because it always does.

What the fuck are we doing here? You know, you are supposed to be able to do what I did back in ’87. So, when I heard Bruce, I was magically transported to a time when the only restrictions on us were self-imposed. Promise was not a mirage, it lived in so many of our lives, because it belongs. 

As a rule, I have a real shitty memory. However, I clearly remember pulling off a dirt road on to a dead-end dirt road and coming upon my adobe womb in the high desert country for the second time. The first time, I bought it. I couldn’t believe I pulled it off. Listen, nothing about this move was easy. It was huge. It was very emotional, a maximum understatement. I don’t want to romanticize that journey, because it was much more layered than that. It is with me always.

I am thinking of the difference between waking up then and now. I miss it. I live for the light and the darkness has been choking these days. 

Close your eyes. You can still see the light. You can hear Bruce. Please don’t lose hope. 

LISTEN TO IT HERE:

https://www.buzzsprout.com/admin/1292459/episodes/18598555-bruce