A Place in the World

“The times you lived through, the people you shared those times with — nothing brings it all to life like an old mix tape. It does a better job of storing up memories than actual brain tissue can do. Every mix tape tells a story. Put them together, and they can add up to the story of a life.” Rob Sheffield.

Fiction writing is about balance. Too much of a good thing is still too much. So, when I get feedback from other writers, people I trust, who say "Too much" I listen to them.

Sequel works play this balance to the hilt. At some point, any writer worth their web page wants their reader to feel, not just know, that the character has a past that begs exploring. It is way too obvious to insert "Here, you might want to pause and buy the first/second book in this series." So, hints are necessary once in a while.

But, it may be one of those cases where life doesn't imitate art. Maybe it's the other way around. Fixing dinner, listening to music from my smartphone (what an amazing time to be alive). Dan Fogelberg, straight out of the '70s.

There's a place in the world for a gambler. There's a burden that only he can bear.

The 1976 Winter Olympics took place in Innsbruck, Austria. Among the memorable moments was the downhill run of Austrian Franz Klammer, the favorite. He skied last in the group from which the winner would surely emerge, on a gorgeous day in the Alps. The call by Frank Gifford (1930-2015) and Bob Beattie built to a crescendo as Klammer flirted with disaster ("He's almost into the hay bales, Frank!" Beattie screamed after one moment of mortal peril). Behind most of the race, Klammer pulled out the gold by the slimmest of margins. 

NBC put together a slow motion montage of Klammer's winning run, interspersing bits of the Gifford/Beattie call. Overlaid was Fogelberg's song - beautiful, haunting, simple. Perfect. Klammer had gambled, and he'd won, the calm in the eye of every storm.

I was all of twenty-one, living with my parents, preparing for my cross-country cycling adventure and helping coach a hockey team. It was a year of supple physical strength, boundless energy and limitless dreams. There were few guarantees for the future, but there was always a place for a gambler.

This was a mix tape with only one song, recalling deeply buried memories of a past that was filled with hope, supported by love. 

Facebook let me know, between chopping carrots and cooking chicken nuggets, that someone else had commented on a picture of me, holding my granddaughter's hand - Donuts and Airplanes at DIA with daughter Katy and her children. 

There's a place in the world
For a gambler
There's a burden that only
He can bear
There's a place in the world
For a gambler,
And he sees
Oh, yes he sees