This is my 10th year in North Carolina. I exited Des Moines on a Monday morning with all my possessions stuffed into my car and arrived in Charlotte on a Tuesday night in a rainstorm worthy of a Hollywood back lot.
One of the elephants in the room, or at least my room, is the decade that has passed since a chain of events dispersed the four of us to different parts of the nation; California, Illinois, Minnesota and North Carolina.
Time heals all. Thus a trial balloon has been floated about the possibility for the four of us to reunite, to talk of our separate yet shared pasts and to assure each other that things are indeed okay.
April 4, 2016
Ellen/Reid: Ellen, my head is still spinning from that hilarious FaceTime last night. I mean, the camera was never still for one moment. It was like the family version of the Blair Witch Project. The girls are just an absolute riot. Emma is, well, Emma and Georgia is just coming into her own little personality. Poor Tim was getting climbed by those two munchkins as if he were a mountain. But that’s what makes you guys special.
Reid, it was great to talk this weekend. Really, find out from DePaul when the graduation ceremony is. I want to be there and it would be good for you to walk across the stage (do they even do that anymore?). It would just be a good excuse to get up Chicago way. For the both of you, we need to push the family reunion envelope. Your mom and I haven’t done anything beyond thinking it would be a good idea for us to get together. Zero other thought has gone into it, but I would propose Santa Fe sometime in the fall. We’ve been there before and know the town well. You could bring Liz and Tim and the girls, and your mom could bring her new hubby. No sense cutting corners. It would be cathartic for everyone, at least in my estimation. What do you guys think of that at first blush?
This newspaper thing at the Mint Hill Times is gathering a head of steam. I’ve already done a handful of stories, including one that involved the local town council. The word is this morning they are prepping the proposal for me as editor and it may be delivered as early as today. One of the things I have to wrap my head around is the editorial process; freelancers are already knocking on the door and I have to have the process down in lock-step sooner than later. There is still no clue about the hourly commitment but the assumption is it will be more rather than fewer. Alas, what it may do is squelch the idea of a Wyoming jaunt on the Harley, at least for the time being. No way I could swing that much time, two or three weeks, away from the paper. But you never know. It’s all been energizing, that’s for sure. There’s only one way to go with the paper and that’s up, up and away. Kind of nice to be on the ground floor of its growth. I’d like to make a difference.
Miss Emma and I head down south to Charleston early Wednesday. Still have some unfinished business with the redfish and speckled trout.
Miss Emma awaits her instructions while beached on a chilly Wednesday morning near Charleston. Unfortunately, the closest we got to fish was when we were on the water itself.
The culinary plan is to have a load of people over a week from this Thursday for another round of fish that’s either blackened of prepared in another fine manner complimented by a boatload of wine (to continue with the nautical theme). I was going to make it a two day venture, but there’s that newspaper thing to consider.
The living room furniture has really rounded the place out and filled the voluminous void. I even managed to sit down there a couple of mornings to read the Observer and sip on a cup of black French roast coffee. There is still some touching up to do. Reid, Tom Bohr brought over a lot of books for the barren bookshelves down there. It will make me appear to be relatively learned although you both know that’s a long, long way from reality. I started to experiment with the idea of acrylic on canvas and already the first squiggles are down. No telling what it will turn out to be other than squiggles. But I’m hell bent to complete at least 12 2’x3’ canvasses in a grouping on the cavernous north wall with the single 6’x6’ canvas above the fireplace. It really doesn’t matter how it all comes out since it’s just the idea of doing it that is half the fun.
Your boxes of coffee will go off this week, along with a few things for Emma. The lettuce is about a week away from a first harvest. Other than that, not much else is happening that can be shared in a quasi public space. Later, kids.
Love, Dad
The Weight of a Single Page 