Christmastime Ruminations

I took down all the Christmas decorations before the New Year. I’ll replant the two Doug firs I rescued from a clearcut that served as my indoor and outdoor Christmas trees in the back yard. I wonder how tall they will be when I leave this house.

My first Christmas in Coos Bay. Very uneventful personally for me, but I did better connect to my new city and some of the people and organizations trying to do important work. I don’t know if I have what it takes to make any significant impact here. Maybe those days are.

Elmer and I continue our beach adventures and I’ve recently met some interesting locals and tourists for brief conversation and interactions with their dogs. One in particular stands out: an alfalfa farmer from Christmas Valley who is residing in the area for a month during the holiday season to care for his elderly mother. He said it was absolutely essential for him to walk on the beach with his German shepherd every morning to get his head and heart straight to deliver that care. I told him I knew something about that.

I’ve also seen my fair share of solo tourists, all women, who are at the beach, meandering, staring at the ocean, obviously contemplating, and probably experiencing some type of crisis. I’ve seen this same sort of thing ever since I moved to the Oregon Coast in 1997. It’s usually a woman in her 40s or 50s. I suppose they have traveled to the ocean for some answers, or perhaps to generate some questions to ask. On several occasions I’ve had the opportunity to talk with them. It’s always the same story: the city sucks, my career is bullshit, I’ve got to change.

I have released a new novella called Teacher of the Year. It’s an e-book available on Amazon. The first 60,000-word version of this book was written in 2011-12 in the throes of an agonizing breakup with my then photographer girlfriend who was lying to me for months.

A month ago, I reread it and cut it down to 17 thousand words and vastly improved the story on different levels. I may bring out a print version later. It was fascinating to read the old version and see how I’ve improved as a writer of fiction.

I’ve been reading a 1962 biography of William Randolph Hearst. The parallels between him and Donald Trump are incredible. They are almost the same person. If Hearst had had television like Trump did, he would have become President. All he had were newspapers (penny press) and even though in many ways they were arguably as bad as the internet has become today, they still weren’t the visual medium.

What will happen to me in Coos Bay in 2026? My country? I’ve been thinking about those questions a lot in recent months.