My latest book, The Bonnie and Clyde Files: How Two Senior Dogs Saved a Middle Aged Man is out. I invite you to support me and an independent Oregon publisher by purchasing direct from my web site, nestuccaspitpress.com
Below is an excerpt:
I wore the Chuck Taylors into the river and Bonnie and Clyde followed me into the water. Wet canvas molded around my ankles. The cold felt tight against my skin. I’d forgotten the feeling. It made me want to camp with a canvas tent again. More canvas in my life!
It was hot and getting hotter. The river barely moved. In fact, nothing seemed to move except a middle-aged man and two senior dogs. I stopped in the middle of the channel and my mind sauntered: Movement. Movement. Movement. I craved movement in my time of stasis.
Inertia had paralyzed me. It had also offered unforeseen liberation. By not being able to move forward, I had taken limitless journeys into my heart and mind and the hearts and minds of others. I’d taken journeys I never would have otherwise taken, let alone conceived of taking. Journeys such as to this river with these great dogs. Such as establishing a new indomitable friendship with my sister. Such as spending time with my parents and hearing their stories. Such as the rediscovery of classic novels and an understanding of why they endure as classics. Such as practicing silence and disinterest in the face of noise and outlandish agendas. Such as experiencing the tangible health benefits of purple cabbage and turmeric. Such as learning how to surface from the shallows of my former life. Such as prospecting for a new voice for my writing and a new form of service to my community.
I heard some splashing and looked around. Bonnie had flopped down in the middle of the river and stared straight at me. Clyde had retired to the bank and was snoozing in the tall grass. I woke up.
We didn’t make it across. Perhaps next time we would.