One Oregon Day

I wrote a thousand words on three of Studs Terkel’s books.

I wrote 500 words on recycling my high school yearbooks and lamenting the loss of industrial arts classes.

I took a walk through a homeless encampment and park.

I watched an episode of Perry Mason.

I went grocery shopping.

I mailed two of my books to a customer in Michigan.

I cashed my monthly royalty check earned from a 1/32nd ownership share of an Oklahoma oil and natural gas field. (Payment has tripled since the Russian invasion of Ukraine so I can add war profiteer to my resume.)

I bicycled past a man standing in a homeless encampment. He was holding an acoustic guitar. I stopped and bicycled back to him. I asked him if he would play a song and said I would pay him if he did. He agreed. He played an original metal song called “Euphoric Forest” that astonished me and I gave him a 20-dollar bill. This was the beginning of a half hour conversation that has entirely changed the course of my writing project about the homeless. Just when you think it’s over and know all you need to know…a homeless rocker living in a tent camper surrounded by stuff shreds a metal song on an acoustic guitar and everything is upended.

Shit, that’s what rock and roll is supposed to do! Hadn’t I declared rock dead 25 years ago?