Art is a support system for life…and enjoying a good
cigar is an art.
“…put your desk in the corner, and every time you sit
down there to write, remind yourself why it isn’t in the middle of the room.
Life isn’t a support-system for art. It’s the other way around.” Stephen King On
Writing
For a long time, writing was the center of my life. I
wrote about all I encountered and much of what I thought. High school. College.
Army. Work. Home. All were locations and channels for my thoughts placed on
paper. I carried books and paper with me everywhere. Read and write. Write and
read. These were my passions. I started to shift my paradigm when my middle
school son said, “Dad, do you have to take the books into the movie theater?”
No. I didn’t. After two divorces and five job firings in three careers over 20
years, I realized there were lots of places I didn’t need to carry books and
paper. In fact, I realized that writing wasn’t the center of my life. My family
was. It is, and it remains so.
My son and I talk more, my wife and I have been married
for more than 18 years, and I retired from teaching to spend time with family
and to write. My first book comes out in November: Spanish Cedar.
That brings up another matter. What supports life, what
fuels us, and what brings us joy? If we cannot define that, we will have a
rough time until we do, for without the clear idea of what brings us joy and
peace of mind, our personal lives and careers will be in turmoil.
I picked up a cigar for the first time in the Army. I
don’t know the occasion, but the military was an alone time for me. As noted above,
I was not building relationships, but I was writing a lot. A cigar or three
from the base exchange lasted me a weekend; weekdays were exhausting. I parked
in a café with a cup of coffee or a bottle of Lancers, dropped a quarter in the
juke box, lit a stick and wrote. Hour after hour. The drink, music, stick, pen,
and paper were my best companions for a year or two.
The cigar went out when I got married and remarried and
remarried. But one evening, twenty years later, my wife suggested a light up at
a friend’s party, and I began this quiet journey of contemplation with rolled
leaf in hand.
My poetry is about these ideas of relationships with
loved ones and strangers, with cigars and the paraphernalia of the ritual, and
with specific cigars and their homes. Think about it. Welcome conversations and
writings into your homes and businesses. Embrace the connections between your
world and experiences and those of your friends and strangers you meet along
the paths you travel. Consider the many ways of communication available to us
today, but never forget it begins with the eye contact and the handshake and
the hug.
That’s my call.