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DATELINE: 10 APRIL, 2001

Transmitted by Rod Amis, USA

The World's Magazine: g21.net

Event # 261.1: NEVER GIVE AN INCH

AMERICAN DREAMS
DAY ONE
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RDR Logo. The Verdict - I took six days off, rather than three for a number of reasons. I needed the rest. I needed to get away from not only the magazine, but the other pressures of my pressure-cooker life. Frankly, I was losing it, Kids. Big Time.

Each of my days was not only filled with my own suffering, but -- it had begun to seem -- the suffering and complaints of the whole world. Misery everywhere I turned. And it was as unrelenting as our publication schedule. Nothing but thorns. And the thing is, one guy already did the crown of thorns routine. It didn't need repeating. I needed some roses in my so-called life and couldn't find a one.

So my brain and body went into STOP mode. Full stop. I retreated to Hershey, Pennsylvania, that town built on chocolate. A friend and his family gave me the run of their house and waited for me to become "whole" again. I had a lot of time to think. I ate more. I only went as close to a computer as seeing my friend, Darryl's, on the tour of his house.

The "little buggy voice," as Sean Altman sings, in my head was saying bad things about me. I was a failure. I'd never get out of Baltimore. I was a fool to keep working on the G21. (I'm sure your own voice takes you through the same drill.)

I learned about one vision of the ideal American city while in Hershey. The dream of Milton S. Hershey, the chocolate king. I found it interesting. The city of Hershey has turned out about exactly as he would have liked it, I believe. That the Hershey Trust has sheltered vast tracts of open land from development is an achievement in and of itself in our days of suburban sprawl, but even greater is the legacy of the Hershey School. (Follow the link and get an idea of what I'm alluding to.) I learned most of this from my friend, Darryl, who I was visiting.

It's no secret that one of the last things on my mind, usually, is taking care of me. That had reached a crisis point. So, I needed to analyse why and how to rectify things.

One thing that came out of my reflections (and on the schedule I had alluded to in "My Glass House") was that the experiment with doing this effort *daily* was not in my best interests or the magazine's.
  • After all, our model is magazine, not newspaper.
  • Secondly, daily is a back-breaking schedule for one person to perform.
  • Thirdly, the numbers were showing that going daily did nothing to increase our overall readership.
Our numbers have remained relatively stable -- with a couple of exceptions -- for approximately five months now and the daily experiment had gone on for two months.

If the motive force, the main engine, of the G21 is Yours Unruly, I have to take time to recharge my own generator. The best way of doing that is to have a life, rather than a so-called life. I need more roses. I need time to reflect, to pamper the old man, maybe even to give him some time for romantic love. I have found lots of filial love here, but that is not enough.

An animated butterfly image. Darryl gave me a copy of the Canadian publication the Sun, featuring an interview with author Michael Prechtel who lived in Peru for a time and studied shamanism. The main thrust of the interview was an exploration of how we can better reconnect with the Earth through honoring our ancestor's gift of life to us. Intriguing thinking, often presented in quite poetic imagery. We discussed it at some length, both in direct reference and in relation to other issues that cropped up over my days in Hershey. Even in relation to race and identity, a topic we were bound to discuss as Black men and writers. (A recent review by Darryl appeared in the Washington Post "Book" section this past weekend.)

The haunting aspect of Prechtel's approach, which is ascribed to Mayan thinking, is that of the debt we owe to a plane of existence established by our progenitors. It reminded me of animist thinking I'm familiar with from Africa and gave me pause. I'm still grappling with that concept as it relates to ancient practices around household gods in other cultures and the notion of having shrines to our ancestors.
But that's another topic in my spiritual search for another time...

On my immediate agenda, which is pressing, our other matters. Leaving this solitary existence in Baltimore in Job One. Seeing my mother is next on the list. I can't wait until "things are better." I mean to see her as soon as possible, God willing.

Then the next adventure... I don't know where or what. I'd like to believe I'll keep writing, but that's not a priority if I can continue to write here at the G at least. California? Europe? N'Orleans? Consider me clueless.

Someplace where I can have trees, some body of water (ocean, river,) and nice digs. That's about it. But you'll know when I know.


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