Walking Down Serenity Street in July

If you're gonna walk down Serenity Street in July, you better start early before the heat arrives.

I was on such an early walk as I passed a braid haired black guy whom I usually wave to when I pass. This time he asked me "Hey Man, who's gonna move into the house next to yours?"

I was a bit surprised by the question as I had no idea how this guy would know which house I lived in so I answered with qualification "Hell. I don't know. That's the mystery of the month. Do you know who it is?"

He responded " It's had that SOLD sign up for quite awhile, that's all I know. Thought maybe you knew a little more than that."

"Nah, I can't figure it out either.".

I began to continue my walk down the street when I decided to ask him a question.

"Hey Man, you an NBA fan?"

He stopped the lawn work he was doing and looked at me with interested and friendly brown eyes.

"Yeah, I am."

"What's going on with Zion and the bubble?", I asked.

Thus began a 20 minute discussion from social distance about basketball and our neighborhood. He'd been in our hood for two years. He'd lived in Charlotte his entire life.

We were both starting to perspire in the heat. I had steps to accomplish. Time to switch gears and get down the road.

"What do you do for a living?", I asked.

"Drive truck. How bout choo."

"Retired English teacher"

He nodded at me just as I nodded at him when he said "drive truck".

And finally he said "I'm Cedric."

It was too hot to explain Ice.

"I'm Jerry, nice to meetcha. We need to get together for some beers?"

"Damned right." said Cedrick.

We shook hands with our eyes. 

I turned and continued my walk.

Ya know how after you meet somebody for the first time and you're walking away from the conversation how ya have a tendency to playback the conversation in your mind and check the mind boat for leaks? That's what I found myself doing as I continued my walk.

I flashed back to his 'how bout choo' and to my reply "retired English teacher".

That response suddenly felt like a leak. I dont "do" retired and I don't stand in front of a class anymore although every so often I do teach somebody something I suppose. Retired English teacher is a zombie answer to the most basic question.

What I should have said is, "I'm a writer. I write for a living."

I've got a book out there called Full Filler and it's selling great. By selling great I'm not talking about huge numbers but rather about the great people who have bought the book, almost all of whom know me personally.

To them I've become a 'writer' along with everything else I had been during our acquaintance.

I've got to make that shift in my own mind. I was a teacher. Now I'm a writer. I don't write for a living, I live for writing. Writing has saved my life. It's helped me to re-invent myself at an age where re-invention becomes redemption and resucitation. Helped me to see meaning in everything that I do. Helped me to take a deeper look at everyone I know or knew. Keeps me in motion. Once again, I have goals. I have energy. I have curiosity. I have places to go and people to see. I have books to read, music to hear. I'm in the present removed from the past unless I choose to travel there and retrive a star or a scar and bring them back with me to the present to shine and bleed once again.

If I had said to Cedric "I'm a writer.", he probably would have asked what I wrote and I could tell him about Full Filler and he might have said "I'm gonna read that" and he might have and when we finally sat down for beers we might have a whole lot more than the the NBA to shine and bleed about.

Most days, I can't wait to get out of bed because I have an idea as well as an angle to approach that idea. This morning, I lay in bed longer than usual as I had neither an idea nor an angle for that idea. Then I remembered walking down Serenity a couple of days ago and having a brief conversation with a neighbor. I had an idea and an angle for that idea. I jumped out of bed. Put on my clothes.

Walked into my writing room.

Sat down.

And the rest is history.