Since the news is in a holding pattern, barring some catastrophe I’ll be absent for the next two weeks. I’m a tad bit tired after 35 events in 25 days. Evidently “Orange Man Bad” has been impeached because he’s a threat to the Republic, but the congress-critters don’t think he’s enough of a threat to interrupt their splendid three-week vacation. Draw your own conclusions about the urgency/validity of the issue based on that nugget.
A parting thought: Nobody elected you the Sheriff of the left lane. Move over.
Gosh, that felt good to say. Lots of miles this December, many of them impeded by lunkheads doing the limit in the left lane.
***UPDATE**** To my fellow authors: I love you, and want to help you. Alas, I am overwhelmed with work right now, and am forcing myself to go on a six month hiatus of reviewing manuscripts and writing endorsements and reviews.
I know how much help I’ve gotten over the years with this, and I will resume in July. But for right now, I’m buried alive. I will only be able to answer quick questions on procedural issues for those who already use me for a source.
Sorry if that screws up anyone’s plans, but for the moment it’s a survival issue!
I’d like to leave you with some thoughts for Christmas. I’ve had a magnificent season, which ended Monday night with the Minnesota Vikings. They have been most kind to me this year, and it was a great way to finish the year.
After 19 years as Santa, some things have become even more obvious to me than when I started:
You get love in direct proportion to the amount you give. A sour puss and miserable attitude bring it right back. But being kind, and welcoming people into your life is the most rewarding thing one can imagine.
Prayer fixes a lot of things. If you doubt this, send me a note. I’d be glad to cite some miracles for you to help lessen your doubt. In addition, praying for other people makes you feel better. That time with God is priceless.
Racism is a complete waste of time. There is beauty in everyone, and all you have to do is hang out with children as Santa to fully recognize that fact. It’s what they’re taught, and how they are treated, that either nourishes a good soul or brings forth the ugliness we see in adults. It doesn’t take much to sour a human for life, but it takes just a bit of love to nip that in the bud.
Our brothers and sisters who are gay are just that: our brothers and sisters. You may not endorse the lifestyle, but being kind and loving them costs you nothing and improves and enriches your life. Keep that in mind. Some of the best interactions I’ve had this season were with people very different than me. And I thank them for the kindness and love that they showed for me.
People of different faiths are not your enemy. That one is simple. It takes some action to earn that distrust. Most people – the vast majority – are trying to get by and live a decent life. Treat them like your coreligionists until they’ve proven otherwise. I’ve chatted with more people about their lives in Arabic this past year than ever before. Exactly zero had a problem with Santa being a Christian. And, I was warmed by their smiles.
Spend some time with people who could be your parents. That gets harder each year as you age, the target group shrinks. But my visits to memory care units and senior facilities have been very rewarding. I’ve met some real characters and some mighty fine people who’ve shared their memories with me. If you don’t engage and talk to them, a rich part of life is lost with their passing.
Do something randomly nice this week. And every week. This morning somebody bought my breakfast at Mickey’s because I posed for a picture with them. That simple act of generosity touched me deeply. I love posing for photos with people, and I got a great and unexpected blessing. I try to return those blessings regularly. It makes me happy.
Sit down and talk to your pet. Fish might be an exception, but cats and dogs love that attention. They give you love in gigantic quantities, and all they want is your attention. Chewy loves it when I talk to him. He might be a dog, but he’s an individual who craves that contact. My life is a lot more hirsute with him around, but that’s a small price to pay for even one lick on the nose – mine, not his.
Celebrate your family. Be kind around the table tomorrow. Don’t bicker over stupid things – politics included. Remember the love, choke down the angry words, cut them another slice of pie and keep in mind that they won’t always be there. View every family gathering as your last and cherish them.
That’s all the wisdom I have for now. Merry Christmas.
I promise to write something good for you all to gnaw on next week. I have a few things cooking in the meantime, and I apologize for the brevity of this post – and its late appearance in the week. But, better writers than I did stories on me this week, and I present them to make up for my sloth.
The second piece was a lovely interview with Jana Shortal at KARE11. This is so nice because there were no deceptions – just a chat. And I have great admiration for her sense of humor and kindness. It is one of the most beautiful pieces I’ve ever been featured in. Here’s the link.
Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have lunch with the good men of the Union Gospel Mission shortly and I’ve got to put on my good clothes. I’m still out and about this weekend at both Midtown Global Market and Keg and Case Market – please stop by and see me. If that fails, I’ll be the Purple Santa at the Minnesota Vikings game on Monday night. Stop by for a pre-game photo on the plaza. Times are up in the air, but I’ll be out there for at least an hour around 6 pm taking pictures with fans.
And, since I know how this will go, I won’t be posting until Christmas Day. Have a blessed and Merry Christmas!
So, it’s crazy time – 34 Santa events in 25 days. I’m starting to frazzle.
And, we launched a big promo for the new audio book EMERGENCY DEEP and the links that Amazon gave me didn’t work. OOOOPS, Amazon? They delayed the publication by 8 days, missing Black Friday and Cyber Monday, and now this debacle. It’s fixed, but lots of egg on our faces giving out promo codes that didn’t work. Not our fault, but the listeners don’t know that – which reminds me: the first five readers to ask for a free download in the comments will get one that works. The first one – let’s see who that is – will get a free audio book download for everything I’ve ever recorded on Audible. That’s a lot of hours of seeing what your tolerance level is!
I’m throwing out a line that occurred to me as I witnessed a group of coworkers surrounding an authority figure a while ago: “He’s going to have to jump into the Mississippi to wash off all the stupid that’s going to stick to his skin after that bunch is through.” Should tell you my mindset today.
Check out the schedule for my Santa appearances at www.santajoe.com if you’d like to get the picture of the year with your favorite author/Santa/lunatic.
[Authors note: This was written months ago, and my wife asked me not to publish it at the time. Not exactly smart to taunt the Devil, and she thought this fell into that category. She was probably right. Read on to the end for an update.]
This summer started off as a drag. I’d come out of the spring with my writing blistering along, my physical condition improving all the time, and life going pretty well.
Then June hit, and along with the death of Stormy, I spent a day in the hospital, and a funk set in that curtailed the writing. I mourned my dog and decided to “man up” and get back to work.
That came to a crashing halt when I tore a muscle in my calf. Not only was I not walking any great distances, but I was having a hard time just hoofing it to the bus a few blocks away.
This past two week period has officially marked the end of that phase. I have said it is to be, and so it shall be.
I’ve written consistently on all three books I’m working on, started a collection of short stories for a really neat project we’ll talk about down the road, and begun recording the next Michael DiMercurio novel.
All of those are good things. All of them positive. All of them nifty. But two other things happened this last weekend that really made things better.
This weekend we resumed the hunt for a new rescue dog. We had put that on hold since our back yard was a disaster zone with construction going on next door. We had no back fence, and for a few weeks we had a nine-foot pit adjacent to our southern border. Much like President Trump, we are in favor of “building the wall” along that southern border. But until the ground was filled in, and the house framed up, there was no way that was going to happen. With no fence, there could be no dog.
Today the roof trusses are being delivered (allegedly) and should be in place by Friday. That means they can clean up the piles of plywood in the yard, level out the dirt piles, and restore our fence.
With a fence there must be a dog. Saturday and Sunday we visited rescue dogs again, knowing we were almost there. The guy we met on Saturday was a 1.5 year old Australian Shepherd named Duke. What a kid. He was a ball of tail-wagging, face-licking, let’s-go-for-a-walk joy. He had exactly zero inhibitions about throwing himself directly into a loving relationship with me. He reminded me of one friend in particular who regularly takes to Facebook to proclaim the previous night’s date “THE ONE” to the derision of all of us who haunt that timeline. We’ve seen “THE ONE” so many times before that we just can’t take it seriously.
Duke, however, is one of those dogs who will spend about a week in rescue foster before someone has their heart melt in response and he will be delivered to a new forever home.
Sunday we revisited Chewy. I am sure that it’s short for Chewbacca, but my wife isn’t quite as sure. Chewy is a few years older than Duke, and he’s painfully shy. This struck a note for us, because Stormy was not just shy, but fearful in her time with us. I loved Stormy with my entire heart, and knew that she loved me as well. But it’s hard to have that unrequited love as an issue, and I needed to know that Chewy wouldn’t be another dog who couldn’t even look at me for the first three years.
We arrived to play with him at the foster home, and he gallivanted around with their other dogs. He would come for treats, just like the last time, and tolerated being petted. But he kept retreating and watching from the stairs to the deck. He wasn’t fearful, but cautious.
We took him for a walk and stopped under a tree and just petted him in the shade. I needed to know where he’d be if he came home with us, so we gently rolled him on his side and touched his belly, his paws, tail, face, and talked to him as we made sure he wasn’t going to panic.
We had no need to fear. After a few minutes he quit shaking (it was minor) and relaxed. Then he actually began to enjoy the pets. Finally, he started to doze off – that crash that comes after the Adrenaline has been pumping. You see, I think he was upset that when these two people put him on the leash and walked away from his most recent home, he was going to have to give up a family and dogs that clearly loved him.
We returned him to the fosters and told them we’d love to adopt him, but we had to wait another two weeks for a fence. Not a problem. While we were talking, he met the final benchmark: he wandered over to where I was sitting and asked to be petted without my calling him, or offering snacks. He was just glad to have me as a part of his life.
That’s a big deal. I will always love all of the dogs I’ve shared my life with. They have given me so much more than anything I’ve done for them that the math is not even possible. Stormy taught me about kindness, patience, and persistence. She was damaged when she came to our home, and on the day she died she was whole again.
It is our hope that Chewy will bond with us even more quickly, and that his healing is rapid. But we’ve got the experience and training in how to deal with a shy dog: Stormy takes the credit for that!
Welcome to our lives Chewy. We will have your dishes and kennel ready when you arrive. And a brand new fence to keep you safe in your new home.
The other good thing? I walked to work today, and am writing this on my laptop. Turns out my laptop case fits nicely in my gigantic backpack. Three miles, good time, and no pain in my leg.
Lots of healing going on in my life. And it’s a joy to share it with you. I hope, and pray, that if you are reading this and in need of healing, that you feel my encouragement across the miles. I know that I truly appreciate all the encouragement the readers have sent me over the past two months.
Now, get ready, because here is the first in a long string of pictures of Chewy if all goes well. Ain’t he adorable?
Chewy
Be well, and be healed.
[UPDATE. So, it turns out that the day after this was written I tore the muscle again. Once that had healed, I got sick. And stayed sick for a month. During that month the fence made no progress, and I started visiting specialists to get well. I did, but it wasn’t fun.
I’ve not resumed walking. It’s been five months since I was on the upturn and have fallen into sloth in the physical realm. I completed the audio book, wrote more than a bit on other projects, and just struggled to get along.
Chewy is doing better all the time. He’s a “forager” when he’s bored. That means any bag he meets must be opened. He’s chewed off the closures on my backpacks, and rooted around in Kip’s knitting bags. Not overly destructive, but annoying. He takes a perverse pleasure in chewing the finger tips off of my gloves and mittens. I’ve bought a lot of new gloves and mittens in the last month.
Christmas is here, and now the Santa madness has begun. I’m healthy now, and will be resuming workouts. Chewy is a blessing, and our home is warm on cold nights. And the fence, well…. It’s up, but not well done. The builder and I agreed that could wait until spring. Good enough for the moment. The ground is frozen now so it’s gotta wait.
