POWELL’s

 

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I love Powell’s Book Store, well, of course I do! What’s not to love about a book store that shelves used and new books, the largest book store in the United States. (Perhaps still the largest in the world?) May the store continue to thrive.

Founded in the 70s, the store was relatively good to employees until the owner claimed betrayal when workers tried to organize. That happened years ago, and the fight was bitter but the store is unionized. Later, when Michael Powell’s daughter took over the business, the corporation fought against raising what remains among the lowest corporate tax rates in the nation. Reviewing their Mission statement and list of seven “Values” the closest they come to valuing their employees is “We’re conversation starters. We’re an eclectic team of readers with broad interests and strong feelings about the books on our shelves. And we’re committed to sharing our knowledge and enthusiasm with our customers every day.”

Sadly, employees are not always as well-informed as you would hope. Gary was in the checkout line when Ursula K. Le Guin walked through the store. Gary turned to the young checker, and gestured. “That’s Ursula Le Guin.”

“Who?”

The most famous author in Oregon.

Anyway, qualified help is often an issue. Here’s the latest from Publishers’ Weekly:

“Powell’s Books announced that they have rehired some of the employees they fired earlier in the month due to strong online orders. It was widely misreported that the store has rehired over 100 people—whereas what ceo and owner Emily Powell wrote on Facebook was that ‘over 100’ people are working at the store again. The union representing many Powell’s workers clarified to the Oregonian ‘that the bookstore has only recalled 49 union workers, and said that the rest of the people now working are managers who are doing the frontline selling, shelving and shipping jobs that used to done by union workers.’ (In mid-March the store laid off roughly 85 percent of its 400 employees.)

“Note, too, that Powell wrote they will not pay vendors ‘for the time being,’ while acknowledging ‘we can’t do that forever.’ The statement goes on, ‘Our focus is on keeping Powell’s moving, keeping our community healthy, taking care of our wonderful customers, and having as many folks working with health insurance as our sales can support.’ “

Recently we have sold several hundred dollars of books back to Powell’s. Gary is the one who manages this and each time the buyer comments on the perfect condition of the books. If I have read them, they still look brand new. My family was always meticulous in our care of books. And we still have thousands shelved in our home. (Yes, you can have too many books.) There is no “free public library” that we can access. The nearest one is useless, and I have to pay to use the one fifteen miles away. And they are all closed now anyway. If I love the book, I keep it, and if not, it’s sold. I thought very highly of My Dark Vanessa, but I passed it along and Powell’s bought it, even though the cover says it cannot be sold.

Both my husband and I have ordered books from Powell’s this month. At least three books are waiting for us to pick them up during our next run to the post office.

I’m guessing that Powell’s can afford to pay their bills.

ASSIGNMENT #2: Lost

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The sock I’m knitting.

In Brevity 22, Fall 2006, Brian Arundel’s “The Things I’ve Lost” begins

“Fleece hat and gloves: in the backseat of a Boston cab in 2002, before driving back to Maine. Round, purple sunglasses: in an Atlanta pool hall over drinks with Ashby, whose wife was determined to save their marriage by having a baby. A measurable dose of self-skepticism: at about 14, when I realized I was very good at both playing violin and baseball, while not necessarily everyone else was.”

Go read the complete essay. Now make your own list of things you’ve lost. You aren’t limited to the concrete. Arundel’s list includes kisses, love, elections, and bad habits, but also a lot of other things. Be specific about where and when, why and who else was there.

List physical objects like socks in a dryer. List people and places that you will never see again. List youthful aspirations and innocence. List expectations. When you get scared, go back to the socks and remember another. Begin by listing five things, then five more, then keep going until it’s impossible—that’s when you will find the hardest things you lost.

In your first revision, just rearrange your list and add detail. Do what Arundel does and tip the rage of your losses early with concrete and abstract ideas in the first few lines. Save the best for last.

Later this week I’ll post a major revision strategy.

NOTE: Brevity is a treasury of very short nonfiction, all less than 750 words. This early essay still appears on the Creative Nonfiction website but today it has its own website and the blog features many guest writers and publishes several times a week.

btw This is the second post based on Arundel’s Brevity essay. The first one is probably better and you can find it HERE.

BREAD

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When I retired I intended to revive a college habit of baking a braided loaf on Fridays. I used to make it entirely by hand and I once broke a wooden spoon beating the sponge. This loaf is only three strands and I always braided four, but it’s a tasty loaf.

We have all our mail through this past Thursday. I baked bread the next day. We’re still getting our early walks, but there are unfamiliar people and dogs on the beach today. Yesterday the gale force wind was desperately chilling in the morning. Today is mild. So. Walking, baking, writing, and staying safe.

Continue reading

An oldie but goodie

A plane has five passengers on board: Donald Trump, the Pope, Dr. Anthony Fauci, Hillary Clinton, and Greta Thunberg.

The plane is about to crash and there are only 4 parachutes.

Dr Fauci says “I need one! I have to develop a vaccine to cure Covid-19!”

He takes a parachute and jumps.

The Pope says “I need one! I have to guide people through the spiritual crisis wrought by Covid-19!”

He takes one and jumps.

Donald Trump says ‘‘I need one! I’m the smartest man in the USA!”

He grabs one and jumps.

Hillary Clinton says to Greta Thunberg, “You take the last parachute. My public life is over and yours has only begun.”

Greta Thunberg says …

“Don’t worry, there are two parachutes left. The smartest man in the USA jumped out of the plane with my backpack.”

BLUETONGUE

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Gary has stuck a half dozen sticks in the front hedge for birds to perch upon, which they do. This robin had, when I went to get my camera, perched on the tip of a different stick.

Almost 40 years ago, a friend was working on the bluetongue virus at Colorado State. Though this work was done in a lab with masks and gloves and all the protocol of any university lab researching a disease, albeit one only infecting sheep at the time, there was an issue. Routine screening revealed that she and the head of the study became the first human beings to test positive for the disease. She seemed oddly pleased, or at least excited by the news. Continue reading

Margaret and Helen

Margaret, they passed a $2.2 trillion dollar stimulus package. For years we’ve complained about failing schools, homelessness, hunger, affordable healthcare, clean water, clean air… Who knew that the real problem was the Cheesecake Factory not able to pay its April rent?

One trillion dollars is a big number. Very big. At first, I thought it was a hundred billion, but I was a zero off. It’s one thousand billion or 1,000,000,000,000. How does one get their head around 1,000 billion? Is one million million better? Twelve zeros. Wow.

Well, it’s a butt load of money for sure. And we got $2.2 trillion. And by we, I mean corporations.

I know. I know. A bunch of people are saying “But we’re all getting a check for $1,200.” Well not all. But a lot of us will. So yes. The American taxpayer finally got some relief. Twelve hundred for everyone is a lot of money.

Or maybe not…

Less than half of Americans pay taxes. Mainly because some people, mostly dependent children, don’t work. And then some taxpayers make more than the $99,000 (three zeros) limit. And let’s face it. If your paycheck has that many zeros, you don’t need a stimulus check. You’ll be fine.

But see, here’s the deal. Remember that $2.2 trillion dollars? With that many zeros you could just cut a $6,000 check for EVERY American no matter how old. That’s $24,000 for a family of four. Hell, you could give everyone $3,000 and still have $1.2 trillion dollars to save the airlines, cruise lines, and the Kennedy Center. That’s $12,000 to a family of four and you still have $1,200,000,000,000 leftover to give to businesses.

Suddenly that $1,200 from Mitch McConnell and company isn’t looking so good, is it? Oh, but it gets worse. Do you see that point two there at the end of $2.2 trillion? That point 2 is actually two hundred billion or $200,000,000,000. A two followed by 11 zeros. You take just that point 2 and every American could get $600 or $2,400 for a family of four.

Point Two.

But not every American needs a bailout. So how about we just go back to those tax payers who are getting $1,200. That’s about 150 million people… or 150,000,000. That’s a lot of people. I mean look at all those zeros. If you give all of those people $1,200 surely there won’t be enough left over to save the airlines.

Let’s do the math: 1,200 times 150 million… carry the one… add a zero… and look at that… it adds up to a whopping 180 billion dollars.

$180,000,000,000

That leaves roughly 2 trillion dollars to help the Cheesecake Factory.

$2.02 trillion to be exact.

I don’t know about you, but I’d say the American people just got screwed again. But there’s cheesecake at the end of this story so that’s good.

And while we’re all enjoying our cheesecake, we can enjoy Trump talking about how big this bailout is. The biggest ever. Huge. Very huge. Like nothing we’ve ever seen before. And we had to do it. We had to. We had the greatest economy in like forever, and it was tanking. The numbers were dropping. So, we had to do it.

Trump recently said we had to save the airlines and the cruise ships because “like they are probably the biggest industry in the country. Travel and leisure. I mean if you add them all up together, they are like the biggest.”

Guess what? They aren’t even in the top ten.

Now how is it that I know that, but the President of the United States doesn’t? And how is it that in a room full of reporters, no one asked the question, “Are you high, sir? Or are you just making this shit up?” The first reporter who asks that question gets a best-selling book deal and a prime-time cable news show. I’d guarantee it. Because all of us at home are certainly thinking it. Hell, we’re throwing shit at the TV when you don’t ask it. “Mr. President, do you get along with the Mayor of New York?” What the hell kind of question is that?

You want to ask questions? Here are a few questions to ask:

  • If you have to choose between a falling stock market and people dying, which do you choose, sir?
  • Being we haven’t seen your tax returns Mr. President, how much did your family’s stock portfolio just go up? I’m not talking about your companies, sir. Those were exempted out. And I’m sure you’ll whine about that soon enough.  I’m talking about your stock investments and those of your kids.  How much did those just go up?
  • Mr. President, sir, why is your face orange? (Hey, they asked Elizabeth Warren what she used on her face.)
  • Mr. President, why did you lie to the American people about the dangers of this virus?
  • With all due respect, sir, most people aren’t in the stock market and they don’t want to go back to work until it’s safe. Do you think it’s right for them to risk their lives so the Dow goes back up?
  • Sir. Sir. Over here sir. Yes. I was wondering if I could ask you about that point two trillion?
  • Mr. President, when we open the country back up on Easter Sunday, will there be cheesecake?

If a United States Republican Congressman can yell “liar” at President Obama during the State of the Union, can’t one reporter do it to Trump during a press briefing? It’s what Trump does more than anything else. And it’s what he is best at – Lying. He lies about his golf game. He lies about his taxes. He lies about test kits. He lies about ventilators. He lies about the size of his hands. The man lies about his lies. Don’t fact check him after the fact. If I can tell he’s lying from my sofa, surely you can call him out while he’s right there?

To be honest, I had to look up that airline industry thing to be certain, but I was pretty sure. Not a single reporter could figure that out? If only you had like a professional fact checker thing. Like a device you could carry around. Maybe small enough to fit in your hand. Something you could quickly type in “Largest US industry” … information, manufacturing of non-durable goods, retail trade, wholesale trade… Nope. No travel and leisure.

If only you had a device like that. And what if it was so amazing you didn’t even have to type.  You could just ask your question and it gives you the answer?  Hey Siri. What’s the largest industry in the United States? Alexa. Are people worth more than airlines? Cortana. How many zeros in a trillion? Hey Siri. Who is Cortana?

Hey. You know what is bigger than Travel and Leisure? The Arts and Entertainment industry. And they didn’t even crack the point two or even point one. The arts – bigger than the airlines- didn’t even get a billion.  Imagine that.

Trump is an idiot. And reporters are letting him get away with it. Enjoy your cheesecake. I mean it. Really.

CLOSED & CAREFUL

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On Tuesday, to his credit, the man looked embarrassed when he said he lived here and he kept his dog on leash. I’ve seen his dog before, but he’s not local. At least, he might have a house here and I have no problem with homeowners being here. They are allowed as are health care workers.

Yesterday morning we drove to Cannon Beach to pick up our mail. We had not gone anywhere other than walking the beach for over 12 days (the last time Gary picked up the mail), but we had spent a ridiculous amount of time looking at used CDs (Gary) and bidding on scraps of kimono silk (me). The USPS does not do home delivery in our area. We had ordered a couple of books (eh-hem!) and warned the post office we would not be in for a while. I carried a huge bag out to the car.

It had been 16 days since we spent time in public, and even then I did not hug my Scrabble partner. I was already taking precautions.  Continue reading

#1 REVISION

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Okay. Maybe you’ve written a fable of about 500 words, one that you might even have typed and fits single-spaced on a single page. Or maybe you did something else. Maybe you followed the rules, or maybe you didn’t. Whatever. This is not a test of your ability to follow instructions.

It’s time to try doing something “weird” to the story. Or not. Your choice.

  • Prepare to rewrite. If you typed it, save the version you have and retype it. (If it’s short, it’s actually quicker to retype than to do a find/change.) Just keep both versions.
  • If you wrote in past tense, change the verb tense throughout your story to present tense. “He ran home” becomes “He runs home.” The story is told as it’s happening. If you already chose present tense, change it to past tense. This change will alter every single sentence. Often, more than the verb has to change to make the sentence work. But verbs are actually the least of your problem.
  • You were supposed to write in third person with no I or we other than perhaps in dialogue. Take a breath. Trust me, it’s doable. Change the point of view to first person observer-narrator. Even if you ignored the rule and wrote in first person, choose another character to tell the story or make one up a new character. Remember my Bird story I published yesterday? It’s third person/past tense. I need an observer to tell my story. I might have to invent a new character, someone watching the action and telling about it in real time. The observer tells a story about your main character.
  • Add dialogue. Yeah, really.

BEFORE: In a place people think they know and not so long ago, a small bird with a black head, a grayish back, and white flight feathers picked at the ground. By nature she was a cautious person. She was busy looking for seed and finding it. She pecked at small red ants and swallowed them too. Some might have named her genus and species. She had no such names for herself. She was Bird. Everything was simple in her world. …

AFTER: All the littler People think they know this place, but they really don’t. I know it because I have always lived here and I see everything. That bird there—mindless, eating seeds on the ground, ants, heaven knows what. She takes off every time the winds shifts, everytime anything stirs and she’s off. It must be a boring life. That bird is unprepared minute by minute, but she gets by. She’s a simple creature.

“Bird!” I say, and off she flies. I want to warn her about Rat. Does she even see him?

When she comes back, I try again: “Bird! It’s just me, Tree!”

This goes on and on—I greet her, she flies away—until she finally looks before she leaps into my branches. “Oh, hi,” she says. “What did I do?” And she begins apologizing for pooping on my branch last night

  • Your story might get longer because you have to add characters talking to one another or because it starts in a different place. The plot might change. It might get funnier or sadder or find a new ending. The moral of your story might even change. All of that is fine. Let the changes happen!

When you are done messing about, have a look at both versions. Which one do you like better? What can you borrow from one to make the other better. In other words: you are on your own for draft three.

If you want to, you could post your fable (any version) as a comment. Or not. Whatever. I will post my revision at the weekend. I’m not sure I want my observer-narrator to be a tree.

NEST WEEK: [and mostly from now on] a nonfiction assignment!

 

 

The Mentalist: Reward and Routine

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Getting through a national crisis might be a little crazy like a police consultant following instinct and impression or it might be orderly like completing a knitted pair of socks. Maybe it’s a little of both. I have one sock of a pair in the works, knit top down. The leg part is done, the heel flap, and the heel is turned. I also have five book-length projects I could be working on just now, at least 350k words that need work. I could be working on revising those books, or I could be painting the hallway even though there is snow on the hills behind my house. (Because the paint is zero-VOC and I have brushes and a roller ready to go.) I could scrub dust from the baseboards or the molding of the bathroom door. I could sort my books or bake sweet rolls. I still have plenty of flour, five eggs, and sis sticks of butter. I could bake something. My husband says I should be doing our taxes. And I have the time. 

I am not going anywhere anytime soon.

Instead, I want to watch season 6 of The Mentalist. Continue reading