“Today is Monday, October 31, 2011, a very momentous day for me and hopefully for you as well. Let me introduce myself to you, Shane. I am your father’s father, which of course makes me your grandfather. My name is Larry Feinstein. Right now, I am wedged into my seat on an airplane traveling from San Francisco to Oahu, Hawaii. I will get back to the plane ride business in just a moment.” Halloween In Portland-Diary of a Mind.
Ten years ago, this weekend, I was flying home from Portland, OR. Months before, I had been at the wedding of a friend’s daughter, feeling totally out of place, disappeared into the shadows of mindless distractions. I guess I was stupid back then and still vulnerable to teen dreams, in spite of being long passed that time in my life. The boy in the man is always within inches of surfacing into the consciousness of a terminally stupid, forever hormonal idiot.
At a distance, under the lighting of a super large tent, a blonde haired lady caught my attention. in spite of being super glued to my chair, I managed to rip myself free and walk over to this apparition. She was just a friend of the bride, minding her own business, but leave it to the male moron to make something out of absolutely nothing. I leaped completely out of character and asked if she would dance, something I am beyond awful at. Well, I survived without crushing any toes and asked for her email address, because she was visiting from Portland, OR.
After several months of emailing, I had negotiated a weekend in Portland, the details of which would waste the valuable word count that constrains all social media missives. There were two things on my mind when I made the trip. One was to see if my imagination had any connection to reality and it actually did not. We were not even remotely compatible. Second, I had been wrestling for months with the idea of writing something, anything to my grandson and what the hell it would sound like.
It’s funny, I really don’t know where this idea of writing came from. I was not sitting around and thinking I had some really important shit to share with people, not even close. For years, everything going on was between my ears, residing within. I had never thought, then or now, that I had some important messages to share with anyone.
I think going to Portland, racing some kind of dream, was doomed to fail and somewhere within, I knew that. The disappointment of possibility turned me inside myself. At the time, I was in some kind of internal wrestling match and I had no interest in tapping out. I wanted to get off the canvass, grab the mic and just talk about where I was at. Enough conversations had taken place for the two of us to realize there was nothing to hold on to. It was raining on that Sunday morning and disappearing into the darkness of a movie theatre seemed like a heavenly treat for both of us.
We decided to see a movie called Rum Diaries, starring Johnny Depp and written by Hunter S. Thompson. The hero was this broken down journalist, drummed out of the NY Times and exiled to a dying, English newspaper in 60’s Puerto Rico, in the midst of a resurgence in their local pride. Throughout the film, the Depp character kept referring to “finding his voice”. I travelled all that way, following a busted dream and found what I had been looking for, after coming up empty each time, until that moment in the theatre. I found my voice right then and the funny thing is, it’s the one I always had and that’s how I’d write.
Here I am, ten years later and so grateful for that time in my life. I wanted to share my life with my grandson and I had no idea how to do that. It’s funny how we tend to complicate our lives and the secret is in the simplicity. My life changed forever on that night, because I became a writer, not a good one, not a bad one, just a sincere one. On that night, I decided I was going to tell my stories, because it seemed crazy to keep them secret, hundreds of secrets that would be buried with me, my muted voice silenced by not believing in their importance to me.
What I have discovered since then is that we all have our stories. Honestly, I never thought my life was all that interesting when I began this creative adventure of mine. I guess I have two motivating factors since that time. One, I wanted to share my life with my grandson and hopefully instill within him, the desire to start the never ending journey of self discovery. Two, I wanted my stories to touch others, making all of you feel like your lives are both interesting and worth sharing.
Happy Halloween.
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