What the Merchant Marine Means to Me

Willow had to go to the vet this week for her shots and annual checkup.  We managed to trick her and get her into the carrier. That was in itself a real almost fiasco. She would spread her legs leg and turn  her head around, so she wouldn’t fit.  Actually, she was very well behaved with the vet and assistant.  Coming home, she seemed to know exactly what was happening.  the only time she complained was when we tried to stop to buy fish.  There were too many customers in line already, so Woody drove us home and went back later. 

We thought she would hide in her condo for at least a day, the way she used to, but this time in half an hour, Willow was all over the house.  She expressed her annoyance with me and wouldn’t let me pet her until we went to bed. When we loaded her into the carrier and started to carry her out, Schwartzie got very upset and was crying. I think he remembered when we did that to Mingus, Mingus never came home.  He was dead when we brought him back and woody buried him.  It was fortunate for us that he died during a thaw.  He was afraid Willow would disappear too. He was very glad to see her when we brought her back.  she was in a bad mood and didn’t want to lie with him, but he followed her around anyhow.

This Sunday I have the panel with Terry Bisson.  This Saturday and then Sunday when I’m on, City Lights in San Francisco and PM Press are sponsoring two days of science fiction writers [I’ve written three such novels] discussing fiction with a radical slant. 

This morning for some reason, I remembered for the first time in decades that in high school I entered a contest, WHAT THE MERCHANT MARINE MEANS TO ME and won two years in a row. The prize was something like $25, but at that time in my life, that helped.  I remember going down to the Old Mariners Church near the Detroit River to read my winning essays to an audience of grizzled seamen.  Now, my favorite Uncle Danny had been in the Merchant Marine as had a cousin.  I was better at bullshit in high school than I am now.  I was desperate to win anything.

Snow is falling as I write this, a wet snow that’s clinging to everything.  I have to start getting prepped for the panel on Sunday.  No pay.  Everybody expects writers to do everything for nothing these days, as if we don’t have to make a living. My session will be @ 2pm EST.  By the way, I really look forward to Daylight Savings time when the afternoons are longer.  I wish we had it all year long.  I’ll lose some sleep but then as the weather warms a bit, I can work outside after I do my writing and house work.

Monday holidays throw everything off for me.  It’s never a holiday at all. I still have to do the laundry and do some cleaning and tidying.  then instead of working with Dale and clearing the decks to write on Tuesday, half the work hangs over to block Tuesday from any creative work.