Tribute to the Old Man

Albert Johnsen loved books and fishing and books about fishing and the sea and flying.

His favorite drink? Coffee. Black. Any time of day.

His signature dish: meatloaf.

Also waffles, served with strawberries and whipped cream.

He loved calliope music, pipe organs, big bands, folk, country, rock'n'roll ...

He played the sousaphone in high school.

He learned to fly at an early age, and once had to crash land in an orchard outside Hood River, where he was born and raised. He was not a religious man, but often told of the presence he felt in the cockpit with him, letting him know everything was going to be alright.

He climbed mountains and weathered storms.

He sat in a wooden tower and watched for forest fires, sold shoes in the family's store, fought fires as a volunteer, was elected port commissioner, drove truck, routed freight, and sold real estate.

He married his college sweetheart, a bathing beauty from Baker, and they had four daughters. He loved them all. (I married one of them and love her to pieces.)

Like his father, he was always on time and expected you to be on time, too.

He always wanted to write but never got far. Instead, he painted, carved, sculpted, and drew faces.

He liked Buster Keaton and Red Skelton and was a bit of a clown himself.

If you asked him an obvious question you got a smart-aleck answer and a goofy look.

His daughters learned not to pull his finger.

All his life he loved vanilla ice cream, and that was his last meal, fed to him in his hospital bed by his oldest daughter. He was 84, often confused but still funny and charming.

I think of him whenever a plane flies overhead.

It's easy to picture him soaring over Mount Hood and Lost Lake—and here, now—along with the mysterious presence that keeps him safe.

Not a Review

"It's a very intriguing and well-crafted novel."

That's not a review, but a note from my publisher, referring to the manuscript I sent to him some time ago.

Nice.

Here's the best part, though: "We look forward to publishing it."

I'm pleased to report that The Possibility of Snow will be part of Luminis Books' Spring 2015 list.

While that's still a long way off, advance review copies will need to go out in less than a year.

Meanwhile, I'll try to remain calm and carry on as if nothing extraordinarily cool is happening.

Desire Lines

This album is magical. 

It reminds me of how I felt when my heart was new. 

Every track is a gem.

"Troublemaker" and "Do It Again" are especially infectious. 

Check it out. You won't be sorry.

God Is Not Great

I just finished reading Christopher Hitchens' exhaustive catalog of the violence and oppression perpetrated by the great religions from antiquity to the present day, God Is Not Great.

The book's subtitle, How Religion Poisons Everything, would have been a more fitting title.

Hitchens was a well-read atheist, a free-thinker and a good man, I think. In his book, he made the case that morality does not depend on religion—just look at how religion itself has endorsed all manner of evil from genocide to slavery.

Too true.

If only Hitchens were still alive. I would have loved to see him give the same treatment to politics, which is becoming more and more like a religion and is proving to be just a divisive with so many all-or-nothing, no-compromise players in the game. (He was certainly aware of how cynical politicians have always known how to use religion—and the religious—to their advantage.)

Hitchens' book rightly promotes free inquiry and the scientific method. To him, the explanations offered by science were far more satisfying than those offered by religion. To me, science is great with the what and how of life but not so good with its ultimate meaning.

But there, I must admit, the explanations of the great religions aren't very satisfying either.

Unfinished Books

Among the books I've tried to read but couldn't finish ...

• For Whom the Bell Tolls
• Catch-22
• On the Road
• Ulysses

Of course there are many others, but these are supposed to be classics.

What's on your list?

To Rome

Cappuccino to sit or stand
Gloves to fit any hand
The view from the roof
The sound of hooves
Hold me now and don’t let go

Vestments for sale in the window
Lingerie for a merry widow
In the streets children play
Past and present on display
We’ll walk together in the afterglow

A sleek black Maserati
The sweet tenor of Pavarotti
A procession of the broken-hearted
A grave for the dear departed
Everything is done for show

The dry bones of an ancient saint
The tears of a woman feeling faint
A walk to Trevi fountain
Enough desire to move a mountain
Now’s the time to make it so

A bottle of fine Chianti
That song by Harry Belafonte
Bells in towers chime
But we still have time
Let’s forget everything we know in Albergo del Senato

Unchained Melody

Late last night I entered an empty church hidden on a hill above the Colosseum. I thought it was empty but then I heard voices and I followed them to a confessional.

The soft voice was yours and the listening ears were mine.

I heard your confession.

I knew what you needed and it wasn’t forgiveness.

The next thing I knew I was giving communion: "This is my heart, breaking for you …"

Just as suddenly I was alone in the dark, candles flickering, incense burning. Right in front of me were the chains that once held St. Peter. They were black and holy in an unholy way and I hated them. I picked them up and threw them, spinning, into the air.

They were still spinning as I ran through the door and into the moonlight. I can’t say whether they ever hit the marble floor. I was already running down the steps and down the street. For all I knew the chains continued to spin through the centuries and were still spinning now.

I ran through the tunnel where a saxophone player blew a soulful tune. Yes, yes, yesssss ... I stopped long enough to untie the rope around my waist and drop it into his hat. Then I ran back and added every coin I had.

“Play well for me,” I said and hurried on.

I caught up with you at the bottom of the hill. You turned and smiled, or was that the sun coming up?