The Rhythm of the World I’ll Soon Be Leaving
With doors slamming shut or closing quietly behind me, I find myself looking more and more into a future that isn’t mine – what to do with the house, the window business, the walls covered with paintings by artists I know, bookcases full of books, how to handle everything to do with my writing, an avalanche of manuscripts, cabinets full of files and correspondence, boxes from floor to ceiling of unsold Vagabond/Hcolom books, some going back to the 70s, and the digital maze on my computer.
But more important than all that is the kind of send-off I’ll get. Cremation, of course, my ashes mixed with those of my dogs Sundance and Loki and cast into the wind from on top of Manashtash Ridge, maybe a locket or two of ash for anyone who wants one, and then what?
It occurred to me today that a hall should be rented with a buffet and a live band made up of musicians who are still alive from the local bands that were rocking out when I arrived in Ellensburg 44 years ago — Greasewood City Ramblers, Lucky Pierre, the Nash Band, Appaloosa.
I was driving along getting excited about the idea, my fingers drumming on the steering wheel to that long-ago rhythm, I could see it, see these gnarly old warriors up on stage and everyone dancing, I could see myself dancing, the way I used to dance, like there was no tomorrow, which soon now will be the case.
