Me and Dr. King #MLKJr

Last night I was feeling inadequate, unable to work on the book I’ve been writing. Dissatisfied with everything, I decided to get into bed where I thought: Listen, God, I  don’t know if you’re there. The little bit of evidence I have would never hold up in a court of law down here. But if you are, could you send me a sign? Just a little one. It doesn’t have to be a bolt of lightning. You don’t have to move a mountain. 

In the morning I got up and did what I’ve been doing every morning since summer began. I went for a walk. On my way to the track I turned on my car radio, which I always keep tuned to NPR, and I heard a voice, the voice of a ghost from the past – the very distinct and mighty voice of Martin Luther King Jr, and he was saying these words: “You must have a blueprint…(you must have) a deep belief in your own dignity, your own worth, and your own somebodiness…. If you can’t be a highway, just be a trail. If you can’t be a sun, be a star…Be the best of whatever you are.”

 I listened to Dr. King and then I went home and sat in front of my computer and started to write. Thank you God I said when I was finished. And Thank you Martin, I added. Oh, and Martin, it doesn’t surprise me one bit that the voice of God sounds a lot like yours.

My memoir, Dear Elvis, is available at amzn.to/2uPSFtE

Those Lazy, Crazy Days of Winter

Today is one of those lazy, crazy days in the Philadelphia area when having more than a foot of snow lying on the ground outside managed to zap away any trace of motivation I may otherwise have had.  Here it is Wednesday already and thanks to the snow and to the memory of Martin Luther King Jr, I have worked only four hours so far this week.   But the hours I did work were spent on the roads driving a school bus and, for the first time in my life, they made me feel like a superhero. 

It’s funny how beautiful the snow looked as I watched it late yesterday afternoon through the big picture window in my daughter’s living room.  Not so lovely watching it from behind the windshield of a school bus.  By the time I picked up my students for their 11:00 a.m. early dismissal, there were several inches of snow on the ground - and several more fell during the two hours it took to get them to their homes in Cheltenham, a neighborhood just outside of Philadelphia, a drive that normally takes only twenty minutes.

But last night after dinner, I got into bed to watch a movie – Silver Linings Playbook – more scenes from Philadelphia's streets - Philly is the city I grew up in.   The movie was so light and sweet that by the time I fell asleep all the weight (not to mention the awesome responsibility) of driving children through snow,  lifted and I felt as free as a single snowflake drifting through the sky, and as graceful and relaxed as Bradley and Jennifer looked floating across the dance floor.  

But tomorrow is another day and tomorrow it's back to driving over icy roads and snow-covered side streets.  But then, maybe even nimbostratus have silver linings. I'll just have to wait and see.

My memoir, Dear Elvis, is available at amzn.to/2uPSFtE