Month: May 2019

Happy Belated Birthday Bob (Dylan)

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Bob Dylan’s childhood home in Duluth.

Last Friday was Bob Dylan’s birthday. My hometown of Duluth does it up right by holding an annual Dylan Fest — a week of events that features song, poetry, lectures, tours, and birthday cake.

This year, we attended the launch of a new book of poetry inspired by Dylan. “Visiting Bob” contains 100 poems by U.S. and international poets. A half dozen of the poets read their works and other poets’ works. Some of the poems were beyond me but others I understood. One that stuck was by local poet, Connie Wanek. Its theme was Dylan sightings in Duluth — are they false? Are they true? It ends on a hopeful note that perhaps someday the poet really will see him back in this town where he was born.

We also attended a lecture by one of the poets from Texas, David Gaines. Because he wrote a book about Dylan, he attracted media interest when Dylan won the Nobel Prize. Gaines described his experience being interviewed by Swedish public television and other major media outlets. He also got to travel to Stockholm to attend the airing of a Swedish public television story in conjunction with the prize ceremony.

On our way home from the lecture, we decided to stop by Bob Dylan’s home on the hillside, since it was on our route and we’d never seen it. A fan owns it and has spiffed up the duplex. Dylan lived in the right-hand side. A plaque on the front of the home proclaims its significance.

It’s hard to believe that I’ve lived here over five decades and never looked it up before. ‘Bout time, I guess.

When I posted the house photo on Facebook, one of my friends said they had a chance to rent the place in the mid-1970s, but turned it down. They didn’t know the home’s significance, however. When they found out afterward, they deeply regretted their decision because they were fans.

Another friend said she walked by the place thousands of times but it took years before she learned who had lived there.

These are typical instances of  “Duluth” to me. It’s a big small town. It’s large enough to get lost in if you want, and to never see parts of it. But it’s small enough that everyone has friends in common through one means or another, whether they went to school with them, or worked with them, etc.

Even after all this time, this town still has hidden gems to discover for those who take the time to look.

My First Book of Pig People

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20190429_121407I was rummaging through old files the other day and found the first book I ever wrote: “The First Book of Pig People.” As the name suggests, it led to sequels: “The Adventures of Janet and Harry,” “The Adventures of Sally and Fred,” and “Jace.”

I wrote and fully illustrated the books one summer when I was age eight or ten, which was in the early 1970s — as you can see from the platform shoes and clothing styles in the cover photo. I worked on them with my girlfriend Karen, who wrote her own books. We’d bring our stories to each other’s houses and sit at the kitchen table, scribbling away with our pencils. I also remember writing while lying in the grass in Karen’s back yard.

As you can see from the cover photo, the characters are human with pig noses. Why the mix of human and pig? Perhaps it had something to do with my connection to animals. It might also do with a poster one of my brothers had up in his room. As I can recall, it featured a humanoid pig creature littering, and it contained an anti-littering slogan. But, as with most story ideas, who really knows what strange subconscious depths it came from?

Upon finding these early efforts again, I was impressed that I knew I would have sequels from the beginning. Not bad planning for a youngster.

The main characters in the series are two women and four men, because each woman ended up having two boyfriends, mainly due to the lameness of their initial boyfriends. Four pets were also involved: a parrot, a cat, a dog, and a walrus-bird hybrid I dubbed a “walbirus.” With that particular pet, I decided to combine two of the most improbable animals I could. The walbirus also sports a pig nose, it has the head of a walrus, a small walrus body, and wings. Yes, it can fly! Like the humans, the pets also sport pig noses, and the spots on the dog’s coat each contain two piggy nostril markings within them.

The pets drive the story. A cat tells his man (Karl) to let him outside. While on his walk, the cat meets a dog. The cat invites the dog to his house to meet Karl.

Of course, the pets can talk. Hmm, what other stories have animals that talk? Oh, there was that novel I wrote when I grew up called “Eye of the Wolf,” which features talking wolves. Seems to be a common theme here.

The dog then invites the cat and Karl over to his house. The dog’s human is a woman (Janet), and at the sight of her, Karl “knew they were going to be good friends.” Romance blossoms, thanks to their pets.

Later, the cat and dog go on a walk and meet a parrot who lives in their neighborhood. At first, the cat wants to eat the parrot, but the parrot talks him out of it, because he’s “too young to die.” In the way of stories written by children, that makes immediate sense to the cat, who befriends him instead.

The trio travel to the dog’s house to introduce the parrot to Janet. Karl is also at the dog’s house. When the parrot tells them who his master is (her name is Sally) and Karl (stupidly) tells them that Sally is his new girlfriend, Janet kicks him out.

Intrigue, romance, jealousy, talking animals . . . what a great combination for a story! I won’t bore you with the rest of the intricate details, but in the end, the women have a brawl over the men and each woman ends up married. Karl walks around for most of the story with a pillow strapped to his behind from all the kicking-out by angry women. It’s so bad, he hires a bodyguard to protect him.

When the bodyguard asks Karl why he needs his help, Karl says, “I have two girlfriends. They found out that I found out that they found out I was in love with both of them. So they fight me. And I’m too young to die.” The bodyguard (Jace) agrees and everything is all right. Jace eventually gets his own story at the end of the series. (The walbirus is Jace’s pet.)

Hmmm, Karl was the name of the bad guy who gets into a fight in “Eye of the Wolf,” too. I honestly did not make that connection until just now. I wonder what I have against men with that name?

The spelling in the stories is creative, “introduchen,” “charicktures,” for characters, “dubble” for double, and “nabors” for neighbors.

In the sequels, the pets, while still integral to the plot, take more of a back seat. As in the first book, most of the sequels end with marriages. Gee, my novel “Plover Landing,” ends with a marriage. Hmm, I detect another commonality. I’m sure other similarities exist as well. If I were a major literary figure instead of just a world famous blogger (ahem), a psychologist delving into my genius would have a field day with these early stories.

Apparently, my plot ideas haven’t changed much from the beginning. But I hope my spelling has at least improved.

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Jace’s wedding at the end of the series.

Book Review: Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis

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Sinclair Lewis. Image courtesy of the Encyclopaedia Brittanica.

I was motivated to read “Babbitt” because the author lived in my hometown in the 1940s for a time. I periodically drive by the house Sinclair Lewis used to own and it made me curious to read his works.

Also, my mother had a brush with Lewis. As a home economics major at the University of Minnesota, to gain experience she worked as a cook for a professor who had Lewis over for dinner one night. As I recall, my mother was not impressed with the author, saying that his face was pock-marked, he seemed unhappy, and was inordinately self-absorbed.

Although the book and its slang are dated, I found the tale eerily relevant, given the current political climate. It’s not so much a story as it is an extended character study of George Babbitt, a real estate broker in the mythical town of Zenith (which is patterned after Sauk Centre, MN). And if you ever wondered how white male privilege came about, this story reads like a propaganda packet for it and it will enlighten you.

During Babbitt’s time, cigar lighters in cars were a big deal. Ads were written in flowery language with fountain pens, and protracted descriptions of electrical outlet covers could make their way into novels. “Boosterism” was big. Prominent community members were expected to extol the virtues of their small towns far and wide to encourage business and prosperity.

Babbitt is a 48-year-old economic booster who faces a mid-life crisis – kind of like if Donald Trump ever got a conscience or sought spiritual enlightenment. The story follows him from his rise to the ultimate booster, to his decline after his friend is jailed for a shooting. Babbitt begins to question the social culture of his town and he rebels to the point of drinking heavily, having an affair, and consorting with **gasp** liberals and men deemed as socialists.

Babbitt is brought back to the fold of social respectability after his wife contracts appendicitis and the community rallies around his family. However, after his wife’s recovery, the old rebellion starts in on him again. He feels powerless to act on it because he’s finally back in the good graces of the town’s powerful men.

It is at this time [spoiler alert!] when his son elopes with the neighbor girl. After they come back home and announce their news, the shocked families start expressing their disapproval, except for Babbitt, who takes his son aside into another room. Babbitt praises him for having the guts to buck society and do the things that Babbitt was never strong enough to do. Thus, he passes the torch of social rebellion onto his son to carry.

My favorite scene in the book involves the subtle satirical humor at a dinner party where all the men complain about small town hicks who repeat the same things over and over again during their dinner parties because they are so uncultured. Each big city cultured Zenith man at the table expresses this same complaint, just in different words.

Although Lewis is an astute observer of human nature and his story is meant to be a cutting social commentary, the language makes it rather quaint today. It’s full of words like “zip” and “pep,” and such shocking swear words as “golly,” and “rats.”

But I liked the story. I gave it three out of five stars on Goodreads. I feel I’ve done my duty in reading a local author. Next time I drive by his former house, I’ll utter a couple of “gollies” in his honor.