It's been a while since I last scribed this blog. Things are moving fast with The Rail. Last week I drove to Los Angeles to pick up 1,500 copies of the book. Now, this coming Monday, I will drive to my old neighborhood in The Bronx to do my first book reading and book signing. Wow! I can hardly believe it. Who would've thunk?
There is nothing like a road trip to allow the mind flights of freedom, unfettered imagination, retrospective clarity. Even more fantastic is a road trip back home. Despite Thomas Wolfe's novel, titled, You Can't Go Home Again, I intend to do just that. I intend to do it as an act of remembering, celebrating, and honoring my formative roots.
Oddly, I have less nostalgia for the past this time around. Or, perhaps it's better described as nostalgia for the future. What I mean is that I've taken the lessons of my coming-of-age and have applied them to my life as I am living it. Mostly it has been the power of community, the durability of initiatory experiences, and the resiliency of friendships forged so long ago.
The long and winding road beckons from one chapter of life, back to another, and then back again. I am deeply grateful, humbled, and excited.