September 30: Saint Marty's Day, Book Club, Classic Saint Marty

Most of my loyal disciples are probably wondering why I haven't been speaking of the big, upcoming holiday.  Well, it's because I've been too busy to give it even one thought.  Today, however, I intend to start my holiday preparations:  dragging out the decorations, putting up the tree, playing traditional carols, baking cookies, buying and wrapping presents. 

That's right.  Saint Marty's Day is almost upon us.  As of this moment, there are exactly four days, eight hours, and 21 minutes shopping days left.  So, it's time to deck the Saint Marty's Day halls.  And don't forget the traditional dessert for Saint Marty's Day:  tapioca pudding. 

I know what you're all thinking right now:  I forgot to send out my Saint Marty's Day cards.  That's alright.  You still have a couple days left.  Saint Marty's Day is Friday, so, if you get your cards in the mail by Tuesday, they should reach their destinations in plenty of time.

In case you are a Saint Marty's Day atheist, let me share a few pictures from Saint Marty's Day celebrations around the world.

Japan:

Greece:

Rome:

England:

North Korea:

As you can tell, everybody from all 'round the world is getting in the Saint Marty's Day spirit. 

Tonight, I'm hosting my book club.  It's our annual Saint Marty's Day meeting.  That's right, Saint Marty's Day nog will be consumed this evening.  At the end of the night, we will hold hands, stand in a circle, and sing old Saint Marty's Day carols like "We Wish You a Merry Saint Marty's Day" and the old English "In the Bleak Saint Marty's Day."  It will be a lovely time.

A year ago, I was contemplating time and Saint Marty's Day as well . . .

September 30, 2017:  Standing on Thin Air, Randazzo's Fruit Market, 50th Saint Marty's Day

Billy now moved about the party--outwardly normal.  Kilgore Trout was shadowing him, keen to know what Billy had suspected or seen.  Most of Trout's novels, after all, dealt with time warps and extrasensory perception and other unexpected things.  Trout believed in things like that, was greedy to have their existence proved.

"You ever put a full-length mirror on the floor, and then have a dog stand on it?" Trout asked Billy.

"No."

"The dog will look down, and all of a sudden he'll realize there's nothing under him.  He thinks he's standing on thin air.  He'll jump a mile."

"He will?"

"That's how you looked--as though you all of a sudden realized you were standing on thin air."

Standing on thin air.  I frequently experience that feeling.  I can be walking along, smell something like an orange or banana, and suddenly I'm walking through Randazzo's Fruit Market in Detroit with my mother when I was five or six.  I shell a peanut, put it in my mouth, and I'm sitting at the Shrine Circus, watching the tigers jump through a flaming hoop.  I'm in thin air, between now and then.

Billy knows a few things about becoming unstuck in time.  This week, as I approach my 50th Saint Marty's Day, I'm going to be a little unstuck, too.  You're going to have to forgive me if I wax nostalgic about my past.  I'm standing on a mirror, looking down and up on myself.

I have a daughter who's a junior in high school.  She was born in the first year of the new millennium.  She never knew the twentieth century.  Can't remember a time when iPods and iPhones didn't exist.  I have a son in the fourth grade.  He thinks that Barack Obama was and should have been President of the United States forever.  (He and I agree on this little point.)

I will be cleaning my house this afternoon.  Then I will go to church and play the pipe organ.  For dinner, pizza from Pizza Hut.  These are things that I have done on Saturdays, without too much variation, for years.  Not exactly traditions.  More like comfortable routines.  That's what I see in the mirror I'm standing on today.

Saint Marty is thankful for routines.


I feel all warm and fuzzy now.  Don't you? 

Saint Marty's Day is on the way!

September 20: Making Love to the World, Born to Write, Saint Marty's Day Nog

Billy helped Trout deliver his papers, driving him from house to house in the Cadillac.  Billy was the responsible one, finding the houses, checking them off.  Trout's mind was blown.  He had never met a fan before, and Billy was such an avid fan.

Trout told him that he had never seen a book of his advertised, reviewed, or on sale.  "All these years," he said, "I've been opening the window and making love to the world."

"You must surely have gotten letters," said Billy.  "I've felt like writing you letters many times."

Trout held up a single finger.  "One."

"Was it enthusiastic?"

"It was insane.  The writer said I should be President of the World."

It turned out that the person who had written this letter was Eliot Rosewater, Billy's friend in the veterans' hospital near Lake Placid.  Billy told Trout about Rosewater.

"My God--I thought he was about fourteen years old," said Trout.

"A full grown man--a captain in the war."

"He writes like a fourteen-year-old," said Kilgore Trout.

I like Kilgore Trout more and more.  Trout is the quintessential frustrated writer.  Every day, waking up, opening his window, and making love to the world with language.  He continues to write and publish even though it has never made him money.  Continues even though he's not even sure if anyone is reading his books.  He writes and writes, perhaps because that is what he was born to do.

It's rare to know what you are born to do.  Personally, I can't think of a single individual in my life who is living the dream, who gets up every day excited to go to work, excited to see what the day holds.  Maybe a few retirees who seem to have mission and purpose, who know exactly what their contribution to the universe will be.  Other than that, it's about punching time clocks, collecting paychecks, and counting down to Friday at 5 p.m.

I have to say that I sort of know that I was put on this planet to be a writer.  Writing is what makes me happy, fills me up.  Given the choice between sitting on a beach or writing at a desk, I would choose the a desk every time.  That's how I can say with a good deal of certainty that I am supposed to be a writer.

However, I have responsibilities.  A wife.  Kids.  House and cars.  My wife has bipolar and needs expensive medications.  My son has ADHD and needs expensive meds, as well.  I'm a diabetic with an insulin pump.  Again, expensive medications and supplies.  So, responsibilities get in the way of my passion.  Most nights, I'm too tired to even think about sitting down with my journal.

So I write in stolen moments.  Five minutes before I clock in for work.  Ten minutes at lunch.  A half hour before I teach a class.  I write on scraps of paper, napkins, used envelopes.  I cobble together my writerly life from the leftovers of my day, and I'm happy for those leftovers. 

This afternoon, after I publish my blog posts, I'm not going to write anything fun.  I'm going to type up a handout on an assignment for the mythology class that I'm currently teaching.  After that's done, if I'm lucky, I may have fifteen or twenty minutes of REAL writing.  My writing.

If I'm lucky.  And I will be very thankful for that time.

Only 15 more days left to Saint Marty's Day.  Time to whip up a batch of Saint Marty's Day nog, which is a lot like eggnog, but with Bailey's Irish Cream.

September 28: Seven Days to Go, Classic Saint Marty, New Cartoon

Welcome to Sunday night.  It has been a great weekend.  The weather has been perfect.  Near 80 degrees, no rain.  I actually went for a run yesterday and today.  I haven't been able to do that for almost two months because of an injury.

Tonight, I'm going to be decorating our Saint Marty's Day tree with my family.  After all, Saint Marty's Day is only a week away.  Next Sunday, to be precise.  I may even bake some Saint Marty's Day cookies and drink some Saint Marty's Day nog.  I've been listening to Saint Marty's Day carols for the last couple weeks.  My favorite is Bing Crosby crooning "White Saint Marty's Day."

Today's episode of Classic Saint Marty first aired almost two years ago.  It puts me in the Saint Marty's Day spirit.

October 5, 2012:  Saint Marty's Day Around the World

The day everyone has been waiting for has arrived!  Happy Saint Marty's Day to everyone.  I thought I'd take some time this morning to share some photos that show how the world is celebrating this annual holiday.

First, Saint Marty's Day in Rio...

Gotta love those costumes!  Viva Saint Marty's Day!

Next, Saint Marty's Day in Germany...

Break out the tubas!

Next, Saint Marty's Day in London...

Her Majesty says, "We are very pleased to extend our Saint Marty's Day greetings to the world.  Now, if our grandson Harry would please put his clothes back on!"

Saint Marty's Day at the Vatican...

Pope Benedict has been heard to say, "Oh, I miss dose Sankt Marty Days in Germany.  Oompah!"

In Beijing, the Chinese people go all out...

Gotta love those fireworks and dragons!

How about Russia...

They even put a party hat on Lenin's body in Red Square.

And, a little closer to home, in New Orleans...

Keep those shirts on, ladies!

And, last but not least, the Saint Marty's Day tree at Rockefeller Center...

Saint Marty wishes everyone a blessed and holy Saint Marty's Day.  As Tiny Tim would say, "God bless us.  Everyone!"

Confessions of Saint Marty