Plus ca change…

Well, a lot has changed since that last post. Let’s do a quick recap:

* Ten days after that post, I left Active. Perhaps I’ll get into that later, but now is not the time.
* In May, I crewed on the 51-foot Swan “Star Chaser” from St. Maarten to Newport, Rhode Island. SPECTACULAR time in many different regards.
* In June, I got re-certified as a scuba diver — 31 years and 11 months since I last got certified.
* And the day I got certified (Sunday, June 20), I abruptly came to the conclusion that I should head to Alaska and get my home there in order after my recently departed tenants had left the place in a shambles. Eight days later I was on the road, with a game plan to be in Alaska until the house sells or Labor Day, whichever comes first.

I’m now in said house in Anchorage and the work has begun. There is much to be done but I think I can get it hashed out in a couple of weeks…and then we’ll see what happens. As I expected, the closer I got to Alaska, the more I pondered staying. And now that I’m here, opportunities are arising (I’ve always said I have faith in the universe). So…we shall see.

In the meantime, I’m getting caught up here…and will post a recap of the journey north shortly. Stay tuned.

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One More…Once

It’s been how long since I’ve posted here? Yikes. And while it hasn’t been quite as long at my blog over on Active, it’s still been a while. So here it is, a return to the blogosphere, a return to the written (typed?) word, a return to…me.

I started out 2010 with a declaration that I was, to paraphrase Justin Timberlake, “bringing Luke back.” And thus far, it’s been a moderate success. I got my knee scoped and fixed, and ran pain-free on pavement yesterday for the first time in almost a year.

I’ve never been a good runner, and I can’t say that I truly enjoy the act of pounding out the miles (and yes, at my size/weight, it truly is “pounding out” the miles). But yesterday’s three-mile jaunt along the north San Diego County coast was almost ecstatic. No one would accuse me of gliding through the miles but it sure felt like it to me. The pace wasn’t particularly quick — an average of 8:30 miles — but it was faster than what I’ve done on the treadmill recently and faster than I expected to go in my return. But the ability to move at pace, at MY pace, was nothing short of a declaration of freedom…and it felt wonderful.

And here I am, back to the creation of words on a page (or at least the electronic version of a page). Like my running in the past 12 months, it’s been far too long; longer, even, than my absence from running and far more crippling. But as with those first days of physical therapy that then progressed to running on a treadmill and finally to yesterday’s excursion on the Pacific Coast Highway, this blog will serve as the tentative initial steps back into the life of creativity I once enjoyed. That life has been squelched in the past three years and thankfully, the universe has kicked me in the ass (again) to get back on the course I’m supposed to be traveling.

As sketchy as yesterday’s run was, so, too, are these initial posts going to be sketchy. So be it. They’re also a declaration of freedom. MY freedom.

Self-indulgent? Absolutely. But like I say: I’m bringing Luke back. 2010 is now a quarter over and the to-do items are being checked off. Getting back to a creative life is at the top of the list.

Count Basie gave me the title for this post. As he might have told his band at one time: hit it!

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Calling Julie Andrews

There’s a right and a wrong way to break in a new car. Getting into an accident on the way out of the dealer’s lot is, for instance, the wrong way. Thankfully, I opted for the better “no accidents on the way home” plan instead.

Whichever plan you choose, there are a few more subtle must-dos that need to be addressed when you get a new car. For instance, it’s imperative that the first piece of music played on the car stereo be something chosen for just such an occasion. When I picked up my F-250 back in 2001, I took a Jerry Jeff Walker cassette (“Live at Gruene Hall”) with me — it was cued up to “The Pickup Truck Song.” That was a no-brainer.

This evening, for the debut of my new CR-V, I struggled. I’ve been on a Buffett tear lately. How about the Grateful Dead, Cornell ’77? Maybe something aggressive like the Clash, London Calling.

In the end, I went with the “heavyweight champion of the world,” as he’s been called. No, not Muhammad Ali.

John Coltrane. “My Favorite Things.”

Also part of the breaking-in process is choosing an appropriate name. As with the music selection before I went to the dealer, I’m at a loss. So here’s a challenge to anyone reading this: submit your suggestions for a name for the new wheels. The prize? Um, well, not a damned thing, save for acknowledgement on the pages herein — that’s as close to immortality as you’re likely to get on this planet. Give it a shot. Drop me a line.

Muchas gracias.

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