It’s a funny thing, the way the human mind works. I received an email recently from a friend, and it started a train of thought, a leisurely excursion train that meandered around in scenic loops and byways, until I ended up thinking about another friend, a man I haven’t seen for several years.
I wrote a profile about this man for a magazine, but between the initial query and the finished product, the magazine changed editors and the new editor decided he wanted to take the magazine “in a different direction.” That’s editor-speak for “get lost, pal.” So the profile languished in my computer until my luxury excursion train of thought reminded me of it.
It took a while to find it. Darleen criticizes me for being a trifle disorganized in my filing system. She has even gone so far as to suggest Amelia Earhart, Judge Crater, and Jimmy Hoffa might all be hiding safely and happily in my computer, possibly playing canasta and not paying their income taxes. When she makes such unkind statements, I quote the wonderful Anne Lamott: “…clutter and mess show us life is being lived. Clutter is wonderfully fertile ground—you can still discover new treasures under all those piles, clean things up, edit things out, fix things, get a grip. Tidiness suggests something is as good as it’s going to get.” Then I pray my wife and Anne Lamott never meet.
But I did finally locate the profile (The Kid, At Twilight), and I have posted it in my short story section. It’s not a short story—it’s completely true, every word—but as I don’t have a profile section, that seemed about as good a place as I could come up with.
I hope you enjoy it.