Writing About Lives

SALZBURG – This is how you cook your travel iron.

1. Follow the directions. Even though the maker of the travel iron promises this gadget is made for the 220 volts of European electricity, as opposed to ours which is half that, it is not.

2. Plug it into the outlet and go into the washroom.

3. Smell the smoke.

4. Step out of the washroom and see a gray smoke plume swirling into the atmosphere.

“But this iron is supposed to work in Europe,” a bit of reason flashed through my head.
Fortunately I had the wherewithal to unplug the iron before any damage was done to me, the room or the gadget.

And even more fortunately I had a converter that enabled me to resume ironing. Always take an electrical converter. Once I cooked a printer in my dorm room in Madrid and vowed to never cook any other gadgets. The flames came fast, mighty and created a rainbow of colors.

That was the most exciting thing that happened in Münchenland.

Now it’s all about Salzburg. I knew the pictures on the travel guides were lovely but I had no idea just how gorgeous this place would be. Beyond post card perfect. Got here safely at 2 p.m. and am all settled into my flat right on the square next to the Salzburg Museum.

MÜNCHEN- Much to my surprise and delight the city is pretty much shut down because of some national holiday which is fine by me. I arrived here at about noon and to my hotel at 2:30 because I opted to take the subway and railcar rather than pay 50 Euros to ride a taxi. Anyway, it’s cold, a little overcast and I’m beat. Expect a more chipper report tomorrow.

Samuel

I’ve been mighty quiet as I prepare for Europe. The trip is upon me. On Sunday afternoon I fly from JFK to London and taking a connecting flight to Munich where I will recover for a few days. From there I will head to Salzburg for a week. Over the course of the three weeks I want to hit Vienna or Zurich. Berlin is a for sure target. This marks the first time I will be out of the United States for such a long time in a region of the world where I don’t know the language.

Although I will be working in Salzburg, I intend to blog about the flavor, cultural texture and feel of all the places I visit. Writing seems to come more alive to me when I’m not in the US, which makes me wonder if I’m an ex-patriate at heart. Tis always thrilling to leave the borders of this country to see how people in other parts of the world are living. My cell phone has been placed on an international plan but I will only call under the rarest of circumstances. Internet cafes abound all over Europe I know, so I will be blogging regularly and checking email. Thanks to my friend Michael and his wife Sandra for their travel tips for Germany and to my friend Franck, a travel agent extraordinaire who has helped me immensely. See you online.

Samuel

My cousing Clara arrived here on Thursday from Grady, Arkansas, a town of 523 people I’ve written about in a previous blog. We’ve hit Times Square, Soho, Chinatown, the Wall Street area, the Columbia University campus, Upper West Side and Harlem. Her time here has helped me appreciate even more what we have here in New York. From the time she got off that plane until she went to bed last night she has been a ball of joy, completely blown away by everything that is NYC. I’m so glad she’s here.

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If you don’t like the opinions, website or author there are millions of other websites or blogs you can read. Why bother? Why be a hater? I created this website for my few friends who want to keep up with me. What’s really cowardly is my name and face are posted here. You know who I am. I don’t know who you are. The vengeance you have against me, whoever you are, becomes cancer in your bones so look out.

Enjoy that San Diego sunshine whoever you are at (IP: 68.8.232.25 , ip68-8-232-25.sd.sd.cox.net)

Respectfully.
Samuel

My friend Gun took this new pic

In the summer of 1997, when I was working for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, I went to Arkansas to visit my relatives for our annual Fourth of July family reunion in Grady. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, but as I drove away I got the distinct feeling that I needed to write about these people and this place. It was a deep and abiding feeling that has never left me.

Five years later when I resigned from newspapers, my first instinct was to write about them. I remember sitting in the living room at a friend’s house early one morning. I pulled out a pad of paper and started writing long hang about my mother’s “sanctified” sister and her twelve children. It was only five or six pages. I felt so overwhelmed by it because it meant so much to me and I wanted to do it justice.

I’m convinced those raw, awkwardly constructed pages are what got me into Columbia’s MFA program. I always thought I would write about later in life but the story seems to want to come forth now. At school there were hints of my mother’s sister Freddie Mae saying this or that. Finally I gave her her own essay “The Last Sanctified Lady.” Each time I’ve written about her in workshop, people can’t seem to get enough.

Last night was the final reading for the 2007 Columbia MFA Thesis group. I read a 3 page condensed version of the piece. I’m there worst judge of my own material. I stumbled a few times. The glare of the lights made it impossible to see the audience. I was nervous and felt I’d botched it completely. The crowd, however, had a different experience. They roared at one point when I was reading in the voice of how she stood up and testified in church on Sundays. Afterward I must have have 30 people come up and tell me how much they enjoyed it.

As a journalist I’ve written about world famous people who’ve earned millions of dollars and touched the world with their art or community activists who’ve have compelling narratives. It seems that the stuff that’s in your gut or instinct or intuition that seems to touch people the most.

What’s so remarkable about the writing division at Columbia is how the faculty encourages our unique voices. Everyone who read over the last three nights is in such a different place as a writer than two short years ago. I simply cannot believe my Columbia experience is over. But then again, since it has led me back to where my heart was all along but more capable, then I am just getting started.

I have been astounded at what having a blog for these last eight weeks has meant. People I have not heard from in years have told me they are reading. Journalism allowed me to write and have my work run immediately. In this creative writing bubble there have been fewer opportunities for having a relationship with readers. Blogging has been a nice way of getting my stuff back out into the world.

People have responded so favorably to the piece I wrote about my friendship with Rowena Cruz that I was almost overwhelmed by the kind comments. In fact, someone from Columbia’s School of the Arts linked it to the Our Word website, a group she was in charge of this year. I am always eager to hear what people have to say and I am not afraid to be challenged when people question my point of view, provided they leave their name so I can respond thoughtfully. I can’t respond to anonymous posts because I have no way of contacting the writer.

I am so happy people are enjoying the blog.