Our town backs up to the local mountains. Some cities have houses facing the sea. We have Mother Saddleback staring at our backyards. Fire ravaged the steep areas on the very edges of Rancho Santa Margarita a few months ago, burning all the way to the summit and up the slopes of the valley on the other side for miles. Last Wednesday Santa Ana winds roared through the pass connecting our town with cities on the other side of Saddleback.
A funny thing happened when I worked on Confronting the Presidents. I learned we have always been a divided nation. Whether over religious freedom, states rights, slavery, monetary policy, or race (among many others), America has always had one side violently (literally) opposed to another. It's how we roll. The book takes us from George Washington to Joe Biden in chronological order, so it was easy to track each rift as it grew and exploded and was either solved or suppressed. I'm not saying this to condemn the radical divisions in the country right now, though I certainly believe this is the craziest political time in our history by far. I'm just saying that we're decent people. We find a way.
The whole world is in love with Artificial Intelligence. I don't know all the things AI is capable of accomplishing, but people seem to love is that it makes writing easier. Letters, emails, term papers — no more struggling to find the right word and build a smart sentence. Let AI do it.
You know who doesn't love AI?
Writers.
I don't really put a lot of preparation into this space. I like to riff. But yesterday morning I had one of those breakthrough awarenesses that seems tailor-made for blogging. It is this: one of life's great pleasures is being the first to break the toilet paper seal in a newly cleaned porta-pottie on race day. So righteous. So pure. Then to step out into the first moments of a pale morning sunrise and see runners arriving to compete. Washing my hands at one of those portable outdoor soap dispensaries, then wandering off in search of a food truck for a breakfast burrito.
I mean, does it get any better than that?
I'm gambling on the October Surprise.
Every cross country season has two parts: regular season (first nine weeks) and postseason (final three weeks, leading to the State Championship). I've had a pretty good run these past twenty years, making the postseason almost every time with both the boys and girls squads. I love being in Fresno the Saturday after Thanksgiving. The atmosphere is electric, the racing is intense, and I get to see all my coaching buddies. Standing atop the podium is also pretty excellent.
Django blew out his ACL and the vet says the surgery for an old dog is beyond expensive. So he prescribes pain pills and time, saying the joint will calcify. The doggie day care acknowledges his wound by putting a yellow band around his neck to indicate his limp is an injury. Combined with his normal blue collar it looks like he's wearing the flag of Ukraine around his neck. The place is now synonymous for anxiety, unpredictability, and complete What the Fuck.
t's cool here on the back porch this morning. I'm wearing a hoodie, like most days, but this time it's for warmth as much as comfort. Sunflowers in the garden make me smile just looking at them. The fountain gurgles that calming sound of running water. Simply enchanting. Why did I take so long replacing the electric pump?
This is what the end of September feels like. Most people live for summer but I'm an autumn guy....
Confronting the Presidents just hit #1 on The New York Times Best Seller list. That marks my sixteenth time on the list and I think a dozen at the top.
Yet I am conflicted.
