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Looking Back
at 30*
At the end of April this year, on my 65th birthday, A Safe Place To Land came on line.
Today we start our seventh month in cyber space. That’s 424 Random Thoughts, around
200 poems and 186 Flight Plans; but who’s counting? Me. It hasn’t always been
easy, especially with many flight plans written the morning of a deadline and revised just
hours [in one case minutes] before being posted. Still, all in all it’s been fun,
certainly educational and a workout for my one and a half fingered keyboard style.
Nobody does this kind of thing alone and over the months ahead I hope to get around to
thanking everybody involved by writing a bit about their contributions. For now, I’d
like to give special thanks to all of you who have remained faithful throughout the months
by continuing to make the daily flight plan part of your day. I appreciate your comments,
letters and even the occasional brickbat. Alas, I’m not the one who gets the nasty
letters. More often than not, the mean mail goes to Ken Blackie our loveable and blameless
Webmaster.
Why Does The Feeling Go Away?
Pity the poor Webmaster of this site. When things go right, as I like to think they
usually do, he seldom gets praise but when someone feels there’s a ‘bitch’
in order, he receives every one of them. A case in point from last week: . . . and this is
one of the milder ones:
Hi Web Master,
I have enjoyed this site very much in the past! Sorry to say but
I don’t need a history lesson! I give a shit! What happened to the way it used to be?
The better way! : SARAH S.
Dear Sarah,
While you’re waiting for me to come over and wash your mouth out with soap, (kidding
of course), thought I’d explain something. I’m the one responsible for the so
called ‘history lessons’, not Ken. Years ago Stanyan used to issue a Rod McKuen
calendar every year and most of the dates and comments in the past months are taken from
the 365 holidays I compiled (with the invaluable help of Wade Alexander) in the back of
each issue. We’ve had dozens of requests to reprint the material or do new calendars,
so I figured that to soften the pressures of writing something new every day, I’d
augment the flight plans by compiling dates and editorial comments from calendars of years
gone by.
Get over it, Sarah, because now and again when I’m working with Ken on the upcoming
Stanyan Web site, toiling with Rich Keigler to get more CD’s out or stopping to
complete a song or two with my talented new songwriting partner Bob Gentry, I’ll be
using this device again. There will also be lots of new stuff. This month, for instance,
in the span of one week, several of my friends and favorite talents have birthdays, so
I’ll be pausing to write tributes to Jo Stafford, Petula Clark and Johnny Mercer,
among others.
When A Safe Place To Land came into being, thanks to Ken’s prodding and unwavering
belief, he and I had high hopes that in addition to the daily flight plan I’d be able
to answer mail on a weekly basis in Ask Rod & contribute new poetry twice monthly. A
few thousand letters later, this hasn’t been the case. Still I’m working on it;
it’s just that Life sometimes seems to get in the way.
Is There Life After Tower Records?
I know it will surprise a lot of you to learn that after all these years, I’ve
finally gotten a life. Imagine. Have a new kitten named Sunny who demands more attention
that the other three cats combined. A new ‘something else’ that I love giving
every spare moment to. And then, of course, there’s Edward, keeper of the flame and
writer of checks. Though I often find his reality checks on trying to earn a living and
pay my bills intrusive, I doubt that I could write any better in debtors prison and am not
particularly anxious to give it a try. So I do some paying work too.
To appease him for a bit, I bought Edward a new iMac. He can now enjoy Mac magic and the
Internet as much as I do. Today he tells me the bill for his fancy machine is past due and
would I pay it out of my personal account please; adding that he would appreciate some of
my help in showing him how the damm thing works. The nerve.
Tough getting a life after such a long time and having to make a living too.
The Grand Opening Going Out Of Business Sale
If you take umbrage at ‘history lessons’, imagine Ken’s E-mail during the
time The Guru took over the column! Another very mild sample:
Dear Webmaster:
Why are you printing the crazy ramblings of Swami Rami Salami in the flight plan? This
anti-feminist claptrap belongs at the bottom of a birdcage not amid McKuen’s
sensitive writings. Wise up. Marian The Librarian.
Again, yours truly is the guilty party. This "clap-trap’ started out as a book I
authored under a pseudonym in the 1970’s. The Swami was meant to be anti everything.
This guy wasn’t even my ‘alter ego’ just a warped send up of religion,
politics and screwball living. Who knew that now it would be even more controversial than
when it was first published.
In the original, friends, including Wade, J. Foster & Jane Wilkie made up the inane
questions & I made up the insane answers. This time around I enlisted the help of
tara, Bill and Stargirl for the questions. Hell. Stargirl’s questions were so off the
wall I even included a couple of her suggested answers. Bill & tara’s
contributions were wild enough to probably endanger their duel citizenship.
The mail on "Help My Guru Died" was so er, unusual, that I finally blew up the
poor swami in ‘the mother of all chicken droppings. Don’t be surprised, however,
if he rises from the grave (as mystics are want to do). Point being that, like many
another writer, I occasionally need relief from setting down not only what’s expected
of me, but also what I know I do best. Sue me. As concertgoers know I’m a frustrated
stand-up comic.
People On Their Birthdays.
Then there’s the listing of birthdays. Wade Alexander not only provides ongoing
research for this department but checks and rechecks all my awful spelling of names. He
lives in another time zone. Alas last month things got so crazy around here that I
wasn’t able to submit my final selections for him to correct. Lots of errors. Sorry,
Wade. And it was my fault, not his, that one of the nicest people in my new life, Larry
Baillie, saw October 27th go by without a well deserved mention of his birthday.
Apologies, Larry. Next year when you turn sweet sixteen it will be duly noted. . . or my
name isn’t Jimmy Webb.
Few words go out of here that I haven’t written. Write me the nasty notes. I can
handle them. Everyone else’s job around these parts runs like clockwork. And, they
all do it pro bono. Those of you who drop in to ASPTL more than twice a week can attest to
the fact that compared to some other sites, our is down less often and easier to access
than most. Think about it . . . how many times compared to other sites you visit are we
down or hard to access?
Without A Worry In The World
Enough already. I’m having a ball working at and on A Safe Place To Land and I hope
to be here as long as you tolerate me. Maybe even long after. Again my thanks for the
pleasure of your company on this latest journey. I love you and I love being here for you
as you have been for me all these years.
- RM 10/31/98
* "30", Editorial term for end of
an article or story. |
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Bill Anderson o
Benvenuto Cellini o Stephen Crane o Larry Flynt o Robert Foxworth o Eugene Jochum o Victoria de los Angeles o Lyle Lovett o
Betsy Palmer o Roger Quilter o Gary Player o Marcia Wallace |
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Men fear thought
above all else, but only thinking sets us free.
The planets keep exact time in their revolutions, why
can’t we keep appointments?
Loss is something to be gotten over in preparation for the
gains upcoming.
Common sense sees the visible; imagination goes beyond. |
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I BELIEVE IN ONE TO ONE |
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To those few who know me
my religion is well known.
I believe in bodies
arms entangling
and untangling.
I believe, and I know it to be so
that there are so many curves
and hollows
in a single body
that none of us
none of us
can come to know them all
within a lifetime
but I’ll go on trying.
My faith is sure.
It can’t be killed or stopped
by one opening I wanted
that didn’t open,
by one mound
that wasn’t soft
enough
to ease my head,
by one I sought
but didn’t win,
by a wound of love
so fresh it hasn’t healed.
I believe in one to one
and one on one.
No wine or magic
no hand me-down-Bible
can improve on that.
I believe in spring
but only if I’m rolling in a pillow
or hold some well loved face
is any world green enough for me.
- From "Celebrations of the Heart", 1975 |
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