She’s actually quite a lovely person, as long as you find yourself in alignment with her version of absolute truth. Any attempt to debate, discuss, refute or think differently from her firmly-established points of view is an invitation to ruin. She can be difficult.

After thirty years I know her pretty well. I’ve learned that “Never a dull moment” is all you can count on. I know that she knows what she wants, and that I can’t tell her anything that she doesn’t already know and also consider to be wrong and beyond stupid so why did I even mention it? Then it’s a spat.

I am conflict adverse, and even when I know for double-dog sure that she is completely uninformed about a given subject, I have learned to keep it to myself, which means that I spend a lot of time looking down at my shoes so she doesn’t see me rolling my eyes. It is also a powerful incentive to spend as much time as I can in the recording studio with the door closed. I don’t see that my presence is missed.

An old friend once ventured, “Relationships have a shelf life.” He’s been married more than twice, and I know plenty of other couples who act like they are ready to trade the relationship either for the single life or what they hope is a better match. The question for all of us seems to be: “Is this how I want to spend the rest of my life?”

Is the devil you know of less concern than the one who might or might not be waiting around the corner? What will it take for me to decide I’ve had enough? Do I even believe in magic anymore or is that done? Does it all come down to cutting your losses?

I don’t know all the answers. If I did know I’d probably suggest that it’s time to practice the notions I preach to myself when I lay me down at night and pretend to sleep:

This is not a dress rehearsal

Bloom where you are planted

Be here now

Life is good

Be careful what you wish for

Then I turn on the light and write down what I hope are the start of lyrics for a new song:

Out of nowhere, a change of plan
Starting all over
all over again
It happens, it happens

Harpeth Rivers is a New Mexico transplant from all over who has in the last year written songs about isosceles triangles, played bass guitar in a band, and declared himself “Retro-eclectic.” His novel-in-progress is entitled Last Year.

I bumped into Eleanor Roosevelt the other day outside the Apple store. It looked like she was carrying the new iPad. No surprise there – the lady has a knack for connecting with people and texts and emails are great tools for that.

Elly, how goes it? What’s your take on #metoo and #timesup?

The battle for the individual rights of women is one of long standing and none of us should countenance anything which undermines it.

Amen to that sister. But do you think women can sustain the movement?

A woman is like a tea bag – you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.

But the personal attacks that some women have experienced…

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.

You certainly demonstrated that a first lady could have great influence.

As for accomplishments, I just did what I had to do as things came along. 

Sure, I can see that but you risked a lot when you spoke out about injustice, civil rights and the plight of the poor.

Do what you feel in your heart to be right- for you’ll be criticized anyway. You’ll be damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.

Does it pain you to see what the political climate is now in America? 

Sometimes I wonder if we shall ever grow up in our politics and say definite things which mean something, or whether we shall always go on using generalities to which everyone can subscribe, and which mean very little. 

A lot of people are discouraged by our present polarization and want to opt out or disengage. 

Life must be lived and curiosity kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life. 

How do you stay so upbeat? Everyone wants to be happy but we don’t know how to get there.

Happiness is not a goal; it is a by-product.

It seems like everyone wants their 15 minutes of fame now, to go viral on the internet, to be recognized for something, anything. Do you see the downside to it all?

I once had a rose named after me and I was very flattered. But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalogue: no good in a bed, but fine up against a wall.

Funny. I’ve got to run but what’s the biggest lesson you learned from your experience?

I think that somehow, we learn who we really are and then live with that decision.

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

The beer-bike race is a campus tradition that takes place just prior to spring break, when the end of the year is in sight and the Houston weather is begging you to be outdoors. Just barely interested in my freshman courses, I was eager to participate as one of the riders representing our dorm.

The event had been around since the introduction of the Schlitz 16-ounce beer can in the 1950’s. Each team fielded ten drinkers and ten riders. The tops of the cans were cut out for increased speed, but drinking that much beer in a hurry takes practice, and our team worked at it in the weeks leading up to the race. Somebody was always pushing the envelope for a personal best time.

The spectacle began with a gunshot, heads were thrown back, and representatives each drained a can of beer. Then a teammate would ride full-throttle into the first of the 90 degree turns required to circumnavigate the campus.

At the end of each lap, burly teammates would stand ready to jerk the exhausted rider off the bike, another teammate chugged another beer, while a new rider jumped on for the next lap. And so it did continue, the spectators screaming for their favorites, and the crashes were part of the entertainment. I was the first rider on our squad, and I managed to finish the course with a small lead.

We had chosen a student to ride the last leg for all the right reasons. Robert was almost 7 feet tall and had been captain of the football team that played in the Sugar Bowl. He was also a Rhodes Scholar and a serious competitor.

He was pulling away from the pack and only fifty yards from winning the race when the front tire blew out and sent him sprawling across the asphalt. He was hurt, but not so badly that he couldn’t pick up the demolished bicycle and carry it with him as he hobbled for the finish line still in first place.

That was a proud moment for the team and a good enough excuse to party like it was 1961. There was a young new President in the White House, Ricky Nelson sang “Hello, Mary Lou,” I had a girlfriend visiting for the weekend, and only a few people knew at that point what was about to happen to the country, to the music, or to the tradition.

Harpeth Rivers is a New Mexico transplant from all over who has in the last year written songs about isosceles triangles, played bass guitar in a band, and declared himself “Retro-eclectic.” His novel-in-progress is entitled Last Year.

F I C T I O N  I bumped into Mark Twain the other day as he was coming out of Brooks Brothers. The white suit was so bright that I was temporarily blinded.

“Mark, I mean Sam? Is that you?”

The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.

“It’s funny that you say that because some people just keep harping on this whole fake news thing.”

Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please.

“Exactly, and there’s a whole lot of distortion going on these days. What some would call outright lies.”

The most outrageous lies that can be invented will find believers if a man only tells them with all his might.

“Well there’s a lot of that going around these days, especially among people elected to hold high office.”

Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it.

“Amen to that. Are you working on any new books? You still have a lot of fans/”

My books are like water; those of the great geniuses are wine. Fortunately everybody drinks water.

“And everybody likes a good Mark Twain yarn.”

I have been complimented many times and they always embarrass me; I always feel that they have not said enough.

“That’s witty. I wish I thought of that one.”

Repartee is something we think of twenty-four hours too late.

“True, but you seem to have a knack for the bon mots. How do you remember them?”

When I was younger I could remember anything, whether it happened or not.

“That’s one of the drawbacks of getting older I guess.”

Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.

“Say again?”

The more you explain it, the more I don’t understand it.

“I don’t know what to say.”

It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.

“This may be a foolish question then, but do you believe in the afterlife?”

Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.

“I’ll drink to that, but I need to be going.”

All right, then, I’ll go to hell.

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

To Helen Bach,
I’ve ended a long-term relationship and now I’m wondering how long should I feel guilty for leaving someone I used to love? When do I get to be happy?
Signed
Still Feeling Guilty for Wanting Happiness

Dear Still Feeling Guilty,

And feeling guilty is doing exactly what for you? The truth is we don’t always love forever. Hang out in guilt, finish rehashing the old arguments. Also, trust that time for mourning the loss is required. Then when you are ready, commit to your vision of what you choose next…Joy? Rewrite the story you’re telling of your life now that you’re free. Give yourself credit for moving toward happiness. Clarify in detail what you want, ‘cause you’re likely to get it. You need permission? Here it is: go – dance, sing! Life is short.

Helen

To Helen Bach,
I have been on a dating site for the “mature set” for a few months now and all the men I’m really attracted to are 10 years younger than me. Do you think it’s wrong to only date younger men and what do I do if one of these guys gets serious?
Signed
Stud Muffin Magnet

Dear Magnet,

Hello? Ok, ten years might be a slightly large gap, but do I really have to tell you to lap it up? Seriously, there is nothing wrong with it. You must be a woman… men have no problem dating younger women, or haven’t you noticed. Do you love some of the same music? Can you talk for hours or sit in silence with equal ease? Travel well together? Share books? Those are the questions. Age really doesn’t matter, it’s what you do with it.

Helen

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