Summer is over, autumn is arriving. The leaves on the birch--the one that stands proudly between the house and the Lake Superior shore--is turning yellow, branch by branch.
I'm proud, in the most un-Scandinavian way, that my next book is finally coming into print! We test-drove a few titles and finally landed on START WITH A SHOVEL: POETRY, PROSE, AND PLAYS.
It's about 200 pages of my work (poetry, prose, and plays, as you might have guessed from the title), written mostly in the past 25 years (but a couple of pieces with beginnings pre-2000).
I hope it finds readers (you?) and that they (you?) enjoy it.
Other changes are in the offing, as well. It's time to simplify some elements of our lives. My wife (and publisher) says that the Shuniah House Books website will be undergoing a few changes--she hopes they're not too jarring to visitors.
Also, I won't be writing here. As many of you know already, I was diagnosed with dementia a few years ago, mostly affecting my short-term memory. I still play with words in various ways, but I likely won't write much for public consumption. (Never say never, my wife says.)
This site will remain up, and she'll update it with news about my books and relevant links to the new website, when it appears. So if you come here looking for a link to (for instance) reader questions for any of my books, you'll find it. (Not yet, my wife says.)
I understand that dementia can be a frightening diagnosis, and some days I feel discouraged and frustrated. But what is, is.
Moreover, "when I consider how my life is spent" (Sonnet 19, Milton), I'm amazed at the life my parents made possible. Both of them--so intelligent, in different ways--chose to come to North America, to a life in which their intelligence would be underestimated again and again because of their accents. They persevered, and through their examples, I learned about hard work, community, and keeping my word.
Today, I can't count the ways in which my life has been wonderful. The leaves on the birch--the one that stands proudly between the house and the Lake Superior shore--is turning yellow, branch by branch. Summer is over, autumn is arriving.
