Not to brag or anything, but I was a carbo-scarfing, chronically napping, antisocial television addict way before that was cool.
I was born to be that way, is why. And I mean that literally.
A weird thing about me is that my memories begin from about one minute after I was born. This is rare, but not four-leaf clover rare. (I was twenty-three before it finally sunk in for me that not everyone has as many memories from the time they were one minute to three years old as they do any other three year period of their life. Take away: long memory doesn’t equal brilliant.)
Along with how mind-blowingly bright it was in the delivery room (fun fact: what newborn babies are screaming is I need sunglasses!), one of my very first memories is of being held upside down by the doctor who delivered me.
When I suddenly found myself dangling in the cold and vast midair of that pea-green tiled room (in, as it turned out, a hospital in downtown Nashville), my first and only “thought” (because it wasn’t so much a thought as it was–I don’t know what you’d call it–an Immediate Foundational Imprint) was this: So this is life.
I totally assumed that I was experiencing the entirety of what it was to be alive. Because what else would I think?
Lay in a pan of warm water; stare into a woman’s huge deer eyes above what I now know was her white medical mask; be transfixed by a light attached high on the wall behind her, because the beams pouring out of it means has to be alive, even though pretty soon you realize it’s not exactly; hang upside down in midair.
Fast forward sixty-two years, and the coronavirus has placed me right back to exactly where I started: stuck in a state of suspended animation, feeling as if everything has been turned upside down, like I can’t touch anything, and like a power far beyond my control could at any moment drop me to the ground and kill me.
So. This is life.
More specifically, though, relative to the broader life I’m living today, I, two weeks before the coronavirus grounded us all like the angriest dad since Darth Vader, concluded my time as a freelance writer for the major daily newspaper here in Asheville, North Carolina. Over the course of some 3.5 years I had written for the Asheville Citizen-Times a real-time serial novel (Ashes to Asheville), an advice column (Ask John), and a column called Around Asheville.
In early March, its executive editor, Katie Wadington, left the Citizen-Times in order to move up in the ranks of Gannett Co., Inc., which owns the newspaper. (In late 2019, Gannett merged with GateHouse Media, Inc. to become the largest newspaper chain in the U.S., with over 260 newspapers in 46 states. Yet another round of Gannett/Gatehouse layoffs has begun at papers all across the country. Because, when you think about it, is a robust and independent press really all that important?)
Ms. Wadington’s tenure at the Citizen-Times started at the same time the paper agreed to publish on their website “Ashes to Asheville,” and her exit from the paper seemed like the right time for my own. My (amazing, but whatever) novel Everywhere She’s Not had been published six months prior, and I felt that the time had come for me to get back to writing fiction.
And that’s what I was doing when this freakin’ virus took over the world. I’d written the short stories The Very Best New Year’s Resolution, You Will See That I Have Left, Valentine’s Day — and then, boom: the virus froze my pen.
Turns out that when the imminent death of the whole human race is on the table, it’s difficult to think stuff like, “How can I make this sentence a little more succinct?” or, “Does this character need more backstory, or is it enough to know that she used to dress her bed pillow in a little-person’s tuxedo and spend the night whispering sweet nothings in the ear it didn’t have?”
So I gave up. I stopped writing.
But then, on Good Friday, I found myself basically obsessed with the twice-married, 73-year-old Vietnam war veteran widower whom I’d suddenly begun imagining. So I wrote his story, publishing Easter the next day. And telling that story seems to have unclogged my writer’s pipes.
But not in the way I expected it to. Because what I have found myself wanting to do since then is blog again.
I started blogging in 2007. In 2014 I suspended my blog in order to concentrate fully upon writing my novel. And I’ve barely blogged since.
But now I find myself missing the direct and personal communication that a blog affords. I also feel like I want to keep an ongoing journal/diary of my life during this full-on freakish time, and a blog is ideal for that.
Mostly, though, I miss the strong sense of community that my blog once created and nurtured. That was largely why I wrote my blog. (Well, that, and . . . to do this work.) And now I very much again want to hear your stories. I want to know how your life is going. I want to know how you’re doing. And I want to be with others as they respond to your stories, feelings and experiences.
All of that said, I am more than aware of the fact that today blogging is dead. The only way anyone’s ever been able to bring people to their blog is by linking to it on Facebook, and for years now Facebook has charged you an arm and a leg to show your friends or fans that you’ve posted something new on your blog. All a blogger can do these days is write and publish a post, try linking to it however they can, and then hope that anyone shows up to read it.
Which . . . I love, actually. (Susceptible as I am to missing the days when I considered a failure any blog post shared less than 10,000 times. I used to do 300,000 views a month. Now that many views a year is amazing.) The whole, “Is anyone hearing me?” thing actually works for me.
I was born to it, is why.
The best thing about writing a blog that you know few people are likely to see (at first, anyway! and probably forever! but we’ll see!) is that you can write about anything you want. No reason to sweat boring people in a room that’s empty. A-whoo-to-the-hoo!
So the first thing I’m going to write about–well, the second thing, starting with tomorrow’s post–is about . . . (drum roll, please!) . . . straw bale gardening!
You’ve heard the rumors! You’ve read the . . . I don’t know . . . random Facebook posts! You’ve seen the photographs!
Speaking of which, those are our straw bales above, as of this morning. This is our first year trying to grow Actual Food in the things that I’ve mainly ever thought of as Halloween decorations.
But more on all that tomorrow!
Until then, thanks for reading this. Please share, etc. And I’d of course appreciate even the most cursory comment, just so I know you were here.
Love to you! With all of my heart, I hope this finds you and yours doing well and staying healthy.
"It’s not easy to tell a story that is filled with hilarious humor, the pangs of love lost, excruciatingly sad family life and deep, deep inner circumspection that ultimately uplifts your soul, but John has done just that. I highly recommend you read this book; you will thank me later." — Jon Mayes, Advance Reading Copy
"Deeply engrossing . . . a highly satisfying reading experience . . . Shore's writing is so stylistically on target that the language itself falls away, allowing the reader to enter into the subtleties of the story completely. . . . Shore’s protagonist is authentically funny and rawly sympathetic . . . This novel stands apart for its originality. It is a testament to the notion that the strongest works are often those with simple storylines, exceptionally told. 10 out of 10." — Publisher's Weekly BookLife Prize 2019
"A powerfully compelling introspective look at life. . . This is a harrowing and fascinating novel." — Readers' Favorite
Hi John 👋. I’ve missed seeing you and reading the goodies that you come up with. Needless to say, this damn COVID screwed our trip to Scotland in the ear. We don’t seem to be getting much of our money back either which rather sucks too. They’re free with vouchers but who the hell knows if we’ll even be alive to use them? Anyway, life has a way of throwing monkey wrenches around when they’re least expected as we’re seeing now. Dodging them seems to be what we’re all about now. Keep on keeping on my man and stay in touch.
I was so happy to see something pop into my inbox saying you were back! I look forward to your insightful commentary to life in the age of Covid 19.
Marlene! It’s so good to hear from you! Long time, right? Well . . . thank you for coming back.
Glad you’re back John! I have been wondering when you’d pop up again, as I finished “Everywhere She’s Not” eons ago. I’m looking forward to your perspective during this long, strange trip we’re being drug along.
Well, I published “ESN” just about a year ago–last July. Since then I’ve written some short stories, etc. (Btw, I hope you liked ESN!) Anyway, thanks for kind words. My perspective on where we are-wise, I wrote the below, which I assume you’ve seen, but in case not:
https://www.johnshore.com/2020/05/where-and-how-trump-is-taking-us-all/
This is not the Revolution, that began with Reagan and the neoliberal economics that produced a corporate culture that successfully made the financial sector rather than the manufacturing sector the primary basis for our national economy. This is “The Terror” that followed the Revolution in France and led the people to embrace Napoleon as a means to restore social stability to the Nation:
CITY JOURNAL
from the magazine
https://www.city-journal.org/html/why-robespierre-chose-terror-12935.html
Why Robespierre Chose Terror
The lessons of the first totalitarian revolution
John Kekes
I mean . . . yeah. You just nailed it. We’re not at Actual “The Terror” times yet, obviously. But we’re about . . . well, one election gone very, very bad away from it. Not. Good. Thanks for your comment, Carol.
I am woo-hooing very loudly in my head! Not outloud, because, well, neighbors. But still!! So glad to have this to look forward to again! (grammar be damned).
Mindy!!! So great to connect with you again!
Blogging is “dead”, huh? Good think I like cemetery rambles. 🙂 (Writes the woman with multiple blogs of her own.)
I am anxious and doing a decent job of managing my anxiety. Since I don’t go out to make photos on a regularly basis due to a little thing called a pandemic, I have been mostly nurturing my creativity by playing The Sims 4. As always, I am very late to the party; I began playing in February even though this version of The Sims has been out for six years. It’s reinvigorated my imagination.
In spite of our community orchestra season being canceled, I have still been playing my violin regularly. Speaking of which, I have a Skype lesson with my teacher in an hour.
Love it! The best. Thank you, Wanda. Good to hear from you!
As per usual, I’m a bit late to the party. Just found out you’re back in the blogging biz. Congratulations to us all! (Also good to know I’m not the only guy with vivid memories of cribdom.) Welcome back!
Skip Johnston! The man himself! Great to hear from you. You, too, have those from-the-get-go memories? If so, you’ll be the first person I ever knew/met who does! (Not that I go around asking people if they remember from their birth. And I never bring it up, because once, when I was 23, my wife goes, “You know, nobody believes you when you tell them about, like, the first time you were handed to your mother.” And then, the more I thought about it–and also, for about the next three years, asked EVERYBODY if they had those types of memories–I realized she was totally right. And I’ve barely mentioned it to anyone since. I’ve written nearly nothing about it–which is weird for me, because I really WANT to all the time. But . . . I know people really don’t believe it. So I don’t. Anyway . . . good to hear from you!
“.. the coronavirus grounded us all like the angriest dad since Darth Vader…”
Welcome back, John.
If this virus thing came with the voice of James Earl Jones and Joe Biden could elocute like Sir Alec Guinness, we might just popcorn-summer our way into beating it. Instead, it’s photoshopped Bill Pullman and a daily tragedy playing as farce – breaking too many lives wide open. Read the obit of Annie Glenn and let the tears flow – for a century life, ended here.
Glad you are back.
Thank you, buddy.
You’re back! What a lovely surprise, on my twice yearly check of your blog(just in case :)), to find you back at the blogging wheel.
Well, that’s very kind of you, Lynnea! I appreciate it. AND you’ll notice I didn’t hesitate one bit to go IMMEDIATELY into the utter boringness that is straw bale gardening. Because I like to, you know . . . creep up, and THEN get interesting. No use doing your best material at the top of your act, as . . . no one has ever said. But still. Wow. I am super-babbling. So I’ll stop now. But thank you again for your very kind words.
Hi John!
So happy to read you will be blogging again. Over the years, I have wondered about some of your regular posters and how they have been doing. Maybe we will see them reappear and find out. Looking forward to reading your blog again!
AMA
Hi, AMA. Thanks for these kind thoughts. I do hope some of my erstwhile companions here reappear; that’d be fun. I have kept in touch with a lot of those folks, and am happy to report that, to a person, they’re all doing great. I hope to hear from more of them. But . . . I don’t think that’s how the Internet works. I’ve basically been away from blogging for six years. In Internet years, that’s . . . wait, lemme get out my calculator . . . forever. If any of the number of people who used to frequent my online efforts appears here again, I, for one, will be amazed. But we’ll see! You did, after all. And I very much appreciate it.
I’ve kept your blog in Feedly in the hope you’d be back. I didn’t hope in vain. Yay!
Bought your book to read on the plane to Vegas last December, and once I checked into The Flamingo, finished it before going out to gamble.:^)
Welcome back.
Thank you, Bene; it’s nice to be back. I hope you liked “Everywhere She’s Not.” Thanks for keeping me in your Feedly!
I did enjoy it. “Everywhere She’s Not” is a satisfying and thought provoking read.
Blog on!
Hey John, great to have you sharing your gift again!
Thanks, Midnight Dave. (Um . . . can I be Midnight John? Because now I really want to. But right now I’m really more of an . . . Mid-morning Carl.)
I’m so happy to have a way to read you again! “Dear John” just mysteriously disappeared on me and I couldn’t find it anywhere. Psyched to get to read you daily! ….. Terrifying birth memories, btw. Yeah, WTH are doctors thinking holding you upside down in blinding light as your “welcome to life” committee. Makes a water birth sound TONS better and home birth better yet. And yep! This is life …. ain’t it grand?? <3 to you! — Jenny Mc, Atlanta.
Hi, Jenny. Thanks for fun/kind comment. I did write a final/farewell “Ask John,” where I talked about the fact that I was concluding the column. I’ll link to that final column below, if you want to fight the ads on the website of the Asheville Citizen-Times to read it, but . . . here’s the heart of it:
The rest of that column is here.
Yeah, the butt-tap-while-you’re-hanging-upside-down thing. I remember that, too. I felt it, but I didn’t mind it. It’s not like he just started whailing (sp?) on my butt or anything. What I didn’t like about it is that it was BEHIND me. I remember that. I didn’t know what was going on back there.
Being born is so WEIRD. But . . . so is everything that comes after it, basically.
I’m here. Reading on the night shift at a 160-year-old psychiatric hospital. I volunteered for the states disaster medical team’s response to COVID-19. We are filling in for staff who must quarantine. And…well, whatever else needs doing. I was in the first wave of nurses to be recruited, and my fellow shiny agents of the state had to (literally) write a training agenda so that the next batch is not groping QUITE so far in the dark.
God bless you and cover you on your sacred work! Thank you.
Deep blessings!! ~ Jenny
Wow. If you want, Matt, I’ll be happy to publish regular updates from you here on the blog–as blog posts, I mean. We could just call it, “Update from Nurse Matt in St. Louis,” and you could share with us whatever your life has become, if you’d like. Either way, you have all of our love and appreciation for what you’re out there doing, I know, on the daily. Love you, brother.
I was here! 👋🏻
I should say the f*** so.
Hey we did straw bale gardens last year. They grew some excellent marijuana, some great cucumbers and tomatoes and they drew an inordinate number of mice. So although I really enjoyed it I’m not doing it again. Best of luck with yours! Glad you’re back I enjoy your blog.
Hi, Suzie! Thank you for the kind words and encouragement. You grew weed in your straw bales! Do you live where, like, no one could see them?–or . . . is it legal to grow a little weed nowadays?
Anyway, talk about your cash crop. Mice! So, as I understand it, mice will be attracted to straw bales that are allowed to dry out. The deal is (again, this is only what I’ve learned, not what I’ve actually DONE) if you keep your bales properly watered, you simply won’t get mice.
But you must have kept yours watered, cuz you grew stuff. Maybe you let them dry out AFTER you you were nabbed by the fuzz for growin’ the wacky tobaccy? (Sorry about that: I’ve been watching reruns of Dragnet.) The point is: Mice are super cute. Especially stoned ones. That’s been my experience, anyway.
Lol I live in Oregon, pot is totally legal, because we are sane here. Anyhow, the bales did very well, they rot and hold the heat amazingly. The mice came in the late summer/fall, probably our fault because I wanted to let the straw continue to decompose for mulch. I look forward to seeing how your straw bale garden does. I did find that it did well with plant starts, but not seeds. And it grew a hella crop of grass at first, due to the type of bales I sourced, so if you’re does that don’t freak out, just pull out the grass. Best to you.
Oh, really, on the pot thing? It’s so legal you can GROW it, right out in the open? Is there a limit to how many plants you can grow, or how big they can get? Because, isn’t it a thing where you can grow what you can smoke–and then some, but not too much–but if you’re growing enough to clearly be selling, then . . . not so much?
Although you ARE allowed to grow enough to sell to a dispensary, right? If you’ve made that kind of arrangement?
Man. That whole world is so complicated. That whole, “What’s okay with the states isn’t necessarily okay with the Feds” thing is just . . . horrendous. Or, you know–as today we ALL freakin’ know–visa-versa.
Yeah, grass out of the bales! I’ve seen that. Sometimes it seems like it’s just because the people got hay bales instead of straw, but, just as you say, ultimately it doesn’t seem to much matter. If it happens to me, I’ll take your advice, and just pull it out! Love it. Thank you, Suzie.
Well our garden is behind a fence, we aren’t supposed to grow cannabis out in the open and yes for personal use. Or you can register to grow for medical use for other people. It seems so crazy that there are parts of my own country where I could be arrested for what is growing in my garden, or where personal decisions about my own body or how I choose to deal with a terminal illness and end of life decisions are taken away from me and decided by the government. Just a few of the many reasons I love where I live.
Hi John,
I finally finished your book in January, which is when I decided to slow my life down and address some of my issues and try to be a healthier person and all that shit. Finished the book absolutely bawling – as you promised, it was worth the wait. You have a fond place in my heart as someone whose blog helped free me up from the terror of hell I’d been indoctrinated with and I will always be grateful for that. Some people still check our RSS feeds on the daily and I’m happy to see you back in mine. Stay well.
Megan
Hi, Megan. “… and all that shit.” Too funny! And put perfectly well. Hey, thank you very much what you’ve said about my novel. I really appreciate hearing that. And … not to be THAT guy or anything, but, if you’re at all inclined, I’d appreciate you leaving a review of it on Amazon or Goodreads. No worries, obviously, but five-star reviews from readers makes a big difference in the fortunes of a book, and especially a DIY book such as mine.
Anyway, thanks again for being so encouraging. I’m glad to hear that you’re making what sounds like some pretty positive changes in your life. I’m trying to learn to slow down, too. I’m AWFUL at it; but I think I’m getting a little better at it. But NOT FAST ENOUGH! Um. So you see I’ve still got some work to do in that regard.