And Then What Happens? [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Once upon a time…

And then what happens?

It was sunny and bright at the beginning of our long drive. Little did we know that a few hours later we’d be stuck on the freeway, standing completely still in an endless construction delay, with tornado warnings blaring on our phone: “Get into the basement or a safe place now!” What do you do when there is no safe place? What happened next?

We have a good chuckle at the expense of Google Maps. It wants to be a soothsayer. It wants to tell us what’s coming, what’s in our future. “There are police ahead.” Or, “There’s road construction ahead.” Usually, GM tells us about the construction when we’re already in it. “There’s a lane closed ahead!” GM warns.

“No kidding,” we respond.

“It’s a 14 minute delay,” she chirps. An hour later, traffic at a standstill, Kerri says, “I don’t like the look of those clouds.” The sky darkens and bubbles. And then what happens?

In the little village we walked by the door of a psychic. The sign read, “Tarot Readings”. I admit that I was tempted to go in. I’m always tempted. Who doesn’t want to have some sense of what is about to happen?

On our long drive we talked about our careers. Artist’s careers are not like plumbers or lawyers. It is possible to be artistically successful and financially unsuccessful. The same cannot be said for accountants or electricians. When I was running theatre companies I regularly reminded hardworking-yet-disheartened actors that, according to the union that represented them, less than 2% of the membership actually made a living acting. The same cannot be said of the machinist’s union or the teamsters. Artistry is not a business, it’s more akin to a service-calling. It’s not for the weak of heart. It’s not for those who worship the idols of stability and consistency. “There’s a silver lining,” she said. “We’re probably better prepared than most people for dealing with uncertainty.”

We managed to get off the freeway before the storm hit. Sitting in the parking lot of a gas station we wondered what to do. We were still hours from our destination. The rain started gently but soon became a downpour, driven by gusts. Buckets of rain with attitude. The truck jolted with each blast. “Well?” she asked, “What now?

“Life’s like a novel with the end ripped out…” Lyric from STAND, sung by Rascal Flatts

read Kerri’s blogpost about UNCERTAINTY

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Uncover The Story [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

Cleaning out, for Kerri, has been like an archeological-story-dig of her life. I am a relative newcomer to the house and came with a truckload of paintings and not much else, so we are mostly excavating her life before me. Sometimes there is a gasp. Sometimes hysterical laughter. Sometimes I know she has found something important because of the profound silence. Sometimes there are tears.

Always there are stories. Treasured stories. Memories stirred by the simplest of finds, a shirt, a cassette tape, a teething ring.

I am the lucky recipient of her story-archeology and delight every time I hear her say, “Come look at this.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TEETHING RING

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buymeacoffee is a story opportunity just waiting for you to say, “once upon a time…”