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I’ve been struggling lately. It has been reflected in my writing schedule as reflected by an almost month-long gap posting on this Hot White Snow blog. I’ve written less on my own web page as well, and I can’t remember the last time I wrote on The Dake Page. My current book projects are starting to sprout weeds due to a combination of a heavy travel schedule and some unforeseen psychological trials.
This latter aspect became acute a couple of weeks ago. My father fell and broke his collarbone two days before my long-planned drive to Massachusetts and Maine to visit family and get some R&R. I had postponed a different road trip and presentation in April to drive instead to Massachusetts when he fell and broke his hip. At 91, this has become an uncomfortably common occurrence. On that visit, and the current one, I never saw him at home; he was in hospitals and rehabilitation facilities during my entire stay. He is still there as I write this over two weeks from his latest fall, although the hope is he can move home this Friday.
While staying at my parents’ place keeping my mother company I found out that William Terbo had passed away. Terbo is the grandnephew of Nikola Tesla, the topic of my first published book. I had met Terbo a few years back and he was complimentary of my efforts to inform more people about Tesla. I bragged that I had shook the hand of a man who had shook the hand of Nikola Tesla himself (Terbo had at ten years old met his granduncle). Now he was gone.
But that, it turns out, was merely a preamble to another more profound death. As I wrote on Science Traveler, John Elliff had just completed his term as President of the Lincoln Group of DC. I looked up to him as the proverbial scholar and gentleman in all ways. I wrote about him a few days after his sudden passing and find that two weeks later I am still intensely moved. Because of my own father’s situation I wasn’t able to make it back to DC in time for his funeral, and I still feel at a loss. John was a mentor, a friend, and, in a way, a father figure. I’m still struggling with his sudden departure. This has become especially evident as I begin to address Lincoln Group issues. John was to be our October dinner speaker, a chapter contributor for a book we’re developing, and as past-president, a sage adviser to the new board. He was also our font of knowledge in the monthly book discussion group. As all of these voids hit me, my sense of loss intensifies.
Add in Aretha Franklin, John McCain, and other notables, plus some non-death related stressors, and its been a rough stretch.
So I need to get back on track. Last night I juggled for the first time in two weeks; I had been doing it nightly as a way to destress and focus. I’m writing this post, which I hope will get my thought processes working again. Shortly I’ll be flying out to the Pacific Northwest for a long road trip beginning at Crater Lake and ending at Glacier National Park. Fires are currently limiting access to both areas, as well as along the Columbia River gorge, so my fingers are crossed that we’ll still manage the experiences we originally anticipated when the idea for the trip arose. After that we get a travel break. The break is needed as the last three months have essentially been non-stop. It won’t be a total moratorium and the expectation is there will be one or two or three short trips, perhaps to Chicago, Charleston, and New York City. But the main goal is to get my writing back into gear, especially since I have three books “in the works,” none of which has seen much ink lately.
So the struggling will continue for a while. I’m playing tour guide today and chauffeur the end of the week, followed by the Northwest trip and final planning for a busy travel season spanning mid-November to nearly Christmas (including Thanksgiving with my family, hopefully at home and not in a hospital). Somehow through all this I need to find a way to write productively while traveling. And with that, I must get going.
Mike drop.
David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.
Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!
Hot White Snow 
Sorry to hear about your dad — I hope he’s on the mend soon. Nice time of year to visit the PNW — enjoy!
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Thanks. He had a quadruple bypass when he was 85 and never quite got back to his pre-surgery vigor. The last couple of years have been a struggle, but he’s a tough guy.
Hoping the fires stop. Seem to be in the beginning, middle, and end.
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I understand. Just after I started writing here, I very suddenly and unexpectedly lost one of my closest and most dear friends, who was also my husband’s long time best friend. Looking back at my writing, I can see how much it hung over me. Now, I’m watching my mom slowly disappear.
When I was nineteen-years old, I wrote something for a class called, “A Room in our House has Disappeared”. It was about the death of my grandfather, my father’s father. I hardly knew him at all, but it was surprising how much it affected my perceptions of the social “space” in which I existed. It felt like my domain had suddenly become smaller; a connection to some unseen past and all of its stories had disappeared from my universe.
Since then, I’ve watched my elder family vanish before my eyes, one-by-one. My mom is the only one remaining with whom I have any direct relationship. As her memories fade away, there will be no one left to remember where I came from. The ancient Gods and Goddesses fade from our lives, and then we’re simply left behind to figure out our own stories.
I wish you and your family well.
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I’ve been blessed with two active and long-lived parents (and a grandmother that lived to 102). Both were incredibly vigorous well into their 80s. After my Dad’s heart surgery at 85 he slowed down considerably, and now at 91 he’s fading physically and to a lesser degree mentally. Even my Mom has had more health issues lately, and it is she that cares for my Dad largely alone in between hospital/rehab stays.
Thanks for your insights on your family and your friend. I’ve been lucky to have my parents for so long. As for my Lincoln colleague, I don’t generally get that attached to people, but his sudden passing has been difficult for me to grasp. Perhaps with everything else going on in the world I’ve developed a sense of being chronically overwhelmed. Maybe I need one of those weeks in the forest or something. Or maybe I need to focus on writing my own story as you suggest.
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Just a suggestion, but I think there’s a great deal to be said for an occasional “disconnect”. You might be surprised at the freedom from stress over things one mostly can’t do anything about anyway. Travel certainly seems to work better that way.
I’ve always thought that if I need a reset, I’ll leave my phone in my office roll top and lease a room in an upper floor of the Oswego Hotel in Victoria. When you hear back from me, I’ll have written my story.
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I like the idea of disconnecting; I’m just not very good at it. I purposely didn’t get the internet access when I was on the yacht cruise in the Baltics, and I’ll also skip it on the upcoming HK-Singapore trip. I’ll need to disconnect more when I have access to my computer for writing.
Unfortunately, I think I care too much to avoid stressing over things I can’t do anything about. I always have the sense that I CAN do something, even though my introversion keeps me from being an activist. The dichotomy (or maybe its paradox, or pathology) of my life is that I keep taking on responsibility to lead even though I desperately try to avoid leadership responsibility.
Would love to hear your story. 🙂
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I hope that the travel is the ticket for you.
For me, I can tell that something is wrong when I start to lose concentration by 10 AM. Then either exercise or manual labor has been successful. That can become habitual.
I was a caregiver about 30% since about 2010. That was just something I eased into. Then at some stage it stops and one feels a bit empty. For that I need productive work and a sense of purpose…..at least a little.
Peace.
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Thanks, estabang. I can’t use the “lose concentration by 10 AM” metric since I spend my entire day trying to rein in my concentration, but definitely the idea of exercise and/or labor seem to work. Now all I have to do is concentrate on doing it more regularly.
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