I’m writing you from Brooklyn, New York, where I’m visiting my kid. Things are strange here compared to the suburbs of Lansing, but the basics still work fine. Smile at someone’s dog as they walk by and you get a smile back, either from the dog or the walker. Say hello and they’ll smile and nod, or maybe even greet you (the walker, that is). Fart in a crowded subway and you’ll probably get away with it. Nature finds a way.
I also spent the weekend with college friends in Connecticut. The comfort of long-familiar faces, catching up, and forty-year old inside jokes brings joy. I also had a great idea for a story to tell at an upcoming Moth StorySLAM.
The topic for the Moth is “baggage” and I immediately thought of lots of heavy stuff about growing up with a dad who, like the Incredible Hulk, could transform at the slightest provocation from mild-mannered engineer to an angry guy looking for a fight. I also thought about the burden he carried watching his parents die, dealing with my mom’s dementia, and his own cancer. That’s a lot of baggage. Especially that I now have cancer of my own I thought, flip the maudlin switch to eleven and let’s make everyone sad.
While tagging along as my friends walked their dogs, we discussed the various techniques for picking up dog poop, vented about people who don’t, and the roll of dog-poop bags resonated with me. I realized I could probably do the Moth story about poop bags.
My Super Power is Scooping Poop
I’ve been picking up dog poop since the age of six. Those early years, I hated it but our dad was pretty insistent that we do it. He also taught me everything I know about picking up dog poop.
He didn’t like the shovel technique as it often left too much residue behind on the grass. “Put a bag and your hand and grab it,” he said. “Get down there and make sure you get it all.” We’d have a flip-top sandwich bag for the grip, and an old bread bag for the collection.
Eventually, I took to his advice. To get a good grip, I squat down low, which helps work the hamstrings and quads. Using my hands, it’s fast and efficient. I’ve also developed a keen eye for turds in the lawn. It’s not my entire legacy from my father, but it’s a big part.
So that will be a big part of the story I tell at the Moth. Maybe I won’t get selected, which will mean you folks reading this Picayune will be among the only folks on earth to hear this story.
You’re welcome.
I also spend a fair amount of time scooping kitty litter
Meanwhile, at My Writing Desk…
I haven’t done much the past couple of weeks thanks to various busyness and this trip. I’m not upset. I’m calculating that I need a break from my regular writing routine. Like how taking a walk with friends reminded me of a weird story about dog poop, this break may lead to a great idea for the current novel, or one of the next ones.
At least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Maybe You’d Like
I didn’t have time to pull together a thing of books for you, so I apologize to those of you who look for that feature. Next time for sure.
Recommended Reading
I’m still reading Beloved by Toni Morrison, and I think y’all should too.
Next Picayune
I’ll be on another trip in two weeks but I should have time to write the Picayune before and have it all scheduled nice and pretty for you. Until then, thanks for reading the Mickey Picayune.
All the best,
Mickey
P.S. If you’re itching for a link to a book, here are my books, with something for everyone who likes Thriller, Dystopian Sci-Fi, or RomComs. https://mickeyhadick.com/my-books/