I sometimes wish that my teachers, when I was an undergraduate, had paid attention to what appeared to be my talents and pushed me in what to them may have been unconventional directions. Maybe everyone wishes this.

For example, I might have teamed up with an artist and written children’s books. A book called Digging a Hole to China made me think about this – for this was something that I thought about a great deal.

And in recent years, I wondered why no one suggested or even thought about my doing an internship at Boyton/Cook Heineman in Portsmouth, NH. They were then publishing books on my area of interest, the composing process of writers.

Instead, the only option I or they saw was getting a mainstream journalism job. And there were other options, like writing for equine publications.

So I have dug my own hole and climbed down into it. I am now working for a nonprofit that is much like what Washboard Willy was doing at the Alaska State Fair – playing many instruments by myself. And Washboard, no one really took him as seriously as they did bands with multiple members.

All this came to mind tonight as I stood in the rear of the Palmer Train Depot – too late to get a table, too late to find anyone to pal out with. Too late to join the inner circle which is something that I will never be a part of.

I have enjoyed getting books into the hands of appreciative readers. I have not enjoyed getting books into the hands of unappreciative readers. Like today, a woman came by and claimed two books that I set aside for her. Didn’t offer to make a donation – just took the books and left the former banquet room of the historic Eagle Hotel. I try not to focus on them and instead on the appreciative readers, but this is often difficult.

And seeing the Palmer Inner Circle, all gathered under one roof – the reality hit me. I will never be a part of it. Palmer may be a crossroads for books, but it is not a town that celebrates this.

So tomorrow, I will most likely wake up and resume digging the hole because the shovel will be handy as will be on my part, the strength to resume digging.

And where am I going to end up? This is very good question, and one that I often ask myself. My forays into the horse world led to absolutely nothing – I now have three mares, one of whom is retired and two of whom are semi-retired. You can’t go back in time. This is yet another one of life’s greatest unfairnesses.

I think that the hole will lead to China. I will get there and be unable to speak Chinese. Perhaps they will hand me a Mandarin orange and dictionary.

New frontiers await. This is what I am being told, from someone who is standing at the entrance to the hole I have dug. My response is an expletive, although I am so deep into it that my response cannot be heard.

Next: 259. 9/26/25: Once Again, Darkness Descends