Scene One – GLAZED DONUT – Heights Restaurant, Madison, Wisconsin, April 2019
French press, dark roast coffee nips my tongue. China cup clinks the saucer below. Brazil roast did she say? A barista brings a scone, butter, and cloth napkin. I dunk a blackberry, lime scone into my coffee and recall my first dunked donut.
Scene One – 400 West Lincoln Avenue, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, May 1949
“Hush, child, you’ll wake the chickens.” Mokey tugs my hand. The spring-hinged, pine planked door closes silently behind us. Moonlight yields to animal darkness. Squawk, the monsters perched above me warn of our intrusion into their fertile solitude.
I’m a starter. When I read, I place a bookmark where I’ve left off. “I’ll finish later,” I tell myself. Sometimes I do. Often I don’t. Bookmarks wag from my unfinished reading like my first grade teacher’s tongue when she admonished, “Tisk, tisk, Richard, put some gasoline in your tank.” I wish I had my current wisdom back then to tell Mrs. Higgins, “I love the rush of a new idea. My work will be completed in it’s own time.”
As a writer and musician, I need ideas to create original writing and music. I search for ideas that ignite the creative process. Other times I am blessed when ideas materialize as a result of my creative work.
The Wisconsin River flows 420 miles from north central Wisconsin southwest to merge with the Mississippi River at Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin. At river’s mouth, she disgorges 12,000 cubic feet of water per second, which is equivalent to the capacity of eight Olympic size swimming pools every minute. The river originates in pine forests and meanders through hardwoods, cities, farmland, sandstone bluffs, and prairies before she reaches her destination. Such a significant river must have flowed in the past as she does today.
About the Author
I write personal essays, creative non-fiction, flash fiction, and self-development articles from my home in Madison, Wisconsin.