Category Archives: Ruminations

Wrigley.

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This was one of the happiest days of my life, Wrigley and I in Glacier National Park, June 2019. I can still remember the young black bears playing in the meadow, the scent of wild grass, and the roar of a spring waterfall.

One year ago today, Wrigley died on my lap after being at my side for 12.7 years. Many of you became followers of this page BECAUSE of Wrigley and his unique personality. He’s more popular than I am, haha.

I rescued him from the Chicago pound, along with my good friend Sarah. As we were driving home with him peeking out of his cardboard box, I knew I’d found something very unique. An original.

Since he passed, I have not been able to stick between four walls for long. I’m constantly moving, driving, hiking, taking photographs, writing, traveling, working out, dating. I’m a shark that cannot stop swimming. I have no idea what a couch is. It’s been one heck of a rush, that’s for sure. I’ve been running, I think. Because I know, as soon as I settle down, I’ll have to face what happened. And to face it in a quiet room.

What started out as an adventure with Wrigley in the national parks and forests turned into something else. A way of life, perhaps. A spinning compass of an existence.

Wrigley. You were there at my feet for the start of my writing career, there camping with me under the stars in Glacier National Park. There for me when I didn’t feel so great, always with a smirk on your face.

We did it all. Hollywood to Redwood, Shasta to Glacier. Chicago to Missoula. We were free. Each morning brimming with possibilities.

Perhaps the thing I dread most is settling into some mundane suburb and firing up the laptop to work on a novel. And waiting for the guaranteed noise of you knocking things off the counter. Or unexpectedly biting my toe as I write. And that noise won’t come. And that will break my heart.

Again.

But maybe, just maybe I’ll head to the local pound on that day.

I’ll never forget you.

Facebook, Montana, writing.

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Hey folks. So, my Facebook page seems to be taking on a life of its own. Over the years, I’ve come to realize that social media is its own art form, just like writing is, or photography. And it’s best to respect that, and not just use it as a place just to slap up your book covers 24/7.

I’ve been invited to Facebook’s fan subscription program. This is a feature where fans can sign up to receive excusive content. You can sign up here.

On the writing front, I’m working hard on a new novel and screenplay. I was supposed to move to the west coast, but I like the fact that gyms (amongst other things) are open here, so I’m in a holding pattern. I love Montana, and don’t really want to leave but honestly it’s been paradise. And I’d like to get my head buried in my laptop for several new novels.

Sunset in western Montana.

Montana eagle, the holidays.

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Life has many surprises, many side roads that lead to adventure and new opportunities.

My time in Montana has been something else, a dream molting into a dream into a dream.

I’ve been writing a lot here in Missoula. Specifically a screenplay and a new novel I’m excited about. Hope you all are having a good weekend, and a fine holiday season. – Michael

A bald eagle on the Montana prairie.

Running Eagle Falls and snippet from my short story collection.

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A snippet from my short story “Fletcher’s Mountains” from my collection, “The Gloaming”:

Fletcher had seen wolf packs disappear between robust trunks of aspen and pine. He’d seen rare grizzly bears amble into bogs. He once watched Enders climb a ridge as if assisted by wings. He’d vanished over the crest like it was nothing.

The watch stopped.

Fletcher looked up from the stove, gazing upon the forest. So still. Much of the world is now, too. Winter has a way of making you see right. The icy crust under the snow squeezes the earth clean. We’ve needed that for a long time now, he supposed.

Enders always knew that.”

Facebook Fan Subscription.

Running Eagle Falls, or “Trick Falls” in Glacier National Park.

The storm eagle.

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A couple years back, I was sitting on a cliff and watching a storm roll in over the Bitterroot mountains. As the storm shook the forest canopy, this eagle surged from the dark clouds, right towards me.

Looking back, I was reminded of a few things. Like how my parents raised my sister and I. We were taught to venture out into the world, to carve a unique identity for ourselves, to become our own people. Our autonomous independence was respected…and personal growth encouraged. This was, perhaps, the greatest lesson from my parents. If you truly love something, you don’t try to control it. You let the person blossom organically.

And I think back to that evening in the Bitterroot Mountains, and that powerful storm, and the eagle. And now I know.

A healthy eagle flies far from the nest.