I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.

 

Charles Dickens (1812 - 1870), A Christmas Carol (1843)

 

 

As with much of the population, I generally go brain dead the last six weeks of the year, beginning with the advent of Thanksgiving.

From then until just after the New Year, I want to play (not that I don’t throughout the rest of the year); to really be in a festive mood, and soak up that Christmas Spirit.

On the rare occasion, during this time of holiday overload, I may have to actually work, and that just places me in a humbug environment. The last time this happened was some seven Christmases ago when I was doing the Tour de Cuba and didn’t arrive home until Christmas Eve.

It didn’t feel like Christmas then, and it doesn’t feel that way now. In fact, I’m so low-key that I have no desire to put the tree up and all the decorations that go with it throughout the house, which should have been done by now, but I am in a funk; a ho-hum mood.

You would think living in the country near the Sequoia National Park, which is like living in something out of a picture book, humming to the tune of To Grandmother’s House We Go... would do the trick, but alas, no. Not even the fail-safe Christmas carols seem to help.

A touch of the flu probably has something to do with it. This has occurred because I’ve been pushing myself much more than I usually do, and not pacing myself, thus the consequences of being run down.

I’ve been in constant motion since the Summer, dealing with two projects after a seven year self retirement exile. Couldn’t just deal with something small to get me going again and then work my way up to a big event. No... I had to go after two giants that if not for my past background as a seasoned adventurer, would have killed me.

I can’t begin to tell you how many people have told me how insane I was for doing what I’ve done, but now that the major work has passed, I can see what they were talking about. Still, if I had to do over again, I would’ve gone the same route, because when I commit to something, I go all the way with the blinders on, moving forward as swiftly as possible.

The first project began during the Summer when I was in limbo of sorts.

For years, I have heard from people, either in person or through my website, on why I don’t expand my bicycle adventures in book form, as only the condensed version is known to the public.

And for years, I’ve resisted, because writing, after all, is a boring, mundane process and I like to keep active, even if that meant doing charity work for my church and community since retirement.

But every so often, I’d get on the computer and begin to type out the memories as I’d pour over my old notes and charts. Sometimes the process of creativity was fun and at other times... HELP!!!!

Soon, however, the work began to take shape and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I could actually envision what the final result would look like.

Although most people would like the intimate details on the Great Wall of China adventure, (how did you go from factory worker to world wide fame) I was more inclined to begin where I left off, with Cuba. That was an adventure that could stand on it’s own, whereas both the Great Wall and American Summits adventures are intertwined.

I didn’t want just a book, but a work of art. I wanted that book to represent everything I had always enjoyed in a rousing adventure when I was a child. I wanted lots of photos and maps and verbal excitement throughout. I wanted it to be visually stunning.

I also wanted a record of the truth; no holds barred, of what a grueling bike tour in a foreign country was like with all the pain and suffering attached. I didn’t want it to be romanticized like some movie. I wanted an account of the facts, in my own hand, before I got too old to care. A testimony, as if it were a last will.

Last month, I saw the final result. A 368 page, 130 photo-captioned, hardcover tomb, title, Cycling Castro’s Country: The Tour de Cuba, and it was all that I had envisioned and then some.

The book will be out after the New Year, and of course for sale on my website, because if book lovers are like me, you’re going to want a first edition, first printing, autographed copy as a collector’s keepsake.

Thus far, I’ve had good notices about it from those who have already read the adventure. Yes, it does have some surprises not mentioned on the website, but it’s still mild compared to most people’s imaginations, and should do well in sales.

But now I am committed... I began with the third adventure, which means I must now discipline myself to transcribe the other two bike treks. At least, I can tell myself, these books will remain an account of what it was like to lead a grand life long after I’m gone from this earth.

Just as I was involved with the Cuba book, an unexpected, wondrous curve was thrown my way when I was given the chance to star in my first feature film.

About 18 months ago, I had an idea for a story that I had to put down on paper. It was one of those rare times for a writer where I was so overwhelmed by the idea and the characters, I had to lock myself away and write it out, else go mad. It was like giving birth.

Again, like the book, there were things in this story I wanted to see as a film.

I’m a classic, black and white film buff. I love the old films from the 30s, 40s and 50s. I like the way things were done; that you didn’t have to show or explain everything to an audience. I was getting sick of the violence, nudity, swearing and degradation of women. I wanted to see a good, old fashioned courtship story between a man and a woman. I wanted to limit myself to my own code of ethics. I wanted a PG film and not an R rated one.

And I wanted my target audience to be Baby Boomers, Senior Citizens and women.

So, I locked myself away and 10 days later produced a screenplay about a lonely 40-year-old septic tank cleaner who lives with his abusive father, yet yearns to meet a woman to settle down with and raise a family before it’s too late.

I even had the title for the story called, Septic Dreams...

By the time we began the film, the title was changed to, Yesterday’s Dreams, because it was told to me too many times, by too many people, that no one, especially women, would go to see a film, no matter how good it was, with the word Septic in the title.

Between 2003 and 2004, I went about securing my cast; finding a director and a place where we could shoot the film. I never let a little thing like money stop me from my goals. I figure one needs to step out in faith; a working faith, not a blind one, and let God do the rest. He knew where the money was, all I had to do was work out the other details.

By the Summer of this year, it was beginning to fall apart, and thus I was ready to stick the script on the shelf. It wasn’t so bad, I told myself. I have the book to keep me busy.

And then at the last moment, the money was secured, and before I knew what was happening, I was off to Oregon making a movie and wearing three hats in the process... writer, producer, actor.

I had a great cast and crew to work with; a director that was more patient with me than what it was worth, and a setting that lent itself to the story.

Because Hollywood has been wanting to turn my life story into a feature film from the electrocution to the Great Wall of China, we’ve had a struggle of sorts, because I want to play me while the studios want Tom Cruise (if I wasn’t a trained actor, that’d be my choice as well).

Thus, if I were to have to prove myself with the suits, I had to jump into the deep end with blinders on and a lot of prayer behind me.

The last acting I did was on Broadway 20 years ago. Yeah, okay, I was going to be rusty, and film acting is much different than the theatre, but I’ve had the best acting training in the world, and although it’d be a struggle at first, I can swim with the sharks.

I nearly cracked with all the stress and strain that was placed under me, not only as the lead actor in this film, but the writer and producer as well. I worked 18-hour days for a month straight, and could see if I wasn’t well grounded, I’d end up a drugged crazed alcoholic.

But what got me through my adventures, also helped me survive the film. This is what I wanted. This was my proving ground, and I was bound and determined to go all the way with it.

I mean, how many people get an opportunity like this?

As of this writing, I haven’t see the edited version yet, but that will change by month’s end. I already know I’m not going to like myself, but that’s par for the course. I don’t like looking at my own TV interviews, or listening to myself on the radio. It’s just the way I am.

So when I finally do see the film, I’ll have to do so with a closed view... that really isn’t me on that screen. It’s someone else, and I’m just watching a movie like I do any other time...

Yeah, right. And how long is that charade going to last, before I get wrapped up with thoughts like... that’s me up there with all those other actors, saying lines I wrote. This really happened. It isn’t a dream, or some fantasy I conjured up...

But those two projects took their toll and I lasted long enough to make it home before collapsing, and in dire need of rest. That’s probably when this blasted flu happened... when my defenses were down and I wasn’t at my strongest.

But as I am reminded by friends and loved ones... the new year will be a fun one as the fruits of my labor come to fruition. Doing the book signings; attending film premieres...

It’s also one of dread. This is where I’m publically returning to the spotlight I haven’t been in since the last millennia, decade, century (pick your own time length)... How will audiences react? Will I be laughed at and crucified? Or will the public be kind to me as they have been in the past, and I can move into another career(s) I had only dreamed about in the past.

Whichever way it turns out, I do thank God that He allowed me to at least give these new ventures a try; to be able to show what I have and be judged by their merits.

I learned much during my time on the film, and believe it or not, am ready to try it again, although not right away (give me six months at least). I find film fascinating and a lot of fun to be a part of. And I have many other stories I wish to tell. All in good time.

But for now, I need to get this cursed flu demon off my chest (literally) before Christmas this year really does become a Bah! Humbug for me.

 

Until Next Year,