I usually write these missives on Sunday. It's my down day for the week and my mind is free to wander. But Calene and I spent the weekend in San Diego, hanging out with our oldest son to celebrate his birthday. There was no agenda. We wandered the waterfront to start the morning, stopping to tour the USS Midway, something I suggested because I'm writing a book about the Battle of Midway and the visit felt like a fine symbolic gesture. I also thought it was a great way to kill an hour or so.
A significant portion of the ship is now dedicated to a museum-within-a-museum about the battle. There's a film showing actual battle footage. A docent introduced the 20-minute documentary by saying he'd read almost every book there is about Midway. This is not something a writer wants to hear in the middle of a project on the exact same topic, because you never know what kind of reader someone might be. Some are self-proclaimed experts. Some are more fond of academic history, some like the story told the same way every time, and some harbor a personal connection with the story and have a book of their own in the back of their mind.
The docent seemed like a nice enough guy and the footage was vivid so I forgot about Taking Midway and enjoyed the show. My book doesn't come out for a year, giving me plenty of time to steel myself for those who find my telling of the Midway saga unconventional. I mean, it's obviously the same history but I'm having fun looking at the narrative through a different lens.
So we left Midway and enjoyed a Double Delicious in the sun at the Stone beer garden next to the train station. Then we walked some more and suddenly all thoughts of stealing back to the hotel to write a blog were forgotten. It intruded on my thoughts for a second, suggesting I could tap it out with my thumbs on my phone. I told the blog to go away because it felt nice to have a day without responsibility.
We walked some more and laughed and reminisced and did all the things you do with people you love on a day with no agenda. A waiter at the lunch place brought out a bottle of De La Viuda hot sauce when I told him I'd like my buffalo wrap spicy. I had never heard of it but took a picture on my phone because it had a nice kick.
Then we walked through Little Italy, where spring break crowds made the sidewalks full.
A stop at Bolt, where Devin did some sort of magic with his phone app that allowed him to control the jukebox.
People watching. Many bad jokes. An occasional moment of frank discussion.
Then an after-dark Uber back to the Pendry, where the bar was filled with conventioneers in smart clothes with big smiles and bigger drinks, by which time it was far too late to write a blog post on a day when nothing happened.