No skeletons. Only gargoyles, chimps, and tacky turtles, Part I

I am exactly the person that will peer through the keyhole, open the box (save for coffins), brush aside the curtain, and eavesdrop. And I admit this without shame. The entire world of journalism (and even bigger world of writing) is built on peeking through the cracks. Where do you think our material comes from? Google? Well, maybe some get it from Google but the great journalists and writers out there are masters at decoding interaction, which is the key to inspiration and the formula for any Pulitzer prize-winning journalism piece or any classic novel. If Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle isn’t a peek through the keyhole, then I don’t know what is.

This week’s Happy Trails was inspired by the opportunity I once had to get a look into the writing room of Amy Tan (The Joy Luck Club). No, I wasn’t hiding in her bushes. I was standing in an aisle at Barnes & Noble about 10 years ago, skipping through the pages of a literary magazine, when I came across a headline that read: INSIDE THE WORLD OF AMY TAN. A writer’s writing room is usually a private place, but Amy Tan opened hers up to the magazine for a quick snapshot and brief explanation of some of the items on her desk, in her drawers, and on her shelves. I read and looked greedily, compelled by my curiosity … cats be damned.

I’m a fair man, though, and I don’t expect to rummage through your closet without you having an opportunity to rummage through mine. Look close and you may even find a skeleton or two. Or maybe not a skeleton but a gargoyle, yes. And why not? Because when there aren’t any skeletons to hide, there be gargoyles close by.

My Great Uncle’s Army-Issue WWII Bayonet

This originally belonged to my uncle (my father’s brother), who kept it in a tool shed at his cottage on Jordan Lake in Wisconsin. Summer after summer, I longed for it, standing in the shed, ogling it up on the pegboard. What a waste, I thought. It should be down here on my hip. For years I harassed my uncle for it because he said he’d give it to me when I was old enough. In enough time, though, I whittled him down, and he gave it to me about 5 years too soon. To this day I wish he hadn’t because I treated it like a toy, and the nicks on its blade are not from military combat but from the combat of a 10-year-old’s imagination. How about that? The bayonet makes it through an entire war without a nick, and at 10, I marred its blade in roughly 5 minutes!

---

Brass Name Tag in Gargoyle Mouth

My interests can lead slightly toward the deranged and macabre (luckily for you, Sun Day reader, in newspapers my interests are fairly mainstream, otherwise you’d be reading a completely different sort of publication), so when my wife saw this novelty in a catalog of other garish novelties, she bought it for me as a Valentine’s gift (of all things!). I loved it. And since it was garish, deranged, and macabre, the first thing I put in its mouth was my old name tag from when I worked in restaurants, a garish, deranged, and macabre industry if I ever saw one.

---

Groucho Marx Plaster Statue

Severely intelligent and quick witted, You Bet Your Life I would employ Groucho Marx to guard a stack of the most recent editions of the Sun Day, which sits on my new credenza. After all, the Sun Day is the very reason, in the words of Groucho Marx, “I worked my way up from nothing to a state of extreme poverty.”

---

Royal No. 10

Hands down this is my prized possession, a 1920s Royal No.10 typewriter given to me by a journalism mentor of mine several years ago as a gift. He thought I’d appreciate it, and I do every day … mainly because it shows me how much harder my job would be without a computer! No doubt about it, if the house was on fire, the old Royal No. 10 is the first thing I’d grab … and probably die trying because it weighs about 100 lbs.

---

Knight’s Head Decanter

I’ve never asked my dad to confirm, but I think my grandfather (his father) had one of the cheesiest collections a man can have: Decorative musical decanters. So far as I know, this knight’s head decanter is the lone survivor of that unfortunate collection. I’m sorry, but in my opinion, whisky and Ave Maria don’t go together.

---

Mister Boffo Cartoon

Although interesting, the hand here is just a note holder I bought at World Market. It’s neat but has no meaning. What it holds is a whole different story. In this Mister Boffo cartoon by Joe Martin, a man is slumped over his desk with its surface contents swiped off and strewn about the floor. A talking bubble proclaims the man’s relief, and the caption at the top reads: “Another way to tell when you’re dealing with someone who’s not going to be finishing the novel anytime soon.” Passive grammar and all, it sits as a warning to me. My mother-in-law gave it to my wife and me years ago; the cartoon is accurate, strewn contents and all.

---

Whale Paperweight

If my writing room had a mascot, this stone paperweight would be it, except it’s more talismanic than that, as I don’t use it to keep paper from blowing away in the wind, but to keep my thoughts from blowing away in my head when I’m writing.

---

Chalk Newsboy Statue

If the Royal Old No. 10 is my most prized possession, this is my most treasured. And as it only weighs a few pounds, it won’t kill me trying to get it out of a burning house. I found it at an antique store in Elburn, and it reminded me of my maternal grandfather who read the paper cover to cover every day for his entire life.

---

Wood Juggling Pins

There’s a greater reason I have these than what I’ll mention here because these juggling pins will be the basis of a future editorial, and I don’t want to give up the goods too soon. I’ll just say that I juggle, and I was once in a circus (and I don’t mean the one at home!). What’s interesting about these is they’re an exact match, although they were bought at different antique stores years apart. I’m still searching for a third to complete the set. Anecdotally, my father used to keep one next to his and my mother’s bed when I was a teenager to use as a club in case of break-ins.

---

Chimp Pen Holder

When I write, I like to monkey around, so who better than to hold my primary writing utensil than a primate?

---

Wood Blocks

My mother bought these for me when I was very little. I’ve kept them around because what was once a child’s toys (not really – they sat high on a shelf in my bedroom away from my reach – the paint on them is surely lead-based) is now a grown man’s writing blocks.

Part II: Tacky turtles and more writing room notions on November 15.

---