oregon memoir

Letter From a Bonnie and Clyde Reader

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I’d like to share an excerpt from a letter a reader of the Bonnie and Clyde book sent to me this week. Two friends sent the reader the book and I am grateful for that act because this letter deeply touched me and offered fresh insights about the book and its larger story of and institutionalized (and lucrative) inhumanity unique to America. The letter also reminded me how wonderful it is for a writer, any writer, to hear from readers, about where the writer’s words landed. I know I often write to authors whose books have made an impact on me. Typically, you never hear a thing back, but sometimes you do. I encourage everyone out there who loves books to communicate with authors and share your appreciation and insights about the work. Even conflicts or perceived inadequacies with the book can be shared. Most writers don’t want Valentines from readers, at least I don’t. It doesn’t matter if it’s a book, a poem, a painting, a fort, a song, a play, a craft, a grand meal. If the art and artistry moved you, let the maker of that art know.

Dear Matt,

I just finished The Bonnie & Clyde Files at my living room table with Glenn Gould playing the last movement of the Mozart Piano Concerto #24 in C minor playing on my stereo; perfect music for the ending of your book and what may come afterwards: a mixture of mysterious foreboding built into the main theme and throughout the movement, nostalgia for past beauty recently experienced simultaneously with Sturm und Drang on either side..

When I sent you my first email that I was “enjoying” your book, I immediately felt that was an inadequate and inappropriate word to use, although I was mostly thinking at that moment about your adventures with Bonnie & Clyde, the beautiful river sights, the formal structure of your book which is so powerful and profound as it proceeds, and the clarity and concise skill of your perceptions put into words, all of which I continued to admire more and more as I read deeper into the book. I must have been at around page 52 at that time.

Now that I just finished it, reading this afternoon from around page 71 to the end, I have deep emotions and feelings that have very little to do with “enjoyable,” but I can still admire the climax you so skillfully brought towards the end, like a dramatic symphony that both recapitulates itself and goes beyond what has come before to leave the listener, here reader, with its ending, at a peak of emotional, intellectual, and spiritual intensity that only resolves itself through a vow to continue onward as a more informed spiritual human being, much more aware of injustices and atrocities occurring in our natural and social environment, determined to take actions, or adopt appropriate inactions, to make our beautiful miraculous world a better place—I can say this of few books I’ve ever read, but know your are a true brother in spirit along with Walt (Whitman) and Hesse.

The Bonnie and Clyde Files: How Two Senior Dogs Saved a Middle Aged Man

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Dear Friends:

I invite you to support my latest literary endeavor and help return me to a life of letters and service. The new book is called The Bonnie and Clyde Files: How Two Senior Dogs Saved a Middle Aged Man.

It goes something like this:

In 2017, at the age of 53, I experienced an extinction of self. For the first time in my life, I could not get a job, I was nearly broke, and I had no freedom of movement or conscience. I was an American outcast trapped in a labyrinth known as probation, desperately engaged in the ultimate struggle to stave off marginalization. There I was, lying on the couch, talking to my dead husky, words echoing through the house that was empty because I had performed terrible hospice care on myself and given away almost everything.

Then I found two senior dogs named Bonnie and Clyde, residents of Angels for Sara (dog) Sanctuary, a refuge along the Lewis and Clark River. There, walking two dogs, I resurrected as a human being. I read the river, tracked elk, watched birds, slayed blackberries, skipped rocks, cursed clearcuts, walked in rain and went deep into heretofore unknown areas of my creative mind. With Bonnie and Clyde at my side, I learned important lessons of faith, friendship, family, face-to-face encounters and the timeless remedy of nature, lessons I intuit can enlighten others who experience a cataclysmic personal event. In The Bonnie and Clyde Files, I merge essay, cultural criticism, memoir, streams of consciousness and poetry to create a hybrid of a genre that is unlike any dog book I have ever read. I wrote on instinct, channeled Walt Whitman, and became a dog to better explore humanity, my country and the treatment of men and women at the hands of the state’s criminal justice system. I wrote to understand all the terrible, bizarre and wonderful things that were happening to me.

Please support me by purchasing The Bonnie and Clyde Files direct from Nestucca Spit Press, scheduled for release in the fall of 2018. The book will be unavailable in stores. A special limited print edition of 300 copies, signed by the author (and dogs), is now selling for $30 (plus shipping). A handmade bookmark will be included. Half of the profits are earmarked for the Angels for Sara Sanctuary to continue their excellent work. Customers can order through this blog and use Paypal or make other arrangements for payment by contacting me via email or through the Nestucca Spit Press web site. Barter is also accepted.

I thank you from the bottom of heart. I know I still have good work to do and this is just the beginning.

Bonnie and Clyde Files 44 (Book Launch!)

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(Friends: today marks the launch for the sale of my forthcoming book, The Bonnie and Clyde Files: How Two Senior Saved a Middle Aged Man. Only 300 copies will be sold and it won’t be available in book stores. For more information and how to order, got to nestuccaspitpress.com or order here from the blog. Half of the profits are earmarked for the Angels for Sara Sanctuary to continue their excellent work. Please support me in this new editorial endeavor as I get back in the game of life, literature and service. Enjoy an excerpt from the book below:)

I parked my car in the parking lot of the Angels for Sara Sanctuary and got out. I heard a cacophony of barking coming from inside the house. A fit woman in her sixties appeared and introduced herself as Jacque. We shook hands and I introduced myself. I either looked invisible or a hundred years old. I handed over my volunteer form and she led me to the front door. The cacophony increased; the house shook. I entered the house and beheld dogs barking and prancing and singing. On the wall, a large flatscreen monitor played dog cartoons. Jacque gave me a tour of the house and I noticed multiple gates and partitions to sequester dogs for eating, sleeping, medical issues and hanging out. It wasn’t for everyone, perhaps not even me, but I smiled because I had met someone that it was for, and that she should be President of the United States of America.

Jacque sat in a recliner and I sat on a couch. Four or five small dogs jumped up on the arms and back of the couch. Another sat beside me. She introduced them. The two largest dogs, one black, a retriever mix, the other tan, a shepherd mix, came over and sat up in front of me. I met Bonnie and Clyde.

It felt like an interview, but not from a human resources department.

For the first time in my life, I sensed I was receiving a telepathic message, from one of the dogs surrounding me. I couldn’t discern which one, nor divine the message. I tried sending a telepathic message to the unknown dog. It was sort of like a First Contact from Star Trek. Nothing returned to me.

“How can I help you?” I said to Jacque.

“It would be great if you could come over and walk Bonnie and Clyde,” she said. “The house is a lot calmer if they get some exercise, relax, and don’t run over the smaller dogs.”

“That sounds great,” I said. “When do I start?”

“How about right now?”

“Sure.”

We went outside into the fenced back yard. Bonnie and Clyde followed. I saw the river, trees, blackberries, birds, pastures, hills, cattle, clearcuts.

A light rain began to fall. Neither one of us mentioned it. Jacque opened the gate and ushered Bonnie and Clyde out. I followed.

Jacque led us along until the trail sloped down the bank and met the river. We stopped there and Bonnie and Clyde walked into the water and started drinking. I surveyed with all my senses.

I didn’t say anything. I no longer recall how long I surveyed. It might have been five or ten minutes.

Jacque broke the spell. She said this spot was as far as Bonnie and Clyde should go. I was fine with that. This was good ground, I thought. A squad could make a formidable stand against an overpowering enemy here. Perhaps one man against an invisible enemy could, too. I also thought: this might be an interesting place to write. I’d never written near a river before. What would I write? Who am I? Do I even exist?