I
had taken a break from writing about music and musicians, but we return,
always, to what is our natural bent, and pretty soon my on-going character,
female musician Sossity Chandler, turns up again. He career is outlined in many
stories I've written on her (some 35 published), from her early, struggling
days to her ascent to fame and super-stardom. A story titled "Walking Man," catches Sossity just after her place as a pop
star is established. She no longer has to worry about money or be anxious about
making it as a musician. But she does have other concerns, and, in this case,
the concerns and her career as a musician are intertwined.
The
title of the story is taken from a song by James Taylor, "Walking
Man," the feature song on an album by the same name. I used to be in a
cover duo that did a lot of songs from that album (and a lot of Taylor songs in
general), "Walking Man" being one of them. It's a fascinating song,
one with a little more substance to it than many popular tunes. It's about a
man who is "moving in silent desperation / Keeping an eye on the holy
land." The character Taylor sketches is someone who lives by a utopian
idealism and never connects with the daily things of life that root us in
community, in the lives of others, in our own identity. Always seeing that
"someone's missing and something's never quite right," he walks
through life missing what is essential because of his idealism.
I
could particularly identify with this because I attended a college that had a
seminary attached to it. So many of the seminarians were what Shakespeare would
have called "precise." They thought everything had to be perfect,
according to their belief system. If a person or an organization held a
different interpretation of the Bible or Christian theology, the seminarians
would reject them. Like the figure in Taylor's song, they breezed through life
"keeping an eye on the holy land" and missing the quotidian joys that
make for human happiness:
Well, the frost in on the pumpkin
and
the hay is in the barn
and
Pappy's gone to rambling on,
stumbling
around drunk down on the farm—
and
the Walking Man walks.
He
doesn't know nothing at all.
Any
other man stops and talks,
but
the walking man walks.
Sossity meets a friend whose tendency toward utopianism has ruined his life, wrecking
his marriage and impoverishing him. Rich McLauflin is an Episcopal priest.
Sossity had come to him for counseling during a particularly rough part of her
life (Sossity is an Episcopalian). His radicalism has destroyed his life.
He lambasted Christians for their materialism, their
lack of concern about the poor and oppressed in the world, and said that if
Jesus came to earth today he would rebuke not sinners but the rank and file of
Christians, the modern Pharisees who risked exile through their neglect of
justice for the oppressed. Completely immersed
in all of this, he had neglected his wife, who drifted away from him; and he
alienated the wealthier, more influential members of his church, who did not
appreciate being equated with Pharisees and King Ahab. He was asked to leave. A week after that, Emily left him for another man.
He
gets a part-time teaching job, is arrested for civil disobedience, engages in affairs
with women in his new radical circle, but eventually drifts back to his old
town and gets a job in a bookstore. He barely scrapes by on what he makes there
and is not able to find a position as a clergyman because of his past behavior.
Sossity invites him to hear her sing at a fundraiser held at his old church.
His
former wife is there. They speak awkwardly. Sossity greets him. Though she says
nothing about his past behavior, she sings the song "Walking Man." He
knows it is a message to him. Reflecting on what he has done, he doubts he
could ever mend his life. But church is a site of grace. He and his wife talk.
He finds out she and the man she took up with have split. She notices the marks
of his poverty. They work together handing out refreshments at the reception
afterwards. At the end, they leave together. There is perhaps a small chance
for reconciliation.
When
writing on religion, or at least bringing religion into a story as a thematic
point, too many writers turn into walking men. They try to evangelize, or, in
the opposite, to vilify religion. But writers need to "tell it
slant," as Emily Dickenson once put it. Grace means a second chance.
Religion runs deep in most peoples' lives in one form or another. When we write
on it, though, we don't need to be "walking" men or women. Religion
works into the everyday rhythms of life. How it does is not usually through
doctrine but through behavior. In many of my stories, religion has been a
theme, but I have approached it "slant."
The
story appeared in a journal called Divine
Dirt Quarterly. A journal by that name exists, but I can't find my story in
the archives, so I think the venue I printed in is defunct and another journal
has taken that name. Reading it after so many years, I was impressed that it was
one of my better stories. I might try to find a new place for it.
We'll see.
For books that will make great Christmas gifts, check out my Writer's Page.
I highly recommend my urban fantasy, ShadowCity. In a dark world, the light within you is all you have.
I would love to hear your comments.
Happy Holidays to everyone.
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