With all the hoopla surrounding book releases, book signings, book editing, book interviews and, of course, book writing, I often forget one important detail: that my work is making its way in the world and affecting people in very interesting and very important ways.
That fact was brought home recently when I received a moving email from a gentleman who told me “The family I grew up in were racing fans and compulsive gamblers. The only reading material in my house was The Brooklyn Eagle and The Racing Form. Your writing bought it all back in vivid detail, and your love of the sport shines brightly still.”
This man goes on to encapsulate what I was trying to say in
Bug Boy better than I ever could: “For many of us we unknowingly carry a handicap of some kind, often placed there by another, not necessarily a sponge in the nostrils… Yet, we drive for the finish line with all we got.”
And if that was not magical enough, he went on to write a poem about how
Bug Boy reminded him of his own youth as a competitive swimmer. Of course, this is printed with permission.
READING BUG BOY
For eric luper
Bug Boy words on the page
In late Saratoga light,
Are lifted off,
As if ink was ice melting
And no wet left behind,
Eyes turned into Turkish Towels
For the soaking up.
Better still,
More like my first lap, underwater,
Breastroke 200 yard college race,
All the marbles on the line,
Touching the wall for the turn,
Flip over deep inhale
Push off long stretch
Not yet feeling the wet,
On the way home with Jack
And Fireside only seven laps left
The pool my track,
Starting block the starting gate,
Lap their furlong,
Their 1934 my 1959,
Thoroughbreds in flight,
Through water through air,
As one.
Bob Salzman
8/21/09
Thank you, Bob, for reminding me of some very important things. It’s people like you who make this journey worthwhile.