The gadabout letters
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| THE GADABOUT LETTERS
Highway Insights & Life-like Correspondence Letters 2000 - 2005 Leonard Treadway Foreword I had a job one summer working on Purgatory Mountain near Durango, Colorado, in the southwest corner of the state. I was hired on as an aprentice carpenter, and helped install new wood finishes on the boardwalk lamp posts and hammered new stairs into place on the outside of the new ski patrol shack at the crest of the highest peak. But one day when I saw them tie off the rock climbing ropes at one end to a couple of nineteen-sixties model pickup trucks, and us, the carpenters, at the other end, and send us up onto the roof of the new patrol shack, I had my doubts. The mountain peak on its own reached over 14,000 feet above sea level. On top of that sat the new four story patrol shack. On top of the new patrol shack, then, stood us, the carpenters, ropped to the pickup trucks. We were all just a couple of kids rolling out tar paper, tacking it into the plywoodÑthe sometimes very wet plywood, as the snowfalls still in July at 14,000 feetÑfor ten dollars an hour. I was coming down for lunch one afternoon and the thirty foot aluminum ladder jolted violently, probably slipping off some faulty rock footing it had, and I thought I was falling to my death. That was it for me, I told the foreman, the view up there is next to heaven I think, but I'm not climbing back up that ladder again. Get the pros to do that job, that's just too damn high for me. So I was demoted to mason and was sent down to the middle of the mountain somewhere to lay down these sandy orange bricks all day with a crew of reckless mobsters and one master mason pointing his fingers everywhere and stretching long kite string seventy-five feet across the ground getting the whole operation just as linear as could be. It didnt feel like a lessening in status to me, I showed up in the morning and had coffee with the Mexicans and the Indians and the college kid from Portland, then went to work, kneeling down in the soft smooth sand, placing down those hexagonal sculptures that came on pallets, day after day. We'd lay out a whole eighteen wheeler shipment and step back feeling sunburnt, stiff and greatly accomplished about our work. Those thousands of bricks running like a Kentucky fencepost up and down the little grades of the mountain, and the whole thing was held together and made possible by two things, I thought, gravity and sand. The indians liked it the most, they talked and joked to eachother and slapped eachother on the back. I just looked over at them a lot when I wasn't in on the joke and nodded and laughed with them. I liked the Indians the most that summer, they were always in a good mood and funny and easy to get along with. The kid from Portland I think missed his girl, but she was always coming up for the weekends, so even that was alright in the end. Most days I could feel the southwest sun warming my back through the military surplus wool field jacket I'd wear all day long in the clean and high altitude summer air. Going down the rows, I'd make up poems in my head like Brick Layer Poet and write them in a notebook over lunch. I didn't write too many letters that summer, but the letters that make up this collection are like the sand that held together and eventually became the foundation of our enormuos masonry undertaking. I'm sure all that sand and brick is still there, with thousands of folks walking over it every week, but none of them I'd guess ever even wonder about the bricks, let alone the sand between them. But it's the sand between the bricks they that allows for the continuous nature of the walkway to exist. Without the sand, the bricks would end up chipped and jagged, or sink deep into the earth underneath. The folks in summer sandles might trip or stub their toe. Some of these letters stand on their own. Some read well as a continuum, or insight, or sequil to other poems and stories I've written and appear in other books. This book of letters is the B-side to those poems and stories. It's full of what might have otherwise ended up on the so-called cutting room floor. Some of them can get rather personal as they were all written to friends and family. I hope no one is offended, but know that the letters are all read and thought about in their genuine honesty and humor. Leonard Treadway Dear Beloved Reader of The Gadabout Letters,
Wilderness begins in the human mind. ―Edward Abbey, Notes From A Secret Journal THE GADABOUT LETTERS From: Leonard Treadway Sent: December 04, 2005 11:53 AM To: The publishers of "Big City Freight Train Blues Denver Poems" Subject: RE: The Plan Hello, OK, good. I think we should keep an open dialogue as well. I have been busier in the past year than I have probably ever been, other than when I was at the Art Institute of Chicago all day and then working at a production house at night (but that's neither here nor there, as they say). I have not been able to do much other than what I have going here at the University along with my personal work that I always have had going. I do plan to start scheduling readings for myself, just not right now. I know that will generate sales. I have gotten in with the Colorado Poets Association, and have been involved with the Academy of American Poets for some time now, but I think having a regular local reading schedule would do us all well. I also contacted the festival in Salida but have not heard anything back from them. (I saw 270 "new/used" copies of Big City Freight Train Blues on Amazon.com or something the other day... have those all sold?) I guess the difference here is that I am much more interested in having my work juried, as opposed to it (the work) making money. That's pretty much how I have always felt. (Jack London is often harshly criticized for living a life of luxury in San Francisco.) Thanks for sending my book in to the Pushcart, also. I appreciate that. After the wedding in December, and after I find out in Feb/March where I will be for my Ph.D. work (very well may be University of Denver), I will feel more settled. I applied to two Creative Writing departments, and if I am accepted into one of those (as opposed to the two media studies departments I also applied to) my creative non-fiction/poetry writing will take a precedence over the media studies, and, therefor, I will start scheduling some readings around the state. If I start into one of the Media Studies departments, I will have to put the creative writing aside somewhat, except for the new book of poems I have just finished and the novel which is going really well. I am excited to find these two works a home at a publishing house. Actually, the novel is ten years (the past ten years) of my life, traveling around, and all the people, places, etc. Then there is (so far!) a 570 page manuscript of all the letters I've written to people during that time. I think someone might find that to be of interest, from a marketing perspective. (I am not dropping hints, I just feel like typing right now!) : ) A novel account of a life in narrative form goes out and people like it, read it, buy it, talk about it, etc. Then, one year later, the same company puts out the companion to the novel: a lengthy collection of personal letters written by the author of the novel. Wamo. Actually I am just excited about these three books. Anyway, my point is that because I love both avenues (creative writing and media studies) and have strong skills in both, and find it hard to decide on which route to take, I am, to an extent, letting these Ph.D. jury boards decide in which of the two fields they think the stronger of my strengths lie. It is a process of getting "opinions" and advice from seasoned pros. Its not that I will stop writing creatively, ever, its just that there is far too much to write about, and I need some parameters around which to focus an up-an-coming faculty career. OK, that's all I have for now. Nice to hear from you. Leonard
From: Leonard Treadway Sent: Thursday, November 03, 2005 11:03 AM To: 'Samuel Bartlette; LL Bomber Subject: RE: Letter to the Editor Howdy, Sailors, As for accommodations, the Alcott would be most convenient if the cost isn’t too high since the ceremony and reception will be held there, and because everything in town is right there within a few blocks, including the ocean. However if you feel like finding a less costly room, check out some of those other options on the list I sent out. Most of them I believe are within a few blocks of the Alcott. (in some email clients those links should click to a mapquest or yahoo map as well.) In December, it's been said, little Cape May can be rightfully likened to our famed Desolation Row, so have some fun with it. I think we roll in on Wednesday and have some preparations to do Thursday evening (ie dinner for her family to meet mine out somewhere), then Friday is the day, Saturday is a casual coffee and art sale at Carey's grandparents home a couple miles from the Alcott which everyone is invited to attend, then New Years eve that night, which I think we should have a good crowd to go out and tear things up with, and then, Sunday we'll be sticking around to recover and do nothing. Monday, I think, we'll hit the road. Ireland is being postponed until September when things are a little more settled out here, so we may drive up to a Vermont B&B for a couple days before heading back across the country, stopping in PA to visit her parents, Chicago for my family, and then, finally the mile high in the infant days of our ever-approaching and will-be ephemeral two-thousand-and-six. More soon. Yours,
Doc (Ph.D. courses start March 17, 2006 – for some time then I'll be a doctoral candidate in Media & Cultural Theory, a division of the Joint PhD in Theology, Philosophy, and Cultural Theory between the Iliff School of Theology and the University of Portland. Now that's a mouthful. Cheers.) ۞
Samuel Bartlett, Yo, chiefy. How's tricks these days? I have a question for you in regards to the wedding, so here goes. As it is easiest, and most sensible to us, we'll be doing the paperwork here in Colorado. So, legally we'll be married here a few days before leaving for Christmas in Chicago, and then, the actual wedding in New Jersey will be the small ceremony and the big party. We figure no one will mind in the least, if they even know, so it seems like a good plan to us. Hopefully, one of Clara's friends (the friend is pondering the proposition as we speak), a Psychology M.A. from Naropa, will stand in as an excellent officiator at the actual wedding in Cape May on Dec 30th. Clara has prepared a few excerpts that we would like read at the very small and intimate ceremony on the 30th at the Hotel Alcott (90 people max). Her maid of honor is going to read some things, and then Clara thought it would be cool to have someone from my family read a short paragraph. My brother is standing in as best man, so I was wondering if you might want to stand up and read the following text. I would really dig it if you would, but I only would want you to do it if you felt comfortable doing so. Since I cannot have two "best man's" I figured this was a pretty solid way of making clear to you the role you've played ever since that parking lot in Steamboat Springs, CO, oh so few summers ago. Here's the quote. It's from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran. To familiarize yourself (and the Bomber's self) with his work go here http://leb.net/gibran/ "Love one another but make not a bond of that love. Let it rather be like a moving sea between the shores of your souls. And stand together, and yet not too near together. For even the pillars of the temple must stand apart; and the oak tree and the cypress will not grow in each other's shadow. Remember that love gives nothing but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed, for love is sufficient unto love. And think not that you can direct the course of love. For love, if it finds you worthy, will direct your course." No obligation, amigo. Either way, I'll see you in NJ. Let me know………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………. LT ۞
OK, Im postponing the Alaska trip a little longer in light of sticking around town to save and earn some cash. So, Im still coming to attend one (at least) paid ticket day at Bluegrass. I was wondering if you had tickets for all weekend, or if you were only going in certain days. Friday looks tempting. I can swing $55 for all that I think. Only one day though, I think, because I already have all festival passes for Folks Festival in Lyons later on.
LT ۞ Thu 10/27/2005 5:44 PM Dear Mr. Coach Munro, I am a lacrosse team fan and an employee of the University of Portland and everyday I walk through the lacrosse area on campus. To be direct, I think the way some of the men's lacrosse team practices is extremely dangerous to people walking by. It's when they take shots on an untended goal that backs up to the walkway near the underpass that houses the locker rooms and entranceways to the stadium that this happens. Several times now I've seen someone recording the speed that the players are shooting on goal, and several times the players miss the net which sends the ball tearing into the walkway. Sometimes the balls get stuck in the black chain link fence, but often times they rip through it and smash against the brick wall. The numerous bends and warps in that fence are testament to this ridiculous and unsafe behavior. I don’t need to tell you what would happen if someone walking by were to take one of those shots in the head. The other day a girl walking in front of me had to duck and was visibly shaken. Honestly I am shocked at the lack of forethought and maturity, not to mention the amount of disregard for others around them which these students show. Please see to it that they move to a safer location on the field. Thank you for your time. Leonard Treadway ۞
Joe and Danimal, As long as they keep making the donut easier to handle, more convenient, and more accessible to the healthy professional on-the-move, we're all in good shape. Whether its so past the safe shelf life that the company wont even try to profit off of it or not.
LT ۞ Fri 9/30/2005 3:08 AM Mr. Youngblood, I had a fabulous time tonight getting fired up about your talk, and then having the good fortune of speaking with you casually, like friends on the street, later in the evening. Going on about Kerouac is always a highlight for me, being a top-notch "hero and influence"; but getting a couple first hand accounts of old bull Bukowski was just plain fun. Pretty much, with this right-away letter, I wanted to initiate a dialogue between you and I. I hope you enjoy the poems at your leisure, and maybe make some time to get up to Big Sky Country. Near Bozeman is where Brautigan fished, drank, and wrote; the Flathead Valley is my preference, but both and anywhere in between is just about God's Country, as they say. If I ever can be of any help to you, just say the word. I'd be honored. And I never have said that to anyone before. (Even though it’s a disturbingly applicable cliché. ) Pleasure meeting you, Leonard Treadway ۞
Samuel Bartlett, Tonight I drank with the ex-editor of the L.A. FreePress, the underground paper from the late 1960s which featured a rambling, drunken column from Charles Bukowski. Gene Youngblood is his name. He's a world-known media philosopher and grand advocate for the Media Democracy Movement since before anyone knew what the Media Democracy Movement was. They didn’t know what it was because it didn’t exist, aside from being an ideological method to something more honest that CNN, NBC, or Comcast. (I don’t know that Comcast even was back then, but fuck em anyway.)
"Montana." He says. "Why'd you go up there?" I told him. "Montana." He says. "I gotta get up there." Oh, one of those nights that should never end. And make chapters worth of frick-a-freck rock a day poems. Here it comes, I say, stay tuned. "Control the context…" Gene said, in a pointing-finger, straw hat, black shirt, black suspenders, old man kind of way from up at the bar stool lecturn. "Control the context, and you control reality." LT ۞
Dear Jeffrey Levine,
I look forward to hearing from you again. LT ۞
Yo!! What's up Kimmee?!?! So great to hear from you. How's things? Things are good in CO. Portland's OK, but kind of 'big city' and it gets old. I'd rather be in the mountains. But all in all I cant complain. I'll be in Chicago for Thanksgiving. Long weekend hopefully. Getting married to my sweetie, Clara, in December in Cape May, New Jersey. Just finished Grad school. And Doing web development for the University of Portland. Hmmmm...what else...i Just found an enormous outdoor fireplace in the park so I might go over there and bring a bundle of wood this evening. Bars are gross; tired of drinking. I've been hooked on veggie brats lately, sos im going to cook one up right now. Where you live?? Rolling Meadows? Here's a new poem for you.....(see attachment) So between my last email to you and now I cut the backyard grass with the landlords lawnmower. I left it go for about three weeks, in which time I also watered it continuously, so, you might say, it resembled a gnarly weedy smurf jungle with a big old warn out hammock hanging above. In addition to the ridiculous height, its dark out here and all I had to go by was a shoddy old light with about a 30 watt bulb bent on top of the garage and a sliver of partly cloudy moonlight. Now I smell like gasoline and freshly mowed grass. Life is good. Good for you not drinking. Probably don’t need to start up again. Its really only fun and beneficial before turning 21, after that it just becomes severely routine. Dang, I didn’t know your son would be 11. crazy. Congratulations, too. Time flys and flys. What's his name? He's most likely a very cool kid, coming from you and all. Maybe some day I'll get to meet him and tell him to get in all of his drinking before he turns 21 because after that it just becomes severely routine (just kidding). Me no longer restless. I have this job at the uni with rad benefits, a cool house 4 blocks away (rental, and want to buy a house very soon), a sweet retirement saving thing that the school gives me tons of extra cash to just fester in some obscure 403b account, free tuition to start the PhD next spring, free tuition for Clara to do her MBA or PhD, the mountains within earshot, mild weather, the mountains within earshot, tenure track prospects, and the mountains within earshot. Someday I'll move back to Chicago. Or Montana. But for now, things are good. And moving when you cannot any longer fit everything you own into your 4 cylinder pickup truck is a royal PITA. --as you most definitely are aware. Didn’t you live in Nevada for a while? My good buddy from SHS Bob Bartusiak bought a house in Henderson. Im supposed to see him again soon, too. Its been way too long. Nice work emailing me. Now we can be chums again and listen to the Darling Buds and wear fake, thick rimmed eye glasses, and cruise around in the coolest Ford Escort that ever lived. ۞
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