I had a gig that I loved. Of all the various “straight” jobs I’ve had, I felt that this one was as close to being perfect as I’d ever find. I felt uniquely qualified to carry it out. Then, a governor was elected, a man with an angry spirit much like Mr. Trump’s. He knew nothing about workforce training and because he was stupid (but thought he knew more than anyone else), he cut the budget for training in Maine. He continued his assault on the state’s training infrastructure for eight years.

Once I found out the job I enjoyed and was good at was going away, I figured it was time to craft my personal brand. That’s how the JBE originated in 2012.

I considered a host of various templates and ways to message what I wanted to say. I made sure I included a blog as part of the new WordPress site I built and plugged into the world wide web. Ultimately, I settled on the idea of “reinvention” because in 2004 and 2005 that’s what’d I was doing—reinventing my way of doing things. By 2012, I’d gotten pretty good at it. Writing was an essential skill I utilized then and still do.

I read Alvin Toffler in high school and I came back to the noted futurist during my period of retooling. It was Toffler who “gave me” the tagline of “learn, unlearn, and relearn” as a means of understanding what learning was in the context of creating something brand new—again, that idea of reinvention.

Besides Toffler, there were others. I became a fan of the likes of Seth Godin, Daniel Pink, and of course, I was already a fan of Mark Baumer, perhaps my biggest cheerleader relative to the need to embrace new ideas and doing it with gusto and with a certain kind of fearlessness.

It was Christmas 2013, and he bought his dad a three-month subscription to an online learning platform. He thought I could teach myself graphic design, especially how to use and utilize Adobe InDesign. I asked half-jokingly if this was because he was sick of doing my layout and design for my books and other projects I asked him to partner with me on. He assured me it wasn’t.

I never did become proficient with InDesign, although I recently updated my resource booklet for a publishing boot camp I held last fall. I appreciated having a son who was committed to learning, unlearning, and relearning and pushed his old man in that direction, too.

When Mark was killed, many of his friends and former MFA colleagues entered our lives. Some of them have become our friends over the course of the past two years of missing and mourning a son who we’ll never get over losing. Last week, I spoke with one of them. We spoke about how embracing new things can be scary as hell. We both agreed that being afraid and filled with doubt is preferable to living in a place where you are bored out of your mind—at least that’s how I roll and so does my friend.

He told me that he’s been taking drawing lessons. We talked about this idea that we have and know that others do, too, that often prevents people from taking on new tasks and learning new skills. Many times it’s rooted in the preconceived notion about “being good” at something and what being good or proficient means.

When Mark was small and our unit of three were living in Indiana, I bought a cheap Les Paul knock-off of a guitar for $25. I’d always wanted to learn to play guitar. I didn’t know where to start and it was years before I could play a few songs. I was stuck in that place where I was putting my playing up against guitar players I had grown up listening to. Of course I couldn’t match a Clapton solo on a song like “Crossroads” at that stage.

Once I figured out that I could learn to plays some songs (thank you, Jorma), my playing took off. I was still clumsy along the fretboard, but I was better than I used to be.

Being a writer, my focus has always been on my writing craft. Most of my free time (at least the time I’m not frittering away) not writing or trying to earn a couple of shekels is focused on writing. That means my guitar usually gets put in its case and stuck in the corner. Sometimes I won’t play guitar for months and there have been stretches of inactivity lasting more than a year.

Waiting to be played

I signed up for a guitar class this summer through adult ed. I was excited about it. The instructor seemed like the kind of guitar player who had a lot to offer and teach his students. The first class was after my Father’s Day road trip. I struggled to sit comfortably due to my SI joint issue. Thinking I would be the worst player in the group, surprisingly, I could tell I knew more than all but one of the other aspiring guitarists in a group of eight. I had to drop the class.

Once I was able to sit again for more than 20 minutes, I got my guitar out and began playing. What I discovered is that while I was still a guitarist-in-search-of-skills, I’ve managed to forge a foundation over the years that allows me to come back to my instrument and begin building on things I’ve already put down.

When Darren and I were talking on Friday by phone, this is what I was thinking about when he was telling me about drawing and how meaningful it was to him, a writer who is a gifted poet.

I have been playing my guitar 20-30 minutes a day. That is my goal and on Saturday, I played for more than an hour. I am learning some new songs, too.

While it’s highly unlikely that you’ll ever be able to find me on Bandcamp or Spotify, I am enjoying playing in a way I haven’t for years. I’m also finding that this activity of embracing something that’s hard and requires intuition, has been a boon for me as a writer, in generating new ideas.

It’s funny how when you give yourself over to “learn, unlearn, and relearn,” exciting things follow. Mark knew that and I think he’d be happy to know what his dad is up to these days of still being sad and yet trying to stay true to the person that my son loved and cared about.