Alcoholism Addiction Treatment

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  Linda G. Shelnutt posted: 01 May at 8:00 am

  This was written as a eulogy to a friend.
  
  It transformed itself into a review of:
  
  HELL’S HIGHWAY by G. Daniel Cole

  August 4, 2009 — Admiration of Richard’s Spiral Notebook

  A lot of beauty has been written by Richard and his friends within this perfect form of a Top Flight spiral notebook. This is the original type of notebook, before PC’s and Netbooks! I’m honored to read and contribute here, hoping I won’t mar the beauty by writing this on my laptop because I type hours per day and my hands no longer work well with a pen.

  I’m Richard’s friend Linda, mentioned in this notebook as having a passion for writing and having been a teacher of that art. As happy as I was for Richard, as encouraging as I was when he decided to try his hand at writing; I was sad when he dropped his habit of adding to this journal. I was hoping to find the keys for what caused that. What he wrote here describes a dissolving mindset which many hopeful pens have experienced.

  In spite of what may appear to be a letting go of writing before he had gotten a good start, I believe that, in Richard’s style of honed minimalism, he wrote the right words in the right amount in this spiral book. A person could read, reread, and contemplate each entry Richard wrote here, along with the entries contributed by his friends. The essays in this appropriate medium merge into a message.

  What stays in my mind from Richard’s entries is an image in his scene of Buffalo, Two Moons, and their son, Basil. In a single sentence Richard set a segment of words into a moving photograph which lives in the reader’s mind:

  “Little Basil lays on a blanket by her side, on his back, kicking his chubby legs into the air.”

  That story and that line especially seem to represent an ideal to Richard; an ideal he may have felt wasn’t possible for him… This is where writing and reading seep into life, enhancing it in ways which certain realities won’t allow. At the same time, I believe Richard lived his ideals. I believe Richard succeeded absolutely in achieving what he was born to experience.

  As mentioned above, prior to reading the whole of this notebook, taking care with each entry, I had wondered what caused Richard to set aside his journal…
  
  Maybe Richard was meant to live rather than to write, and if writing took too much away from living, from savoring his cherished daily routines, Richard, rightly, wouldn’t have time for it.

  As Richard had seen in me; a writer, especially a novelist, becomes obsessed with writing, too often to the extent that he lives less so he can write more. Yet, what a writer lives or experiences, he sucks into his soul, cataloguing the essence of what he feels and observes… Mostly he does this so he can capture it with words on paper.

  Contemplating the words in this notebook and recalling how Richard was, I feel that he needed to live each day more than he needed to write. He needed to be inside sunrises and sunsets, to leisurely pause over morning coffee, to work up culinary treats at a savoring pace. He seemed to need to fully address each minute of each of his days. To write is to take precious time away from the presence of each moment. I believe Richard was too alive to do that at any level of sustained obsession.

  Secondary issues seemed to be that rules about writing often get in the way; they can debilitate a soul born to write. I attempted to help Richard see that he didn’t need to make an agonizing study of the mechanics of writing, which is why the only two books I conditionally recommended on writing were Stephen King’s book, ON WRITING, and Strunk & White’s ELEMENTS of STYLE; and which is why I said that even those books have certain pieces of advice I wouldn’t or couldn’t follow. From Richard’s comments in his journal, it appears that he had become overwhelmed with how long it would take to learn how to write. I understand that overwhelm.

  A born to write individual draws words from the soul, which can be done with no preparation or study. One just sits down and composes without censor. Any necessary editing can come later. That isn’t as easy as it sounds because most people aren’t in touch with their souls.

  Richard was soul connected, and I believe that his spirit said to him, each minute or each day:

  “Live. Be aware of each minute as it occurs. Enjoy each caffeine-buzzed, black-walnut sip of bold-bean coffee; feel breezes shifting branches on elms; hear the shushing of winds waving oceans over tall grasses.”
  
  Richard lived to experience.

  I experience so I can write about it.

  Richard’s spiral notebook, in its perfection of minimalism contains a library of living, a library of his type of wisdom. Maybe what I value most in this book is his generous awareness, his ability to see that his ideals might not be everyone’s ideals.

  His last words in this journal:

  “There is something for everyone in this world.”

  In honor of Richard and appreciation of his treasured existence and friendship, those words will be my closing here.

  You’re riding the winds my friend, on the wings of an Eagle.
  
  Even long winds like me find peace at times.

  “Ever thought about slowing down?” Richard quoted here.

  Yes, partly because I naturally crave to do that, and partly because of you, Richard, even before you rose to the winds. I regularly try to slow down to a right speed for me… but I keep losing the brakes. You said I have a passion for writing. Bless you for using that word instead of obsession. If I settle into the right pacing, obsession lifts and the essence of passion remains.

  As I was finishing this missive, Paul walked by whistling the tune, “Fairytales can come true, it can happen to you, if you’re young at heart.” I was typing this with Richard’s calico cat Moons nearby, in the shaded stirrings of his elm tree, seated at his wooden picnic table, which Paul made into an icon of art by the simple addition and arrangement of a piece of weather grayed plywood accented by a water smoothed rock. You have to see it. Words don’t angle the ambiance.

  Paul is an artist. This spot on the Earth now feels like his palate has captured it.

  Paul’s years of presence have subtly and surely enhanced this encampment, as have Dave’s annual winter sojourns and caring contributions of carpentry and firewood, and Debbie’s weekly visits carrying news and sometimes blues. To me this spot also retains the spirit of Richard and the percolating presence of his cat Moons. It feels to belong to the place itself and to Richard’s family and friends, fortunate all to have shared bread with this man who lived his version of Walden Pond in an old farmhouse on a Mesa…

  To Richard, flying with Eagles, guardian of Moons,
  
  Linda Shelnutt

  “There is something for everyone in this world.” – Richard Noll
  
  – Richard was born during a perfect Full Moon in Sagittarius, May 28, 1953.
  
  – He died at 56 years old on June 2, 2009.
  
  – His friends gave a memorial gathering on his mesa property, beginning at Noon Sunday June 21, 2009.

  After having written the above eulogy, I realized that I still had a nagging question:

  Even with the perfected minimalism in this notebook, even with the seeming truth that Richard need to live, more than he needed to write, would he have written more if he hadn’t been hamstrung by the believe that it would take an overwhelming amount of time to learn the mechanics of writing, and by the belief that he had to not only learn the rules of composition but to follow them. ..

  In the previous sentence I had typed “fules” accidentally, instead of “rules”; now I wonder which word is more appropriate.

  I believe that Richard made the best choices he could have, with what he was given, the good and the bad.

  For an example of a soul writing a book through an untrained writer who courageously handed over the pen, read HELL’S HIGHWAY by G. Daniel Cole.

  That book was written in what is called a true writer’s VOICE; yet it was written by a man who says he’s not a writer, because he’s never been trained in the skill. Yes, his biographically based novel is written largely in incomplete sentences, yet that colloquial, conversational style is integral to the personality of the author, essential for the story he had to tell, and vital to the voice… and rhythm… in which it had to be told. (As an authorizing aside, many highly trained, professional, established authors have purposely and correctly used styles like the one Cole used in HH, including Jack Engelhard and me.)

  Cole’s editor and true friend, John W. Cassell, established author with several published works, was concerned at first that he felt unable to make the typically called-for grammatical alterations to Danny’s writing style. When John asked me about those concerns, I couldn’t have been more thankful, and said so as enthusiastically as I could, that John was the one given the editorial power over HELL’S HIGHWAY. I reinforced what John had believed, that Danny was writing from his soul and no man, woman, or system should intervene.

  When you read HELL’S HIGHWAY you hear a clear voice speaking directly to you. You’ll find no preaching there, just a representation of an amazing, enthralling, blessed and cursed life, re-lived on paper. It’s a must read.

  I’m saying so!
  
  © 2009 by Linda G. Shelnutt
  Rating: 5 / 5

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