Busy Mind

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In case you haven’t noticed by my years of writing daily blogs, I have a busy mind, and a voice in my head that never shuts the hell up.

Couple that with a sharp memory and a bit of a bleeding heart and sometimes there’s trouble afoot.

I woke up a little down on Wednesday morning. Another busy work day and a long drive to start it off, straight into some dark clouds and a sprinkle of rain.

A name popped into my head as I passed by a cemetery:

Peter Randazzo.

And then the story of a long-ago night.

There were a lot of tragic traffic accidents in my hometown. Almost everyone who ever stepped foot in the town suffered unspeakable loss of friends, siblings, neighbors…

…just too many.

I was in my early 20’s when I lost a young friend whom I was hoping to date.

Crushing.

I was also trying to get my writing career going then as well.

Her death messed with everything I thought I knew about how I would fill up the blank pages of my life.

She was here and then gone.

It certainly wasn’t fair, and I tried so hard to write a story - ‘Eye in the Sky’ - that made sense of it all - for me! 

Only for me! 

I didn’t care if anyone else ever read the book. 

I was trying to learn.

Yet, as tends to happen when writing a book it is a battle that can simply end as the writer quits.

My agent had offered editorial suggestions that I didn’t think I was smart enough to do.

My buddies were going drinking at the local watering hole. I caught a ride, and a strange thing happened.

‘Eye in the Sky’ by Alan Parsons came on the radio.

“Isn’t this the name of your book?” My buddy Tom asked.

“Was. I’ll never finish it.”

“Yeah. You will. You’re a stubborn prick.”

I laughed.

The night progressed as they did back then. Beer. Music. Darts. Pool.

I found myself alone at the end of the night, and being that I hadn’t driven, I decided to walk.

I wanted to walk…

…because in my alcohol-filled mind, I wanted to visit her gravestone.

This is where Peter Randazzo comes in. 

His gravestone was there. 

I even remember the dates of his life:

1863-1927.

I thought about the guy (told you my mind doesn’t shut up).

I wondered if he were still missed some 60 years after his death.

Then I walked my drunken ass up the big hill, and woke up ready to work on the story.

I did finish it.

Cut back to yesterday:

I get to my appointment in Salamanca. I’m introduced to the site superintendent.

“Mark Randazzo,” he said as he flicked out his hand for me to shake.

When he said his surname my knees buckled.

On the way home,

‘Eye in the Sky’ played out of my library.

The clouds lifted.

Turned into a bright sunny day.

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