Lone Dog Tour

On Lone Dog Road and why I’m not writing political posts

I’m heartened by the reception that Lone Dog Road is receiving.  Like all my books, it enters into the world with little fanfare and then either quietly finds its way or quietly disappears.  Lone Dog Road appears to be finding its way.

Some folks have asked me why I no longer do political posts, since people enjoyed them and they had a strong following.  My answer is that I am doing political posts — folks just don’t see them as such.  I have no interest in letting the cruel monster in charge of this country live inside my head any longer. He has been there for far too long.  He thrives on the poison of our hate and anger and derives his strength and meaning from it.  At some point he will be gone and we will have to pick up the pieces.  My political stance at this point is that I need to point a direction by which those pieces can be picked up when the time comes, and it will.

Lone Dog Road is about picking up those pieces.  It is a story of redemption and hope, and how the small part each of us plays in life’s drama has importance and meaning, far more than we understand.  Yes, it is a road book.  Yes, it is the story of two young Lakota boys on the run.  But it is also the story of the good people who from their own struggles and isolation, reach out to help, and in doing so, add to the goodness and hope in the world.  Each of them has importance; each has meaning.

We each have an important role to play in these dark times.  Some of us need to thunder like prophets.  Some need to pick up the spears and pitchforks.  Some need to keep the home fires burning and teach the children.  Some need to plan and reshape and envision a better way.

I once wrote in one of my more homiletic books that it is not our task to judge the worthiness of our path.  Our task is to walk our path with worthiness.  Lone Dog Road is about people walking their paths and doing what is asked of them by such lights as they have.  Do they know the outcome? No. Do they know if they are doing the right thing?  No.  But they each lean toward the light in the best way they can.  And in the end, there may indeed be a meaning far greater than any of them understands.

That is the political stance of Lone Dog Road, and that is the political stance I choose to take as a writer at this time in my and America’s life.

I hope you will read Lone Dog Road with this in mind.  It should be a good beach read, a good “summer on the porch” read.  But it also should be, as all my books are, a teaching story.  Sometimes the most important thing we can do is try to see the world closely and intimately through the eyes of people different from ourselves, and to teach our children that openness to the richness of life is a better route to meaning than closing down around anger and bitterness.

Keep reading Lone Dog Road (or listening on audible) and writing your reviews on Amazon and Goodreads.  If this book is important for the understanding of the human heart, and I think it is, we need to keep it alive and pass it from hand to hand as a reminder that even in dark times the pursuit of the light is the only true route of redemption and hope.

I hope your summer is going well.  I value and appreciate you all.

On Lone Dog Road and why I’m not writing political posts Read More »

Day 9: Cherry Street books, Alexandria, Minnesota

 

Bookstores occupy a unique place in small communities. There is generally a fiercely visionary aspect to their presence and, usually, a fragility. After all, they are selling a product that is discretionary in areas of the country where folks generally don’t have a lot of discretionary income. Hardware stores they need; bookstores, not so much.

Too often the economic realities of the town and the book business force these stores to descend into being shops of greeting cards and gift items, with the books becoming secondary. No praise, no blame. It’s just the way it is.

But when a store survives with its vision intact and establishes itself as a community anchor, it shines in a very special fashion. Even people who never step inside its doors point to it with pride. “See, we are more than Walmarts and Dollar Generals and barstools and denver omelettes. We are part of the larger world. We value ideas and adventures of the mind.”

Cherry Street is one of those community anchors. Maybe I’m blinded by my history with this store: it, like Beagle and Wolf, was one of the stores that embraced me and promoted me early in my career. Kathleen Pohlig, the founder, made me feel like I was important, not just the next author up in a string of author appearances. A dinner out, good fellowship, and a warm welcome in the store. It made me feel like Sally Field in her famous exclamation: “You like me! You people really like me!” And the feeling was mutual.

This tour’s night together at Cherry Street just cemented that love. All you folks out there in big city America, all you folks who think that rural America is just bullet-headed Trumpists, need to go to a reading at a store like Cherry Street. Smart people, engaged people, stronger in their belief in a worldly vision than many of their urban compatriots, because the reactionary forces with which they have to contend are ominpresent and immediate in their everyday lives.

A rainy night just enhanced the evening’s intimacy. I left with a warm feeling in my heart, not just for Cherry Street, but for this whole nine day journey through the Minnesota north country that I love so much.

Now, it’s a little R and R before going back on the road in the southern part of the state. Sadly, I have to say adieu to my blogging about the tour. Obligations are piling up and I can’t keep pace with the demands. Every mother has at one time told her kids, “If you can’t say something nice, say nothing at all.” My personal variation on that admonition is, “If you can’t do something right, don’t do anything at all.” I can’t do the blogging right, so here comes my radio silence.

Keep reading, keep passing on the word about Lone Dog Road, and pet every dog you can.

Day 9: Cherry Street books, Alexandria, Minnesota Read More »

Scroll to Top