Next year starts 2026. As we have done since 2015,each member of the family chooses one word for the next year. We each share the reason behind the word, and then design our display. This year we are using small wooden clipboards.
As you can see from the picture my word is MAGIC.
There are a number of reasons behind my choice for the word. I want to create more magical moments, which I tried to do this Christmas, actually, when Santa visited our house for everyone. There were 8 filled stockings under the tree (my six children and my new daughter-in-law and my son’s longtime girlfriend). And yes, Santa visited my wife, even if she didn’t get a stocking, she had presents under the tree.
But to have magical moments I have to be active as a father, a husband, and even as a poet. Magic doesn’t happen staring at a screen. It happens when my children laugh, my wife smiles, someone replies to a poem I wrote.
I have some really big goals this year. Accomplishing them will be magical. Jon Finch once said, “Magic is the poetry of impossibilities, each trick a stanza in the verse of wonder.” And I am a good poet.
I’m not sure what actually triggered the slight shift of my perspective. I can not pinpoint the week, the day, or the hour that I really started to consider how important it is to make sure my actions represent love.
For the last couple of months I have been conscious of what my actions are revealing about what this world is about. It is a daunting thought. My smile for a person in the grocery store will not create a viral trend. My dad joke in class only gets a few chuckles and quite a few groans. The question about Christmas gifts I ask for the barista is only for them. My insight on a poem shared on X is quick but could be so much deeper.
My actions will not change the world.
I could easily walk past the person in the cereal aisle. Get right to the lesson plan in class. Wait for my coffee silently. Just repost the poem.
The world would continue as is.
Except for the change in the moment and what the world could be like if all the moments were like the first examples. And let’s see if I can express this personal idea clearly.
In one way, Ben Rector said it well, “But now I just wanna look more like love.”
On the surface that is the idea, but the reason why is important. My actions express to everyone what the meaning of life is. But so does everyone’s actions. The person driving while busy on their phone says that the content on the screen is more important than driving safely. The fights in the stands of sporting events say that being a fan of a team is more important than being respectful of another person. There are so many examples of heartbreaking actions in this world that reveal people’s meaning of life is not love or the well being of others. Even my own parents taught me that drugs, alcohol, and other people were more important than me.
Our everyday actions reveal our meaning of life to the world. To the people around us, the people we love and the people we can’t stand. And it’s hard to not be swayed by things like money or success (which Ben Rector’s song deals with). It’s hard not to be judgmental, especially for people we don’t get along with.
But, the other day as my wife and I were having dinner at Red Lobster, a little boy across the aisle was looking at us. His mom and dad were trying to get him to eat some broccoli. His other brother was nicely eating corn and shrimp. I smiled at him. His face lit up and then he buried his head in his mom’s arm. Then he shot a look back at me. I smiled again. He smiled and then buried his face again.
I remembered when we would bring our children to Red Lobster. How my oldest daughter loved the broccoli, but my boys wanted applesauce. I smiled again at the little boy because I wanted him to know this world was filled with love.
Even though I know the little boy would learn that the world is also filled with things like hate and broken relationships, I wanted my actions to show him that this world can be a wonderful place, as I hope others would show my own children.
My actions will not change the world. But at any given moment, I can look more like love. I can show another person in that single moment that the meaning of life is love. If you put enough moments like that together, a life can be wonderful. It can be strong enough to withstand the negative waves that happen to us all.
Emily loved this store, especially at Christmas. The Book and Gift store was a mishmash of books (new and used), toys, a Hallmark store, and even a growing used music section. The store seemed more like an antique mall instead of a regular shop. Book and Gift sat in an old J.C. Penny’s building downtown. But all the owners did was take down all the walls. There were columns everywhere and the carpet pathways were blocked with shelving or boxes of books. Each section of merchandise had its core, but bled over at the edges. The checkout was the old customer service desk in the back. There were old park benches throughout the store for people to sit.
It was a magical place on its own, but during the holidays it was a wonderland. The ceiling was lit by strings and strings of lights that wrapped around the columns. Random holiday characters could be found next to the benches or sitting on a shelf. Doug, the owner, always dressed in some 70’s band t-shirt, provided a free hot chocolate station, with little marshmallows, for the last few days before Christmas. Emily held a cup of hot chocolate, with a good helping of marshmallows, as she walked the store looking for a few last minute gifts.
As she stood in front of the Just Arrived book section she noticed a young man pacing in the music section. His blue hoodie was up over his head. Every few seconds, he would pull up his tattered jeans, act like he was looking at a LP, then pace some more. He projected an anxious energy.
Emily returned to the books, thinking about what Jill, the secretary at the office, would like. The young man in the blue hoodie was walking toward her, she wished her husband was here, but he was down the block at the sporting goods store. The young man walked past and Emily swore she could feel his energy prickle her skin.
“Give him a cup of hot chocolate.” She heard a voice say as a styrofoam cup of hot chocolate, with marshmallows appeared in her other hand. It took all of her control not to yell or squeeze the cup in her hand.
Emily looked around for the voice. “Hello?” she quietly asked.
“Trust me, all you need to do is give him the cup of hot chocolate.”
“Who are you, where are you?” Emily’s heart was racing. Nervously she looked into her own cup of hot chocolate for an answer.
“I’m not in your hot chocolate.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Emily said and laughed a little. “But who are you, what’s going on here?”
“Look up.”
Emily slowly raised her head. On top of the bookshelf sat an elf. But not decked out in red with a plastic smile. A real elf, just like the Christmas shows. A small blue triangle shaped hat. A matching blue shirt, with white and blue striped pants. His shoes were white with blue fuzz around the top. He even had pointed ears.
“I’m Dell, a Christmas elf.”
Emily almost crushed both cups as she stepped back.
“Whoa, it’s alright. Look around, I’m not the only one.”
Emily’s eyes grew wide as she saw at least eight other elves, all in different colors, some were female, long black hair flowing from their hats. Each of them seemed to be following a shopper. Emily turned to Dell with her mouth open.
“I don’t have time to explain, but let’s just say we are where people still believe in the spirit of Christmas.”
Emily could only nod her head.
“I really do need you to give Sam that hot chocolate, please.” And he was gone. Emily looked around the store, all the elves were gone. She turned her head back around to her left and the young man, Sam, was fidgeting with some Christmas ornaments. Emily froze. She thought she saw the handle of a gun when Sam pulled his pants back up.
“Give him the hot chocolate and go sit down. That’s all you need to do.”
Dell’s voice got her feet moving.
“Excuse me, young man, I thought you might like a cup of hot chocolate,” Emily looked down to see the marshmallows floating on top, “with marshmallows.” She held her hand out for him.
Sam had turned slowly around as Emily was speaking, tense, ready to run. He looked at her, then at the cup of hot chocolate, back to Emily, then took the cup without saying anything.
Emily awkwardly nodded at Sam then went to a bench in the book section with Rudolph standing next to it. As she sat down she felt her whole body tremble. She took a few long breaths and sipped her drink. She kept her head down for a few minutes, slowly sipping her hot chocolate.
Sam’s voice made her look up.
“Why did you give me this?”
Emily almost said because an elf told me to, but instead she said, “I thought you would like it. My favorite part is when the marshmallows melt a little, and you get the chocolate and the marshmallow in the same sip.”
Sam thought for a moment, then sat down next to her.
Emily honestly wanted to run. She looked around to see if Dell was there, or any of the elves. She only saw a few shoppers look their way, then back to whatever they had in their hands.
“My dad used to make us hot chocolate. On the stove. He had this old pot, you know, not the shiny kind we have now, but like cast iron?” Sam looked over at her.
Emily said, “Yeah, like my grandma had.”
“Yeah, he said it used to be his grandmother’s. He would heat up milk, then use these chunks of chocolate, add salt even, and a splash of vanilla, I think.” Sam sat quiet for a second.
“Did you have little marshmallows?” Emily felt the need to keep Sam talking.
Sam laughed a quiet pain filled chuckle. “No, he would drop one big one in our cups. It took forever to even melt a little.” He turned toward Emily, a small smile on his face. She noticed he had soft hazel eyes.
“I bet,” Emily smiled back. She almost asked about his dad, but it seemed too big of a question.
“Anyway, I didn’t say thank you, so thank you.” Sam stood up.
Emily stood up, too. She held back the urge to hug him, instead she held out her hand. Sam took it. “Merry Christmas, Sam,” Emily said.
Sam stood there holding her hand, squeezing it a little at the sound of his name. His eyes wide with the question of how she knew his name, instead he said, “Merry Christmas to you.”
Emily saw his eyes swell. She squeezed his hand to let him know she saw him. They slowly let go, and Sam lifted his cup to her and turned away taking a sip. Emily noticed his walk was steady.
“Thank you,” she heard Dell say. She looked down into her cup but then smiled and looked up as Dell was fading away with a small wave.
Well, it was 60 degrees today. Only a few days away from Christmas, and I was walking in shorts this afternoon. My youngest daughter said it shouldn’t feel like spring right now.
But it does feel like Christmas for me… Everyone, plus significant others, will be home for Christmas morning. And mom and I have decided that Santa is coming for everyone this year. That means stockings and everything. I can’t wait!
But that is in a few days, there were a number of cool days in 2025.
One of the best days from this last year was seeing The Outsiders musical with my wife and three younger daughters. I wondered how they would make such an iconic book into a musical. I was impressed, and even teared up at different times during the performance.
Speaking of music, my Spotify top 100 songs were a mix of classic and more modern music. My number one song was Dermot Kennedy’s “Moments Passed” and in conjunction with the blog post, “Song Number 25”, my 25th song was “Overrated” by Thriving Ivory.
The coolest musical events though came from two interviews Dante and I conducted for our podcast, The Creative Moment. We had the honor of interviewing Rascal Martinez and Chris Glover, known as Penguin Prison. It was fun learning about how the muse works in the musical world.
But we didn’t just interview musicians, we talked to LMDesign8, a virtual and real world artist, and Konn Lavery, an author that writes horror novels and stories.
In a few months we will host our 100th episode! Stay tuned for that milestone.
On a personal note, I recently released a new collection of poetry, Life in Poetic Form. And released an audio poetry EP, Open Mic, which is available on all streaming services. Even though I had over 10 major rejections for my writing, not just poetry this year, I believe that my writing can make an impact for others. So, I write…
I am finishing up two books during break. I will then meet my goal of 60 books this year! One of my biggest surprises was the two volumes of the graphic novel, Starve. The series was written in 2016, but I came across the first collection in a book store. Then I ordered the second volume because I loved the story. This is the wonder of books, the timelessness of a story in physical form. The power of browsing a book store. The slight chance of finding a story that brings wonder and joy into your life.
This year also reinforced that magic of recommendations. Of the connection people build by suggesting a book they love to someone else. I read the book, Stoner, by John Williams, because it was recommended to me by a Twitter (I know its X…) friend. We talked about the book on X as I read it. I loved the book. Again, the power of books / stories to build connections in this world.
I’m not sure what 2026 will bring. How many rejections I will read. How many blog posts I will write. What new music I will hear, or new stories I will read.
But I know I will continue to try to build connections, to share poetry, and to let love lead me through the next 365 days.
As a birthday gift, I took my wife to the Collin Raye and Lonestar Christmas and Hits concert on Saturday. It was a fun night. Our first concert was Collin Raye at a state fair when we were dating. So, it was cool to see him again in concert after 29 years.
Collin Raye is 65 years old. His voice is the same, his personality, too. But we all grow old. Collin Raye had some fun with that truth. He shared a story about injuring his knee. He joked that he needed to catch his breath after singing “That’s My Story”.
But the energy and joy was tangible as he performed. His voice took us back in time, yet brought joy to the moment. As is my nature I thought of a few things about art, about creativity, and about life.
First was the powerful force art is. In this case music, but in my life poetry and stories and these blog posts. Overall the night was joyful and energetic, but also reflective when Collin Raye sang some of the more spiritual Christmas songs.
I hope my words have that effect on readers. To make them think, to be moved toward the emotions and reflections I try to express in my words.
Second was that AI can not match human creation and expression. Yes, I think it can help an artist reach their creative goal, but that’s the point. Art is human based. It is a reflection of our souls, or hearts, or views of this life. AI can not do that. I think we have a ways to go before we find the balance between technology and human creative importance, but I trust in the power and need for us to express the meaning of this world through our chosen art.
Lastly, this life is a moment. We get to choose the moments, the content, the meaning of it. The whole concert was a wonderful time, filled with funny moments: the keyboard player for Lonestar received a few drinks from a couple in the front row. It was a ‘had to be there’ moment. The Christmas songs reminded all of us of the upcoming holiday and what it should be about.
And seeing Collin Raye perform at age 65 without reservations was an inspiration for me.
Here is one of the songs Collin Raye performed at the first concert. This song has always stuck with me.
I got to interview one of my favorite musical artists, Chris Glover, on an episode of The Creative Moment podcast (YouTube video below). He is now known as Penguin Prison, but I have been a fan of his from the beginning of his career. So, it was an honor to get to talk with him for the podcast.
But now… I am jealous of him.
At about the 27 minute mark in the video I ask Chris what is his main drive as an artist, what was his WHY for creating music. I totally understood his answer. Chris said “I basically can’t do anything else.”
Chris didn’t mean he didn’t have the skills to do anything else, he expanded on the answer talking about how life would be easier with a normal job, but that wasn’t him. Chris is a musician, a creative person. This is what he does.
Chris is living out his life through his music. That’s why I am jealous. To live life by surrendering to my writing would be incredible. But that is the central battle of many artists, especially ones like me that have built families and careers. I have written about this balancing act before (“It is hard to reach your goals“). And make no mistake I would not give up any aspect of my life as a husband and father to be a famous poet / writer.
Doesn’t mean I can’t be jealous of Chris though, and I believe his music reflects that surrender to his music. You can feel the joy and authentic energy in his songs. It is one of the reasons I am a fan. His music is not like any other musician’s.
I am jealous, but I am also inspired by Chris Glover. Even more so after getting the opportunity to talk with him. I am inspired to write the poetry, the blog, the stories only I can write.
In fact, the chorus of Chris’ first ever single “Stand on Your Seat” makes more sense to me now:
It is all Connected 