“Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically.”

— D.H. Lawrence

Saturdays in February can be ho-hum: NFL playoffs are over, the weather can be good cop/bad cop, and my Creative Writing class is over. This year’s Creative Writing class, which met for six consecutive Saturdays starting in January, was star-studded. Of the five energetic scribes, two were former mayors (one of which was a volunteer fireman and EMT), another an artist and the other two were a husband-wife duo. It was interesting hearing or reading the same story from two different perspectives. No they didn’t fight. That would have added even more flare to the already best class of creative writers I’ve had the privilege of shepherding. I don’t “teach” creative writing. I just get out of the way and let hungry-for-expression people write. For all of them, it may have been the first time they had carte blanche to write whatever they wanted, a weekly deadline and an audience of peers for critiquing. I’ll say this: it was the first time I openly cried (the acid test of quality prose) in class.

Our first class couldn’t meet in-person because of a blizzard, but through the cyber magic of Zoom we were able to “get together.” And then, about three weeks into the course, I was slapped in the hospital to have a pacemaker put in. I liked to joke that the students were hard on my heart. (Actually, they were.) But did I cancel a class? Nope. I wasn’t about to slow down the momentum of a runaway freight train!

So, Ginnie’s and my first Saturday after class was over found us asking, “What should we do?” The letdown was palpable. I checked the movie schedule and there were two movies we wanted to see: “Marley: One Love” and “The Bee Keeper” with Jason Statham. Ginnie wanted to see “Marley” and I needed the action of Jason Statham. We couldn’t decide. So quick like a schemer thinks, I said, “Shoot, Ginnie. We’re both old coots, let’s see both movies in one afternoon.”

“Say what?” she said. “You’ll never stay awake.”

“I’ll take 5-Hour Energy drink between movies.”

We checked the movie schedule for times. It looked like we could finish one movie, then go to the next. What the heck? We’re seniors and we can do anything we want, no matter how bourgeois it is. I would even pay for both movies. No sneaking in for us! I remembered back to the days of my youth when a buddy and I sneaked into the drive-in theater in Knoxville in the trunk of his girlfriend’s GTO. Those were the days.

The person at the ticket counter was a little incredulous. “You wanna what?” But he checked the movie times, and it would work, and we did pay for both movies. He turned to the popcorn people and hollered, “A first! They’re paying for both movies!” The popcorn people applauded. We would have about a 20-minute wait following “Marley” before “The Beekeeper” started. The only thing we did a little shady was refill our drinks in-between movies (and added the energy drink)–which necessitated urgent runs to the restrooms.

Even though the thick Jamaican patois is hard to understand, “Marley: One Love” starring Kingsley Ben-Adir and Lashana Lynch is an excellent Reggae movie, Mon. “The Beekeeper” with Jason Statham is, well, typical of most Jason Statham performances. It’s totally unrealistic. He manages to single-handedly beat up or kill maybe a thousand bad guys and save the Free World. But it was the blood-pumping action I needed to take the place of my Creative-Writing-class high, and beat the winter doldrums. (Ginnie says one Jason Statham movie is enough for her!) The only thing I would change, if I had the power, is “Winter Doldrums” should be spelled “Dulldrums” which is the way I tried to spell it. Thank you, God, for Spellcheck.

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Have a good story? Call or text Curt Swarm in Mt. Pleasant at 319-217-0526, email him at curtswarm@yahoo.com, or visit his website at www.empty-nest-words-photos-and-frames.com.