Loss

Here's another piece which premiered at last year's Utah Arts Festival. As with everything you'll see in "The Rio Grande Report," it was written by a homeless person. If you'd like to submit, see the information at the end of today's post. Letters to the editor, news clippings and photographs, art, and poetry are all welcome.

"for Jeremy--- although you were lost, may you find peace.

Loss

'The art of losing isn't hard to master...'

I am a professional loser. I've been called such by many people many times: some who just met me; some I've known for years; some who claimed to be my friend, or to love me; some who make no secret of the fact that they despise me; some members of my family. I can't fault them for calling things the way they see them. What else do you call an unemployed, homeless, 46-year-old, writer who doesn't own a car and has never been married?

I prefer bohemian.

But that's not the kind of loser I'm talking about. I am very good at losing things, and I seem to sharpen this skill with each passing year.

'...so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost...'

Most things I tend to lose are trivial, the kind of things one loses all the time. Who hasn't lost a pack of cigarettes or gum, some spare change, the paperback you brought or the newspaper you bought, to read on the bus? Pens, Bic lighters, umbrellas, hats, gloves, scarves, sunglasses. I swore to never pay more than a buck for shades. I had a prescription pair, and of course I've lost them. I paid $15 for some clip-ons, and I live in constant fear of losing them.

Other items are a more inconvenient loss: cell phones, Ipods, keys, jewelry. When I lost my high school class ring, I found it six months later under the driver's seat of my Ford Pinto station wagon. I have no idea how it got there. Two weeks later I lost it again., forever. A month after that I lost the Pinto when it exploded. I just lost an expensive gold chain the other day. I lost my car keys one morning, only to find them under my cat when I went to put him out (Whittington liked to hide things). I lost a gold dental crown once. I called my dentist and he said, "Just bring it on in, and I'll re-affix it. But I couldn't find it, so I assumed I'd swallowed it in my sleep. That being the case, I wasn't to keen on retrieving it and getting it back in my mouth.

I've lost reams of crucial documents. I've lost so many ID's and birth certificates that I'm not completely sure who I am, but they know me quite well at the DMV and Bureau of Vital Statistics. I've lost my high school diploma. I lost an entire case of family photos an aunt had sent me. I've never forgiven myself for that loss. Last year I lost every frame of video footage I shot for a film I almost got to make.

I've had over 20 jobs in my life; the fired-to- quit ratio is about 50/50. I've lost dozens of apartments and one house. The movers lost my treasured collection of hundreds of LP's and cassettes. I left the rent money in a bag of groceries on the bus once.

Don't you hate losing your train of thought? If I don't get an idea, phrase, or story line down right away, no matter how clever or original I think it may be, it is lost. I've lost the only electronic and hard copies of several works I've written. What I consider my best short story ever is eternally lost to me. I used to play trumpet, but I've lost the ability to read music.

I've lost three special pets. In the 1980's I lost dozens of friends to AIDS. I've lost five lovers. Well, some of them lost me. I lost my mother when I was 20 and my father when I was 24.

'...the art of losing's not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) disaster.'

The day I started writing this piece, I learned that one of the gentlest, sweetest, most beautiful people I have ever known had been murdered. Some gang-bangers bashed in his skull with a rock. I hadn't seen or spoken with him in months. We just lost touch

I've lost my hair; I'm rapidly losing my teeth and my hearing. I've lost my senses, lost my nerve, lost my lunch, lost face, lost my patience, lost my cool, and frequently believe I am losing my mind. My favorite television show is---you guessed it---LOST.

Life is filled with loss. I think that's what Elizabeth Bishop tells us in her poem, One Art, from which I've quoted a few lines here. Some losses are routine. Some are tragic. I've lost more than I think I'll ever acquire again. I've lost people whose departures have left great emotional and spiritual chasms in my life

All loss must be accepted and dealt with.

'Lose something every day.'

Although much of what I've lost is just 'stuff,' some thing lost cannot be replaced. The few things I've managed to keep, I wish to never lose. I haven't lost my self respect. I haven't completely lost my integrity, I haven't lost my purpose.

I haven't lost hope."

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Send me your experiences, letters art work, poetry, stories.

E-mail me at riograndereport@live.com subject line: submissions. You may always remain anonymous. If you'd like to donate services, office space, equipment, or any other needs, e-mail me with the subject line "donations." Any news people who might like to give permissions to reprint articles and use photographs, use the subject line "news." Letters should use the subject line letters. Snail mail: P. O. Box 3001 Salt Lake City UT 84110.

In all submissions, please include some sort of signed statement that you give "The Rio Grande Report" permission to publish your work, and that you understand that you will receive no compensation. You retain all rights to your work. The Report's rights are only one-time North American. If anyone wants to use your work further, they have to contact me, then I'll contact you.