Writers are strange creatures. I should know. I’m one of them. In her book, Bird By Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, Anne Lamott, one of my favorite authors says, “Writing is about learning to pay attention and to communicate what is going on.”  

 If you’ve been following my columns on Patch, you know that’s exactly what I do. I observe life and I pass it along to you –in my own inimitable style.

Writing is a great gig. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not easy. We sometimes make the mistake of equating easy work with enjoyable work. Nothing could be further from the truth. Some of the worst jobs I’ve ever had were easy, but were far from enjoyable.

There’s nothing more disconcerting than spending eight or ten hours a day wasting your time, doing something you despise just to get a paycheck. We all need a sense of worth. We need to feel as though we’ve accomplished something, as though being on this earth has made a difference; no matter how small.

Writing gives me that sense of worth and accomplishment. I feel that my words make a difference. Don’t misunderstand me; I know that not everyone likes me; not everyone likes my writing, but that doesn’t matter. If at least half my readers don’t hate me, I haven’t done my job.

I write a column for the Mansfield Patch entitled, Take Me Back, in which I reminisce about growing up in Mansfield. When I was first offered the column, I was a bit hesitant. It seemed as though it would be nothing more than a ‘fluff piece’, which, in my mind, is an assignment akin to writing filler copy – not my style.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’m having a ball! There’s something very special about reminiscing about the past. I’ve even reconnected with some old friends.

I always carry a small notebook with me wherever I go. It’s one of my most important and useful tools. Whenever I see something I consider ‘column-worthy’, I jot down a few notes on my pad. Not a lot; just enough to jog my memory. 

There are times when I'm  sitting at Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts in Easton and an idea hits me – in the notebook it goes. On occasion I’ve forgotten my notebook, so I grab whatever I can find, a napkin, a brochure, a menu, or whatever I can get my hands on and write down my thoughts. Ideas are precious and shouldn’t be squandered.

I was writing my Mansfield column the other day and I recalled lying on a chaise lounge in my backyard many years ago. It was the early sixties. Transistor radios were all the rage and I had my radio lying next to me tuned in to WBZ, which was about the only game in town at the time.

The intro to the hit song, The Girl From Ipanema by Astrud Gilberto and Stan Getz started to play and the DJ said, “ …and now a tune by Stan Getz and the lovely Astrud Gilberto – the girl with a voice like cool water flowing over soft fur.”

What? Water? Fur? I wondered if this guy had ever had a good whiff of a dog after a rainstorm. Not pretty! Not pretty at all! Who the heck was writing this guys material?

 I was going to use that story as a tie-in to a piece about the onset of the transistor radio in the sixties for my Mansfield column next week, but I guess that’s out the window. I’ve already spilled the proverbial beans. Oh well, at least I got to use it.

The other day I took a ride over to Hannaford on Robert Drive just before they closed. I don’t usually go to the store that late if I can avoid it, but this was an emergency. We were out of Spray N’ Wash.

You’d really have to have known me for a long time or, better yet; you’d have to have lived with me in order to understand the severity of there being no stain remover in my house. There are two things we cannot be without – water and Spray N’ Wash. Oh, and toilet paper. And probably food, because without food what’s the sense in having toilet paper.

So there are four things we need – water, Spray N’ Wash, toilet paper and food. Oh, and coffee. Must have coffee! So five things – water, Spray N’ Wash, food, toilet paper and coffee. That’s all I need.

Back in the day, when I had to wear a jacket and tie (I shudder at the thought) I developed the habit of eating lunch in my car. I was generally on the road and grabbing something on the run was standard operating procedure for me. It was much easier than trying to stop somewhere to eat and then being interrupted and having to run out the door before finishing my food. There were no cell phones in those days, but we had pagers, aka ‘leashes’. I hated those damn things!

Inevitably, I’d be driving down the road and someone would cut me off or stop short in front of me and I’d spill hot coffee all over my tie and down the front of my shirt. And nearly every tie I owned was spotted with the residue of two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles and onions on a sesame seed bun. Those special sauce stains were just about impossible to get out. I guess that’s what made it  ‘special’.

Things haven’t changed a whole lot since those days. I no longer have to eat on the run and I don’t eat Big Macs any longer, but I still have a propensity for getting at least one stain on the front of my shirt when I eat. No matter what it is; it ends up on my shirt – like a badge of honor, or dishonor as the case may be.

 So that’s why being out of Spray N’ Wash is an emergency at my house.

 And this, my friends, was a column about nothing. I warned you!

 Make it a great week!

Bob Havey is an Easton-based freelance writer. His column, "The View From Here", appears each Tuesday at http://easton-ma.patch.com and his other column "Take Me Back" runs every Friday at http://mansfield-ma.patch.com.