As you all know, I’ve spent the past six-plus years writing my second novel, Last Sunset in San Miguel, about expats who flee to magical San Miguel de Allende, Mexico with their last dreams, the ones that really must come true. A major theme of the book has to do with La Querencia, the place in the ring where the bull feels safe, where just before the end of the fight he breaks away, thinks he won, and thereby lives the best part of his life.

And now that the novel is done and in the queue to come out in February, I find I still have many thoughts and opinions about what’s going on in the Querencia of my own generation, among those of us who bear the cheeky moniker “Boomers.” (I think we should change that, don’t you?) We were the overwhelmingly largest cluster of humans to ever descend upon the planet at the same time, with a correspondingly huge impact on virtually every aspect of American life as we moved through the decades. We made waves— yes, crashed a few— but, I believe, have more to make. I dedicated my novel to us:

To my generation, who really did change the world, even if we couldn’t make it stick.

As I said in my first newsletter (then called a “blog”) back in 2017, “I’m a relentless pattern identifier and dot connector.” So I’ve decided to join the crowd and start a Substack, the commentary forum of our time. For its title, I took the liberty of fiddling with The Who’s Pete Townshend’s words to “My Generation” a bit, and soon you will see the launch of:

Why am I doing this? I’m in love with my generation. I mean, the audacity of thinking—no, of assuming—we could change the world. I’m giving us a hug.

I also believe we have a unique and still-relevant take on what’s going on today as a lot of the issues we felt had been settled (or at least “improved upon”) are circling back.  And why wouldn’t we? We were raised with the certainty of a Third World War that would be nuclear and wipe out the world, so the clock was always ticking. Polio shots saved us. Vietnam made us hyper-cautious about unnecessary wars. You get the picture. And that’s just the tough stuff. What about the thrill of the Space Race, the promise of Civil Rights, the First Earth Day, the pure joy of the British Invasion that changed pop music forever and has had us humming ever since?  

I’m not just talking nostalgia. We not only were relevant back then, we led the charge. Now we’re the wise crones. We may not want to rule any more, but we have an experienced point of view and, I’m certain, a crackling sense of humor about it all.

And I don’t know about you, but there are misconceptions about us that bug me, even the good ones. All those memes about how easy our lives have been and how much money we have because we could get mortgages. I see how generalizations could be made, but seriously, do you remember it being all that easy?

So, lots of talkin’ to be done about how we see things through the filter of our particular decades of existence. And, on Substack we can chat back and forth with an ever-larger audience. I can’t wait.

But it’s not the only reason I’m excited about Substack.

After all this solitary novel writing, I need a change. I got myself through Covid by writing to you through this newsletter with what I call a mixture of pathos and humor.  I hope you’ll remember those posts:

• Sequester Wastrel: Yes, My Second Novel Should Be Done, But It Isn’t. Bite Me
• Pandemic Phase III: Extrovert in Captivity. Murder on My Mind. And STOP Asking if the Second Novel is Done, or I Will Bite YOU.
• PLAGUE ENDS: Sleeping Beauty Awakes, but with More Heft and No Prince. RE_ENTRY Can Be a Slippery Slope for the Pandemic Underachiever. Are You Ready?

These continue to make my newsletter designer crack up, and I have to admit they are some of my best work. It’s true they caused consternation among my friends who admitted they’d been colluding behind my back to question my sanity, but I had a ball. And I can’t think of any better tone than a humor-and-pathos mix to exemplify the current state of our generation’s affairs (though I must say I’ve heard from many of the alphabet soup of generations following us that they share the anxiety and similar, if not the same, experiences.)

So, what am I offering?

You’ll continue to see book and author news in this newsletter. That won’t change— and it will get more newsy and regular now that I’m approaching publication. But in addition, you’ll soon get an email with my first Substack post. You don’t have to do anything and it’s free. I don’t intend to be overly political—unless it’s really funny. And I do want to hear from you. In each post, I’ll provide the big picture context top-line as I muse on various topics, and we can delve into it more as time goes on. Help me fill it in—with the memory of a Twilight Zone episode that scared the bejesus out of you but taught you something about the world, where you were when you first saw A Hard Day’s Night and how many Liverpool expressions became part of your own everyday patter, how you managed your mini-skirt before the movie Blow-Up introduced panty hose.(For me the panty-hose invention was life-changing and I miss them.) You get it. Growing up there was terror, but also tons of hope and joy and important lessons learned that shouldn’t evaporate just because we aren’t the current headline-makers. Can we find it again?

I’ll share what I’m putting my energy into as my last dream. (Writing novels. I have two. What next?) And I want to hear about yours. And any other thoughts about what you’re planning for your Querencia. And for you youngin’s on the distribution list, do weigh in. I think you’ll find some relatable surprises.

I’ll explain this more in my first Substack post. Give it a look next week when it releases, share what you think. Laugh, tear up, commiserate, and stick around. It will evolve as we go. Note: the first issue will sound remarkably close to this newsletter, but then we’ll move on—all new.