The blessings of getting older

I remember the morning of my twelfth birthday like it happened yesterday. After delivering the Seattle Times between four thirty and six, when the biting Western Washington cold was at its worst, I raced into my kitchen, where breakfast and — more important — an unopened box of cereal awaited. I did so not because I was particularly hungry but rather because I wanted to fetch the prize inside the box before my siblings awoke from their Sunday slumber and beat me to it.

Those of us who grew up in the 1960s and 1970s may recall that boxes of cereal were no small things back in the day. Manufacturers often put prizes inside the boxes and 45-rpm records on the boxes themselves. Box tops were as valuable as currency, thirty-day offers as good as gold. Breakfast wasn't just a meal back then. It was an opportunity.

So I opened the box that morning, retrieved a forgettable plastic trinket, and had what may have been my first Eureka moment. Rather than celebrate my good fortune, I lamented the fact that an era — my pleasantly simple and carefree childhood — was coming to an end.

I realized that while it was perfectly acceptable for sixth-grade boys to get excited about prizes in cereal boxes, it was not so for teenagers. I was mindful, even then, of the looming specter of junior high. Within months, I would turn my attention from childish things to music and movies and clothes -- and girls. Though the prospect was troubling at first, it was also exciting. Very exciting. The future was out there.

That is the way of life. Most of us spend our years anticipating the next great thing. A driver's license. High school. College. Careers. Marriage. Children. Birthdays like 16, 18, 21, and even 30 call to us like mischievous sirens. As we proceed toward these milestone dates, we think only about what we are gaining and not about what we are losing.

Most of us, after all, do not regret leaving childhood or young adulthood — until, of course, we are no longer children or young adults. Then we want time to slow down. We pine for the times when everything was new, opportunities were limitless, and the future was a vast, empty canvas, waiting to be filled with vivid, memorable images.

And so it is with me. At age 57, I am wistful about days gone by but also hopeful about what the coming years may bring. As I should be.

If I have learned anything from observing the long and productive lives of others, from notables like the late President Bush to my own grandfather, who remained active for almost all of his ninety-nine years, it's that birthdays are guide posts and not stop signs. They are tools that allow us to measure, evaluate, and sometimes recalibrate.

As an author, a new grandfather, and a restless spirit, I remain as optimistic about possibilities as I was on the morning of December 30, 1973. There are more books to write, places to see, and things to do.

The prize, for me, is still in the box.

A December to remember

I admit that December is not my most productive month. Like a lot of people, I typically set aside nonessential tasks and save them for January, February, or later — after the holidays and a seemingly endless parade of distractions have passed. Not so this December.

Inspired in part by a positive early reception for Indian Paintbrush, released November 26, I decided to move ahead with plans to convert the book to audio and incorporate it into a three-volume boxed set. I had previously set aside both projects for early March.

Allyson Voller, who produced the The Mirror and Hannah's Moon for Audible, will again narrate one of my books. The veteran voice artist will begin work on Indian Paintbrush sometime in January.

And thanks to the speedy work of cover designer Laura Wright LaRoche, who has created or modified all but one of my covers, I was able to release the boxed set this week. Featuring River Rising, The Memory Tree, and Indian Paintbrush, the Carson Chronicles collection is my largest compilation of Kindle books to date.

I also intend to publish at least two more print books before the year is out. The Journey should be available in paperback in the next few days and The Show sometime before Christmas. I plan to convert the entire Northwest Passage series to print before starting my next novel.

As the holidays approach, I give many thanks to those who have supported my work over the years. These people include countless contributors, readers, reviewers, and bloggers who have helped to bring my books to the attention of the reading public. Some, such as the fine folks at the Reading Cafe, who posted a lengthy review and interview on their popular site today, have been particularly helpful. A special giveaway on the Canadian blog continues through December 18.

I wish a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all!