Suggested Song: I Can’t Help Myself, The Four Tops.
Suggested Drink: Remy Martin XO cognac. (To warm you up, all the way down.)

Dauntless (adjective): incapable of being intimidated or subdued.
Merriam-Webster Dictionary

My brother has started work on another home in France. Fixer-uppers doesn’t do these projects justice. The homes are reduced to little more than gangly frames, with interior walls knocked down, ceilings peeled back, floors dug up, and the entire layouts reimagined. Then the fun begins. The man is dauntless.

What drives someone to madness? Captain Ahab was consumed by a white whale, Kurtz with a lust for absolute power, and Earhart to conquer the skies. As for Joe? He has a keen eye for crumbled possibilities and loves a big challenge. Add in equal parts (1) handy with tools, (2) a Scots-Irish work ethic, and (3) an allergy to passive retirement (two days on a cruise ship would cover him in hives), and you have the perfect propellant for a one-man wrecking ball and rebuilding crew.

NY Times reporter, 1923: “WHY do you want to climb Mount Everest?”
George Mallory: “Because it’s there.”

These projects aren’t motivated by expectations of grand financial reward (he’d be happy to take it). Joe’s last 2 remodels – in France’s Normandy and Charente regions – crafted architecturally stunning homes that sold at premiums to the purchase prices, but minus the costs of tools, materials, and hired tradesmen (divided over time and to the power of Joe’s physical labor) did not generate significant upside.

Nor has any residence yet produced the perfect forever home perhaps Joe and wife Barbara anticipate when reviewing blueprints. This new project will be home #8 together, and she’s inquired more than once through through the years if this might be their final move. Definitely, until Joe spots another beautifully dilapidated dwelling that rouses the imagination.

You might ask if he’s hoping to leave a legacy with his impressive set of rehabilitated habitats. The stoic will insist that he’s not. Brought into this world in ’52, departed in TBD, raise a toast to a life well spent, and done. (To quote the tombstone epitaph from one of our hometown’s colorful characters: Darn it all, plunked in.)

No, there is no Ahab obsession or divine provenance at play in Joe’s labors. No Ark building at the commands of a greater power. He enjoys doing it and does it exceedingly well. I think it’s simply something he cannot not do. The itch that demands a scratch. It’s his soul fuel.

Despite our brotherly differences in talents and interests, in this we share. I commit a lot of money and time to my music projects. A hefty investment goes into each album to pay for session musicians, studio time, rehearsal space, home recording equipment, guitars, keyboards, and other stuff. None of my releases have yet covered their costs, but still I compose new songs, plan new projects, and dream of possibilities.

The same can be said for my writing. Postcards from a Runaway essays have been published monthly since 2011, first on my personal website here and now on Substack. Good writing requires time and tinkering, and occasionally I hit that mark. After hundreds of hours of pen to paper over a dozen-plus years, total readership sums to a few hundred subscribers. Still, I write daily, chipping away on new essays and musical scripts, and publishing playbooks on life change and startup creation. Like picking up a guitar or sitting at the piano, it’s simply something I cannot not do. The ghost that demands you engage. It’s my soul fuel.

there’s a ghost out in the hall
a shadow on your wall
I’m a candle in night
see me dancing in the light
can you see me now?
– From C’mon C’mon, I’m Here!, on my upcoming album.

Joe would love to double his money on the new home I’m sure. He’s rebuilding it regardless. I’d love for an essay or song to go viral. It’s unexpected, but still I create. At least Joe’s brick and mortar triumphs will provide warm family sanctuaries for generations to come. My creative trace may dissipate quickly like digital stardust to the wind. Still, we’re lucky to have our soul fuel, our blind passions, especially post the career years. They may extend our days above terra firma (having life purpose is known to extend lifespan), and keep us up early and mildly interesting. And if not, we’re at least having fun before the darn it all, plunked in.

What you got going on?

Bill Magill
Aix-en-Provence