Confessions of the "Confessions Blogger"

I wonder if any readers have felt misled by the title of this Blog—“confessions of…” Perhaps they were expecting some juicy gossip, some tale of climbing to the top and then came the drugs and then the rehab and then the comeback, along with the heart-wrenching shame and guilt and stories about the mother that never loved him and the father who didn’t understand him. You know, the stuff that gets you famous at the supermarket counter. And instead, all they get is this guy blabbering on about the next epiphany of deep connection at the workshop and the hopes for the future of humanity and art’s healing ways. Where’s the dirt?

Well, I suppose it’s time to come clean and publicly confess my sins. Not only is it timely for Yom Kippur, but as the saying goes, “The more sins you confess, the more books you will sell.” If it takes a little bit of public shame to see this Blog go viral, I’m game.

Of course, the life of a teacher is low on the public interest totem pole. “I misspelled the principal’s daughter’s name on the report card and never found work as a teacher again!” And even lower is the Orff teacher. “I taught my arrangement with parallel rhythms and was blacklisted from the workshop circuit forever!” You see what I mean. Who cares?

But as I mentioned, the Day of Atonement is coming soon, so I might as well practice. So for the first time, I hereby publicly reveal the sordid details behind the dazzling success! Here goes:

• Sometimes before getting to work on my new book, I play four Solitaire games instead of the three I’ve allotted.

• Sometimes I cheat on the Crostics puzzle and look up an answer in the back.

• I often ride a bicycle in Salzburg without (gasp!)—a helmet!

• I think I’ve sometimes put refuse in the wrong bin. Compost? Recycle? Landfill? Who can keep track?

• I’ve seen some Seinfeld re-runs so often that I know the dialogue.

• I dragged Robyn Fladen-Kamm backwards over his chair and threw him on a couch in the corner of the 5^th grade classroom because he was wiggling his glass on purpose while someone was pouring milk and laughing gleefully as it spilled on his desk.

(Hmm. Maybe I better stop here before the lawyers log on.  What is the statute of limitations anyway? More than 32 years? And by the way, he wasn’t hurt, but properly shocked. He never did that milk trick again.)

Pretty strong stuff, eh? But it gets worse. I’ve broken every one of the Ten Commandments. I’ve bowed to Buddha, cursed in traffic, taught workshops on Sunday, yelled at my parents, killed mosquitoes, shoplifted comic books, coveted my neighbor (though never his donkey or male servant), spread some dirt about him and have been known to act like an adult (is that what that one means?).

Now I just have to sit and wait for the thousands of reader responses. While I’m waiting, time for one more— sometimes I’ve forgotten someone’s birthday.

But not today! Happy birthday to my daughter Kerala as she turns 31!!!!