ONE…ONE ONE…ONE ONE… IT’S THE JACKE WILSON SHOW!!!!!
Episode 4 is here! I’m back to my four a.m. silent-house stage whisper. You didn’t think that afternoon voice would last forever, did you? Luckily I have a good microphone and an up-close personality. Or you can use it as white noise, to drift away to dreamland. I’m good either way.
In this episode we wrap up our look at “The Worst Thing I’ve Ever Done” and veer into my psychological battle with my old officemate, the “real” Jerry Seinfeld, which might be the worst thing I’ve ever done, or maybe it’s the worst thing for him. (The Blood Cake (A History of Jacke in 100 Objects #3)) for those keeping score.) And we look at Christmas in Munich, give a quick shoutout to Little Pickle Press, preview a forthcoming guest (I’m working on it!), describe some night-time country-road driving (and an encounter with some UFOs), and detail the time my big sister invented a language and I struggled to keep up. Disasters everywhere. Ah well. It’s the Jacke Wilson Way.
I started reading, and I could not stop. I had my daughter read the first two sentences, and she could not stop. Same with my wife. My favorite was the ear: icing on the cake. An ID-photo goodbye cake is just the tacky thing to expect in retrospect. It reminds me of all the people one would never know if work were not necessary to pay the rent.
It’s hard to imagine a nicer compliment. Thank you!
We’re fast-forwarding now, past high school, past college, past the years in Chicago and Italy and Taiwan, which is when I had this exchange with my older cousin:
COUSIN: You know, when you were a kid, you were so freaking smart. We all thought you were a genius.
ME: Really? I’m flattered. Long pause.
COUSIN: So what happened?
Past all that, and the years spent flailing away at one doomed scheme or another, the twenty-five countries I bounced through, the senator I worked for, and the time my father asked me what a writer does for health insurance:
ME: I’m living off my savings. See, here’s the plan. I’ve spent the past two years saving up money so I’ll have time to write. It’s my dream.
FATHER: What if you get sick?
ME: I’m hoping I don’t. It’s a calculated risk.
FATHER: Risk for who?
FATHER: If something happens to you, you will sink our family.
ME: I guess you’re saying I should find a job with health insurance.
FATHER: I think that’s more than a guess.
It took me a while to find my footing. But I did find it. And by the time of this story, I had ended up in what I thought was a soft landing. A happy marriage, a child on the way, and a decent job with good people and a product I believed in. Health insurance! Oh, and I shared an office with Jerry Seinfeld. Continue reading →