Almanac Books: On the Launch of Matt Zurbo’s Book ‘If I could…’

 

“My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that, and I intend to end up there.”
Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi

 

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Saturday. Email inbox. I receive another rejection, having entered another short story in another competition. That makes three rejections in a matter of weeks. Nothing but rejections since 2021. Rejections after months of concentrated work; deliberate, careful, effortful work, to craft the best submissions I could make.

 

“Dear entrant, thank you for your submission. We received many excellent stories. Unfortunately, your story was not selected…”

 

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“You miss one hundred per cent of the shots you don’t take.”
Ice hockey legend Wayne Gretzky.

 

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Gust, gust, another sudden gust.
Fallen leaves dance, twist, lift from the bluestone path –
Gold, brown, every shade of orange

 

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Sunday. I attend the launch of Old Dog’s book for children named If I could… with Sarah. We meet my sister there, and my young nephew, 4 years old.

 

If I could… is a beautiful book and a beautiful story. The story was first written as the 365^th and last of a daily story-writing and publishing exercise that Old Dog Matt Zurbo undertook for his then baby daughter, Cielo. Writing and posting a children’s story each day for 365 consecutive days! Can you believe it? On top of working a physically-demanding and time-consuming job, and having a baby at home! The effort defies ordinary ideas of time and of what-is-possible. Can you imagine?

 

I read some of those stories as they were posted and loved them. Towards the end of his 365-days-in-a-row enterprise, Old Dog’s adventure was picked up by the New York Times. And now the 365^thentry, If I could…, is a book, published by Macmillan USA.

 

 

On Sunday, dressed as an astronaut on stage at the Merri Creek Tavern, Old Dog says that he took on the challenge partly as a demonstration to his daughter of ‘commitment to task’. Commitment. Not for reward. Reward was in the doing. For the task itself.

 

Old Dog and I met thanks to The Footy Almanac site here, to which we were (and remain) each drawn, and have each contributed stories for over 10 years.

 

Old Dog is prolific. He works tough jobs, plays local footy (more than 700 games) and he is a published author. Commitment to task, values and the gift of story can all be found in M. Zurbo.

 

 

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It is a pleasure to see him on stage. And a little confronting to compare my own output with his. Comparisons are the stuff of disaster, of course, and should not be made, but are also part of the human condition.

 

Old Dog’s launch has me wondering about craft, dedication and drive. About initiative and support. About observation and opportunity.

 

I am very happy for M. Zurbo. His book is for sale at say, Readings in Melbourne. Or via zurbo.ink, I guess.

 

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Sunday is the second time we have met in person (after this meeting in 2019 at the North Fitzroy Arms). And today’s launch is a pure celebration. Live music, readings, testimonials. Here is Cielo herself, playing guitar on stage and singing to us! Zombie by The Cranberries. And now the author is dressed in a head-to-toe crocodile costume – as lead character from another of his books: “Fred the croc” – and is inviting the room to dance. The band plays Elton John’s Crocodile Rock.

 

 

Earlier, I’d met and chatted with a couple in their 70s who had also travelled for the launch. As the croc dances and the music fades, the couple stand up to leave. The man shakes my hand and speaks into my ear: “You don’t have to be mad – but it helps!” It is five-time premiership player and former coach for Richmond, AFL Team of the Century wingman, Francis Bourke.

 

The band starts up again. As men, women and children dance and sang, Old Dog grabs the microphone. “Live life, people. Live your life and stories will follow!”

 

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Monday. Dusk in the city. Cars in gridlock. Standing on the platform, I wait for a tram. At precisely the same moment that I feel a small tap on the brim of my hat, I hear a faint splat.

 

I remove the hat to reveal that a small deposit has been made on the brim.

 

The roulette wheel of good luck/bad luck spins again.

 

 

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Tuesday. Leaves dance. The wind blows.

 

Thanks, Old Dog. You have me smiling and thinking again. Best wishes on the book.

 

 

 

Check out more stories from ER at substack Here.

 

More from ER on the Footy Almanac can be read Here.

 

 

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