by Richie Zaborowske

So this young buck from Illinois sat down next to me. Probably drove up in his Tesla, or whatever. Don’t know how he ended up at Smitty's Tap. He stuck out, that’s for sure. But, you know how it goes. We got to drinking, got to talking. The guy started asking questions about my previous employment. Hypothetically, could I provide three references? Stuff like that. At the time, I didn’t think too much of it. By then, I had been on that bar stool for half the day, and like I said, the guy was from Illinois. Odd duck, you could say. Told me my beard made me look wise. Ha—I got a kick out of that. I’ve been called a lot of things, never been called wise, that’s for sure.

We start talking about this and that, then the guy gets on about how back in the day, like way back in the day, in England or something, it was all the rage for these wealthy landowners to hire a hermit. The person would dress as a druid, and live on the landowner’s property. You didn’t have wealth, not actual wealth, unless you could afford a real live garden hermit. No shit, I said, ain’t that something. Right then the bartender came over. We ordered another round. We started talking about football for a bit. And I’m just about to tell the guy what I really think of Aaron Rodgers, when he cut me off and told me he traveled up here to hire one. I had no idea what he was talking about. A what? I asked. A hermit, he said. He had read Elon Musk was hiring one, and he wanted to employ one too. I’ll be damned, I thought. He looked at my beard again, then he asked, how would I like to apply for the hermit position? He explained that he could offer medical, dental, a competitive salary—matching 401k to boot. We could negotiate a sign-on bonus. He had all the paperwork in the car. 

I didn’t know what to say, so I just took a drink of my Bud. It was a lot to unpack. I’ve been many things these past fifty years. Lots of different jobs. It never crossed my mind to be a hermit. Hell, if I’m being honest, I didn’t even know that was an option. So I asked him, what would I have to do as a hermit? Well, he said, you’d have to live in my garden, full-time. It’s a big garden, he said. Several acres on the outskirts of the city. There’s a grotto and the hut has gas and electric—it’s fully furnished too—Wi-Fi, flat-screen TV, everything. The place I’m renting now doesn’t even have Wi-Fi. So now I’m interested. I ask what else? He told me that he might visit me from time to time, to seek my advice. That’s all part of it, he said, a hermit is like a sage. That’s easy enough, I told him. I’d also have to wear a tunic, he said, and a full hermit’s getup. I’d be required to burn incense in the hut. Couldn’t shave my beard, obviously. It’d be best if I carried around a large old book. Like the Bible, but not the Bible. It’s not supposed to be a religious thing. Fine, fine, I’m nodding along and agreeing. I figure, so far, so good. Hell, I’ll wear a tunic, what do I care? What else I ask? He was a little hesitant, but then he told me I’d have to entertain his guests. Make an appearance when he hosts people at his place. It’d be best if I act mysterious—and I’d have to stay in character the entire time. I can do that. No problem, I said. Anything else? No, not really he said. Then he goes, oh yeah, you wouldn’t be able to drink.

Hold On To Your Socks: Richie Zaborowske Discusses The Midwest and Hermits

Grace Schutte: What do you do for a living? How do you find time to write?

Richie Zaborowske: I'm a full time librarian and I have two small children. Typically, as soon as my kids go to bed, I begin writing. This gives me a good two hours or so each night. It doesn't always work out. My five-year-old daughter, although she has been in bed now for twenty minutes, has interrupted me three times while I've tried to answer these interview questions. She just hollered down to me that her socks are on. Well, I hollered back, take them off. No, she said, I can't reach...

GS: What do you find compelling about the Upper Midwest/the Midwest in general and why do you write about it?

RZ: Until I began writing, I didn't realize how much the Midwest has influenced me. I've done a lot of bartending, so I've been around a lot of people. Listening to them talk, and argue, fall in love, and fight. So that all comes out in my writing. The dialect, the clothes people wear, the places, etc.

GS: What led you to write "Let Me Tell You About the Time I Almost Became a Hermit"?

RZ: I was looking for weird facts on Google, trying to come up with a story idea. Then I came across an article about how it was a status symbol in the 18th century to have a hermit living in your garden. Also, I find with humor it's best to start with a title. Sitting down to a blank page, and letting your imagination run free is great for "literary" fiction. Sometimes with literary fiction it's best to title the piece last. But with humor, it's best to have an idea first. And if you have a strong title, it makes it all the more easier.

GS: Have you been published in Barstow & Grand before? What has been your experience with our publication?

RZ: This was my second story in Barstow & Grand. Both times the editors were a joy to work with. I love the production value of the journal; the artwork, font, and especially all the great writing that Barstow & Grand is finding.

GS: What advice do you have to people looking to submit for this next issue?

RZ: For me, I find it best to hammer out a first draft. Put it away for a week or two. Then edit, edit, edit. Also, when you submit to Barstow & Grand, or any journal, purchase a couple back issues. It helps the journal, and is a great way to find out what they're looking for.