You don't have to look too closely to see that I don't blog much... we live in a hustle-bustle world where everyone is busy all the time either going someplace, coming home from work with just enough energy left to fix dinner and hit the sack before getting up to do it all again, or taking precious time out for family, friends, a special animal companion, the community, that project... or finally and just maybe, themselves. A few minutes of quiet at the end of a long day. A moment to reflect on something important that happened, something significant somebody said, a special moment shared, not to be forgotten. The thrill of a lover's touch. An epiphany. The shock of a great loss. Those moments of utter stillness or crystal clarity that come upon us when least expected. The Blues... that deep and weighty inexplicable sadness that somes out of nowhere and rides on our shoulders until it fades into the background until the next time...
So who has time to blog?? When my friend Bill helped me put up my first website he said "you know you really have to have a blog", and after the initial terror wore off I asked him why... "well, everyone has one - go look at their websites - people are interested". So I went to their websites and I saw what he meant. But I still wasn't convinced I had anything interesting to add to the Blogpot. Well, what the heck.
Last week I received the most beautiful letter - yes, you read that right, an actual letter! In my mailbox nestled between special offers, coupons and bills, a pretty little envelope addressed to me in delicate cursive.
They’re going to eliminate the requirement for learning cursive in schools now. Our childrens’ childrens’ children will be born with little pads on the tips of their typing fingers. Their thumbs will be big and long like monkey thumbs so they can type faster on their phones – no, wait, that’s silly. Nobody will type any more. They’ll dictate it all and it will just appear on the screen. Eventually handwriting will be obsolete all together. Like the kisses shared in the soft light of black and white movies, the girl looking up at the guy with her eyes half closed and her mouth all pouty. Like places we use to live that were plowed down years ago for a high rise or a parking lot. Like old movie theaters. Like gas stations with attendants. Like Playland Park.
But let me get back to that letter I received. The one with the real stamp and the cursive. It was a special letter from my beautiful niece, writing to say she had read my blogs and something in there had touched her and inspired her. She loved a story I’d shared and it had moved her to let me know this in a real letter, on real stationary, inside a lovely card she made herself. Her letter made my day. Actually so far she’s made my week and it’s a good bet she’ll make my year. She already lives in my heart and I love her dearly. And I can tell you for sure that from now on, whenever I get up the gumption to post something on this blog, I will think of her. Thanks, Emily.
It's two weeks 'til Christmas. There are decorations everywhere - lots of glitz and lots of lights. Even here in Austin there's a brisk and breathless chill in the air. I wish for a moratorium on fighting and killing each other. I wish for the big ugly agressive pickup trucks on I10 to back off my bumper. I wish for the smiles, hugs and good cheer - the help and comraderie - to endure, long after the last note fades from the last chorus of the last holiday song of the Season. I wish you a year of good health, happiness and hope, and a reminder that even the pain of a broken heart, a broken limb, a broken promise will fade like the end of a dark day, and the clouds will part for the sun once more.
So who has time to blog?? When my friend Bill helped me put up my first website he said "you know you really have to have a blog", and after the initial terror wore off I asked him why... "well, everyone has one - go look at their websites - people are interested". So I went to their websites and I saw what he meant. But I still wasn't convinced I had anything interesting to add to the Blogpot. Well, what the heck.
Last week I received the most beautiful letter - yes, you read that right, an actual letter! In my mailbox nestled between special offers, coupons and bills, a pretty little envelope addressed to me in delicate cursive.
They’re going to eliminate the requirement for learning cursive in schools now. Our childrens’ childrens’ children will be born with little pads on the tips of their typing fingers. Their thumbs will be big and long like monkey thumbs so they can type faster on their phones – no, wait, that’s silly. Nobody will type any more. They’ll dictate it all and it will just appear on the screen. Eventually handwriting will be obsolete all together. Like the kisses shared in the soft light of black and white movies, the girl looking up at the guy with her eyes half closed and her mouth all pouty. Like places we use to live that were plowed down years ago for a high rise or a parking lot. Like old movie theaters. Like gas stations with attendants. Like Playland Park.
But let me get back to that letter I received. The one with the real stamp and the cursive. It was a special letter from my beautiful niece, writing to say she had read my blogs and something in there had touched her and inspired her. She loved a story I’d shared and it had moved her to let me know this in a real letter, on real stationary, inside a lovely card she made herself. Her letter made my day. Actually so far she’s made my week and it’s a good bet she’ll make my year. She already lives in my heart and I love her dearly. And I can tell you for sure that from now on, whenever I get up the gumption to post something on this blog, I will think of her. Thanks, Emily.
It's two weeks 'til Christmas. There are decorations everywhere - lots of glitz and lots of lights. Even here in Austin there's a brisk and breathless chill in the air. I wish for a moratorium on fighting and killing each other. I wish for the big ugly agressive pickup trucks on I10 to back off my bumper. I wish for the smiles, hugs and good cheer - the help and comraderie - to endure, long after the last note fades from the last chorus of the last holiday song of the Season. I wish you a year of good health, happiness and hope, and a reminder that even the pain of a broken heart, a broken limb, a broken promise will fade like the end of a dark day, and the clouds will part for the sun once more.