400

Writing this blog has become a journey for me. This trip a twilight passage through the straits in an old tramp steamer was an unintentional one to say the least. It began with a stray comment in a coffee shop from my dear friend Chris. Over several years she had listened to the manager of the store and I engage in that great American tradition of narrative story telling. Mixed in to the twisted and confabulated bits of oral personal history were personal observations on daily life and rants about political issues then current. It was her impetus, almost insistence that I write something down that motivated me to take a shot at it. This is the 400th piece I have drafted.

Fear almost stopped me from creating the blog. I was unsure of my writing skills and I was unsure of what I might possibly have to say. Funny in looking up something else I came upon a quote from a writer that now serves as my ideal. He didn’t speak of inspiration when he talked about writing. Instead he spoke about just doing the work, for writing is a kind of work. He emphasized the need to be doing it regularly and getting into the routine. Perhaps it was Ray Bradbury that seems like something he would say. He was right.

My skills at some very basic things like using periods and commas are quite deficit. Books have been bought since I started to try and improve my posting. Things like Grammar Sucks and Eats Shoots and Leaves were paid for. Both volumes remain barely touched on my shelf. Truth be told I have good intentions but at self improvement I am not so good on the follow through. If you look back on my attempt to do a complete run of comments regarding Milton Mayeroff’s On Caring tied to beach stories you can see it petered out after what nine posts. I still intend to go back to that. Grammar should not stop a person from writing. Computers these days will help you quite a bit; I know they have done wonders for me.

On those days when I have something to talk about writing this blog is a joy. When one of the kids accomplishes something I know the pride just drips from the letters on the printed page. If I am reflecting on a moment in the past with clarity it feels like I have opened a little puzzle box and found a prize inside. When I talk about music I feel passion for while I do not play and even with my hearing degrading. When I get up on my soapbox about our need to work with people identified as ASD I feel so much about the plight of the different folks that occupy our world in non typical situations. On the days I start down these roads it is just a joy. Not every day is like that and I know some stuff that I have put up has been filler. I hope you will forgive me. What surprises me sometimes is how much something I did as a “one off” still resonates for me.

About half the pictures I put up I steal off the web. The rest of my images I capture on my iphone and then tweak on the iphone using an adobe photo app I purchased some months ago. One picture I took of the canyon created by buildings on the north and south side of Ottawa Street east of Capitol Avenue and the short bit below it strike me as some of the best of what I have tried to accomplish.

I would urge anyone who has any leaning toward writing or is considering a journal to do it. Just go out to www.blogger.com and create an account. It will take about an hour to familiarize yourself with how it works and then off you go. What I have created here may be gone in a second one day when Google fails and shuts down its servers. But the Buddhist part of me is okay with that. In the meantime I will keep writing.



Thank you for stopping by from time to time.