I have always been a little scattered.  OK, a lot!  So, in addition to this blog, there are these.  I hope you enjoy.

Philanthropy Liaison:  A role I believe philanthropists need on their side
The Enabler's Blog:  The good connotation of the word...live fully using your God-given gifts

Come back, or comeback?

I am lucky--nay, blessed--to be able to teach my workshop titled Memories to Memoirs.
I have taught it for about eight years running, and see no end in sight, thankfully.  Each session provides me inspiration as guidance as I also try to do the same for the attendees.  The session underway at the Freeman Library in Clear Lake, as part of UHCL's Clear Lake Area Seniors Program, has encouraged me to write more in the blogosphere.  Am I coming back, or is this a comeback, of sorts?

I don't know.  And that is okay.  I created a blog in defense and support of those who contribute to the charities and causes of our society.  They are getting short shift nowadays, thrown into a kettle of fish in which they don't belong nor deserve to be associated with.  The blog is named Philanthropy Liaison. 

...whichever it is...here I come.

I love this...

This image from my journal entry while teaching photography at University of West Bohemia was about the food, and how it reminds me of the tastiness of my mom's Polish-influenced cooking. But I also like the highlighted phrase. I go to it often because it could be about old friends or new ones; photography, writing, or speaking; any of my sons or my granddaughter...life. I look at this as a reminder. I hope it reminds you.

....a pause....

The distance from my brain to my fingertips that rest on the keyboard is not very long, yet it is a chasm that is sometimes scary to jump across, intimidating, daunting and walked away from in frustration. I take this short steps, approaching the gap and then I stutter like a newbie hurdler coming to a high hurdle. I chop, try to regroup and then stop. I look across the now-wider gap and decide to return later to write again, hopefully with a shorter distance between thoughts, of which there are many, and words, of which there are few.

Lyrical Roots

Jim Croce comes out of my speakers to share wisdom in lyrics and calm in melodies. He will soon be followed by Seals and Crofts, America, CSN&Y and many more as I digitially copy old albums. What is happening is not simply posterity, but re-positioning me on the solid ground of my growing years. I learned a lot about myself by listening to tunes in my youth--as you likely did, too--and I re-learn and am re-minded (as well as reminded) of who I am in the re-listening.

In "those" days, I would write or muse while listening, and today I write with the perspectives of time past and time remaining. No matter our age, we only have a measurable amount of time remaining, and it seems to be a good thing to spend that time with surety of who you are. The tree does not stand strongly with roots solidly in the ground wondering if it is actually crabgrass.

I am assured of that message while listening to the tunes of my formative years. Sometimes because the lyrics suggest the message, but more so because the lyrics remind me of my thoughts and passions from then...which are the same things as now, though clouded by life's circumstances at times. What I was, I am; what I am, I was. Yet, I change though I remain rooted. Lyrics remind me.

The Call to Words

I've begun reading again and reading anew "Atop the Underwood" by Jack Kerouac. I've read it before and enjoyed it greatly. This time to read is providing new perspectives. The book Jack's writings between the ages of 13 and 21. Even early on he believed that he existed to write.

The book provides great insights into the writer-in-progress, a boy-becoming-man who einjoyed stories (writing or listening), words, curiosity (his own and that of others) and expression. I remember hearing from a friend that words are my exhale (that friend hung around...she's now my wife!), and I've always appreciated that insight. I fell in love with photography at the age of six and with words not long thereafter through stories and conversation with Mom and Dad. Writing hooked me in 8th grade (Thank you Mrs. Owens). In Jack's words, I am gently reminded of my past, and therefore a better view of my future.

Let's not forget two things: 1. young people can feel strong urges about their abilities and purposes and we can play a role in encouraging them, and 2. we shouldn't forget the things that moved us strongly as young adults and adults-in-the-making...there is a rich source of energy, direction and affirmation there.

Words Matter

Sometimes, all we really have are the words we choose to share that are supposed to convey our thoughts, feeling, emotions, fears, joys, sorrows and wisdom to selected, and surprise, audiences. Those are a gift when shared.

Dion (my eldest son...I do not talk about myself in Bob Dole style), went without sleep as his wife worked without sleep in the labors of...labor....to bring to the world the life they created in their daughter Lillian. As we chatted--he exhausted and his eyelids at half mast at best--he agreed that his getting sleep after a long day at the hospital would serve him and his mom-wife quite well. He smiled a depleted smile and said, "I will probably need to write some first."

He is an excellent writer, with the courage to share his ideas and his thoughts AND his feelings. I may be a bit biased, but he shares his words with nuance, skill and pride. That he would know in his heart that writing about today's delivery mattered to him, his family and perhaps some audiences indicates his understanding that words matter. His do, yours do...words matter.