In researching my lineage, I found interesting stories of why and when some of my relatives immigrated to the United States. I was more surprised to find out that many arrived in the 1600s during the earliest days of our country. The following is an account of life after tragedy—of leaving behind a destroyed homeland to travel across the ocean to a new country and the promise of greater opportunities.
For our vacation, my husband and I traveled across country to Pismo Beach, California. I had only seen pictures and read about the various activities available there. It seemed like the perfect place for us. We realized that if we did not go now, we may never go.
One of our reasons in traveling to California was to simply sit and watch the sun set over the water in the evenings. I have read that the sunset is one of the most photographed natural events in the world. And, on the ocean, the nightfall is even more spectacular—worthy of many pictures!
This is my hundredth blog. My first blog was posted on December 17, 2020 during the pandemic. It has been quite a journey for me and I hope for you as well! And speaking of journeys . . . it […]
In the 1920s, with the mass production of the automobile, families began to take road vacations. California and the West were isolated from the rest of the country because many roads were unmarked, not kept up, and often stopped at the foot of the mountains. Congress was persuaded to change this by building a national paved road from Chicago to Los Angeles. Route 66 was completed in 1926.
When I told someone that my husband and I were driving to California for a vacation, the person asked, “Why California?” I replied, “I want to sit and look out over the ocean. I want to watch the sunset in the evening. I want to feel small and to experience the immensity of the ocean, of the world—of life. He responded, “You can get the same thing at The Grand Canyon.” So why is California calling?
Writers love language and words—especially amusing, witty, or unusual expressions. I can remember being in elementary school and learning new words. It was an aural and intellectual feast—which became a delightful, seductive pleasure. Put simply, word-lovers delight in words! There is even a name for a person who loves words—logophile, lexiphile, or lexophile. One who is obsessed with words is a logomaniac.
How many self-help books do you have on your shelves? I have generally steered away from such books, although I do have several. The question is: If self-help books really help, then why do people keep writing them? Every year there seems like a new flurry of “ideas” are touted by the latest media gurus. I am not saying they can’t be useful or helpful. I am sure they must be helpful to a degree. I have one that I keep trying to get rid of, but I can’t quite seem to put it in the donate pile. It is a book that helped me to move forward at a point when I was unable to do so.
Some days, weeks, even months can feel monotonous and uninspired. Sometimes it is as if we are walking around in a daze–or, maybe it’s the feeling of having stepped into a deep, dark hole. If our creative senses are tired, often, all we need is something to give us focus, to inspire us, to invoke ideas—and, to help us find inspiration.
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