Hodgepodge refers to a mixed, jumbled assortment of disparate things. I had a friend with whom I used to chat via email. Often I would put the subject title as hodgepodge. It was a warning that I had nothing particular to say, but rather had lots of varied thoughts and ideas to share. Inspired by a recent blog post of Wil Wheaton, I thought I would try that here.
Have you ever been mesmerized by someone telling a story? I used to work at WUAL, an NPR station in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. For one of our segments, our producer would record Kathryn Tucker Windham telling stories. I loved hearing about her childhood in Thomasville, Alabama. I had read her book, “13 Alabama Ghosts and Jeffrey,” but these stories she told Sam were different—simple stories about her life growing up. Of course, she told them wonderfully, with her Southern drawl and heavily inflected voice.
Being creative is not easy. We are often too critical of ourselves and our creative output. Our work never meets our own expectations. It is tempting to compare ourselves to others. Sometimes I wonder why I do anything . . . or why I think I can do anything worthwhile.
Stephen Colbert, on The Late Show, has a segment called the Colbert Questionnaire. One of the questions is, “If you only had one song to listen to for the rest of your life, what would it be?” I find that an intriguing thought. What song would I never tire of hearing? Could I limit it to one?
I have written a hundred essays for my blog since December 2020. These essays include thoughts about creativity, inspiration, music, songwriting, life, nature, genealogy, language, architecture, and social commentary. They represent a part of my creativity. Expressing ideas through whatever means I have available is important to me. Being creative keeps me sane.
I have kept a journal sporadically through the years. Consistency is not my strong point in this area—and, if I am honest, probably in most endeavors of my life. Life has interruptions. My mood changes. Sometimes I don’t have much to write about—it gets boring rehashing the same old things day after day. My attempts to slow down and keep a journal flow from the desire to live orderly and peaceful.
My husband does all the cooking and grocery shopping. The first thing people always ask me is, “Does he also clean up the kitchen?” My answer is yes. Maybe I am a slow eater, but he always finishes before me. He will then jump up and start washing and cleaning.
Life was hard for my ancestors—especially back in the seventeenth century. One family line came to New Netherland to escape a destroyed homeland. I am not sure life here was any easier for them or their children.
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