I believe we are all creative. I want to inspire you to make time for creativity. There is no better time to start than now and it is never too late. Let’s take the journey together!
I grew up in the 1960s in the South . . . in Alabama. Being a child during that decade, I could not fully understand the political or racial issues playing out around me. I heard and saw snippets on the news about Gov. George Wallace, bus boycotts, freedom marches, and segregated lunch counters. Of course, the elementary school I attended was segregated. It wasn’t until my sixth-grade year in 1968-69 that schools in our town were desegregated. There was not a huge change at my school, only a few African American children switched schools that year. The following year the entire city was redistricted which meant many students went to schools they were not expecting to attend. It did not change the school for me—however this greatly enlarged the number of students and included kids who were from other areas of town besides my own. This change included more well-to-do families as well as black families.
Driving to and from work four days a week is monotonous. I often remind myself to be in the moment and enjoy the ride. Here are ways that help me avoid boredom in the routine.
My mother probably had the most influence on how I became to be who I am. The person who shaped her was her mother, Belle Coker. When I was growing up everyone called her “Mama Coker” or simply “Mama.” And, indeed she was a mother to everyone in various ways.
. . . the professor said, “you should keep composing.” His words kept echoing in my mind. Just who was this person? What did he know? Why should his words change my life?
The PBS show Finding Your Roots spurred my interest in learning about my heritage and where I came from. My parents never talked much about their parents, grandparents, or any other relatives—I knew only a few things about my grandparents. Both grandfathers died when I was young—I barely remember meeting either of them. Several years ago, I set out to answer the question: Where did I come from? Looking for my connection to the past seemed not only interesting but important.
Do you send Christmas cards every year? I admit that I am not consistent at sending cards. I want to send cards, I think about it, and in my mind I plan to send them . . . unfortunately, some years (most years) it falls by the wayside. However, I love and appreciate the cards I receive from others. They are displayed on the buffet so I can enjoy them during the season. Often, along with the cards, there are Christmas newsletters folded and tucked neatly into the card. Exploits, successes, and vacations are shared—a looking backward at the past year.
The other day on a local news program, I heard the newscaster say in a report that a certain school principal was an “escape goat.” This brought many fanciful images to my mind. Was the principal a literal goat? If […]
Often I step outside and take pictures. Sometimes a beautiful sunset lures me outdoors—or the vibrant colors of autumn leaves beckon me to come closer. While I am walking around, I always look for things that aren’t so obvious—something small or hidden—perhaps interesting in shape or color. These pictures remind me of things for which I am thankful. They are images of Thanksgiving and of thanks-giving.
Is there such a thing as too many books? I guess it depends on who you ask—ask someone thinking of moving or downsizing—ask someone building more bookshelves. For heavens sake don’t ask anyone with a simple, minimalist perspective!
There have been years when I had little to be grateful for. Yes, I know that ultimately is not true . . . but when everything you have worked and hoped for is taken away, well, honestly, it is hard to be grateful. Your life is turned upside down.
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