Red Smith, the late sportswriter, is often credited with saying, "Writing's no big deal, you just sit down at the typewriter and open a vein."
Ah, Red. Not all writing is the same and not all writers open their veins. It's far simpler for me to dash off a few hundred words about a movie, like the post I just had on the film City Lights, than to write about something personal and intimate that really matters. But writers write, and I can't stop myself sometimes from writing my deepest feelings and then sharing them and seeing if they connect with others.
And so the November issue of Perspectives Journal has come out with a small article by me that is from a place that is very tender. Here's a link to it. One fear in publishing this is that people may read it and feel like I am at peace with what's happening -- I'm not. This is an ongoing story of loss.
Not sure what else to say, other than the oft quoted words of Frederick Buechner that "the story of any one of us is in some measure the story of us all."
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