Panic. Disappointment.
There has got to be something out there to write about, but I just
couldn't come up with anything. For the last consecutive 166 weeks I
have always had something to say. Include the 2 ½ years of writing
for the newspaper before that and it has been many weeks when I have
managed to write about something.
Admittedly, some has
been good and others, well, not so good. But I always had something
to say. But this past week, for last Sunday's usual post, I had
really disappointed myself. After 166 weeks...nothing!
Some of the time I get
my ideas and 'inspiration' from the news, whether it be world, state
of local. But it was a terrible week in the news. The devastating
earthquakes in Nepal, the train crash in Philadelphia, a “shoot-out'
of biker gangs in Texas, a Governor threatening to campaign against
those 'we elect' to represent us if they don't pass his version of a new taxation
plan.
No question about it.
The news has been terrible and maybe really affected the way I saw
the world last week. I'll admit it. Perhaps I need to turn off the
television or turn down the radio for a few days. Even the Red Sox
have had a terrible road trip on the West Coast.
But then, while riding
in the car, there was a very heart warming story on MPR about a small
town coming together to help a family struggling with the serious
illness of their young son and the financial toll it was taking on
the family. And the purpose of the story, to show there are people in small towns across the country who still care, who still help.
I don't always get my
ideas from the news reporting. I could have written about the scene
in the parking lot at the local food store, where a teenage boy, and
I assume his mother, were engaged in a loud, verbal and quickly
moving toward a physical confrontation argument, loud enough that it attracted
a great deal of attention from those walking to and from the store to
their cars. Someone must have called the police, for just at that moment a
police car came around the corner. As the office got out of his
car, the mother got into her vehicle and drove away, leaving the boy
standing in the parking lot. (My suspicion is that the police may
already know the family.)
One of my favorite
spots for inspiration comes from the local auction. Each Sunday from
March until December several hundred people from near and far gather
to talk, spend money, brag about their latest rare find and to share in
the joy of one of Robin's famous egg, cheese and ham breakfast sandwiches.
But this week, with the exception of the sandwich, there was little,
if any inspiration. In fact, folks seemed to be a bit testy. But that
may have been only me. All these new people, where are they coming
from? Someone needs to teach them how to 'bid'.
On the corner of my desk sits
a wooden block, the size a child might use to build a fort or
castle, a gift from my daughter. This block has pictures and author's names and partial
titles of many of the classic, squeezed on to the 6 sides of the two
inch block. Yes...it's a writer's block! And despite how firmly I
held it in my hand, there was no inspiration from Steinbeck or any others.
I really felt as though
I had let myself down this week, and my readers too. I had set a
goal, but.....something went wrong this week.
I had two choices. I
could sit around all day and fret, frustrating myself even more
or...I could get outside in the fresh air, under a bright blue sky,
and work in the garden, pulling the few remaining weed of last year
and begin planting this year's crop of brightly colored annuals. I
opted for choice number two. And besides, the Red Sox game wouldn't
be on until later in the day. Let's see. 4 pm West Coast time is....wow...really late here! :)
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