Every Day In May

Every Day In May

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I’m trying an experiment and setting a goal. I want to write and post a blog every day in May. One of my longer-term life goals is to write a book some day— probably a memoir. But, as they say, practice makes perfect, and I need to improve on all things writing: my storytelling, sentence structure, syntax, grammar (and no thanks to spell check) my spelling. Maybe Harper Lee could sit down and knock out a best-seller at first try, but most authors I am sure, write many books before they see their name on any awards list.

Each day I will gather some thoughts into what i hope will be a read-worthy post. Along the way I will hone my skills a bit, see if I can sustain writing every day, and share a bit more about who I am and what keeps my world spinning. In advance, thank you for reading.


I think I’ve lost my sunglasses. I don’t want to admit defeat just yet, but it doesn’t look good. Andrew and I were grocery shopping on Saturday, and I was in a rush at the check-out counter. Typically I put my sunglasses either on my head, or back in my purse. But this day, I put them in my pocket. I am pretty sure that somewhere between the store and our van, they fell out of my pocket.

I went back to the shopping center today, to see anyone had turned them in, or, if by some magical wonder I would see them laying in the parking lot somewhere, but nope. In the grand scheme of things I know it isn’t a big deal. I have an extra

“Back up” pair of sunglasses I can use until my next eye check up. But man, I just hate losing things! I don’t want to jinx myself (so, *knock on wood*) but I can count on one hand the amount of times I have ever lost, say, a set of keys, or, a piece of jewelry, or an office supply (I know, random list). But you get my point.

With my sunglasses missing I just feel a little off kilter. I am sure this is compounded because I’m also missing two other things in my house: a remote control door opener for my van and a remote control for a set of lights in my guest room/studio. I can only hope the remotes are hanging out together somewhere.

When something like this happens I try to ask myself what the lesson is. I think the lesson on this one is that I need to slow down. Rushing always breeds the potential for a bad outcome. Slow down and focus. And hope the finding fairy’s are watching out for me and my sunglasses, along with those two remote controls, and all are found soon.


In other happenings, I wrote earlier about how I am working on a huge project of digitizing all my family photos. Well, tonight I dug into the two albums I have from my maternal grandmother. I knew from prior glances through the albums that I wouldn’t know 90 percent of the people in them. As I looked closer, while removing the photos from the albums, that estimate is almost accurate. Of course I can most easily recognize my grandparents and my mother, but all of the photos of my grandma in her youth and young 20s— no way. And unfortunately Gram didn’t do a very good job of captioning the photos. It is giving me a newfound appreciation for why I should go to the effort of identifying everyone in mine.

Still, a few do have some information on the back, even if it just indicates what year the photo was printed. Most are of the 1930s: Model-T’s are prominent, as are references to bootlegging. I have a feeling Gram liked to party when she was young.

I look at those photos with a mix of awe, curiosity, and longing. It makes me wish I had been wiser when I was younger, and asked my Grandma more details about her photo albums when she was alive. Yes, the photos still exist, but the stories don’t. They died with her. Sometimes I wonder if the photos have a life without their storyteller.

I wouldn’t be going to all this work to preserve them if I didn’t ultimately believe that yes, they still have a story to tell. I am just going to have to find some family members to help me fill in the narrative a bit. That, combined with some ancestry homework and genealogy sleuthing, learning more (than maybe my Gram even wanted me to know) about the early camera-worthy moments of her life, might just be possible.

You can count on me keeping you posted.