Point Made

 Like many of us older people, I'm self encouraged to make arrangements for "that day." I'm saving enough money to prepay for my cremation. I have a list of small items I'd like to pass on to specific people, mostly grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. And I'm arranging for my other stuff to be taking out of wherever I live and disposed of. What I want to pass on is my creative work. Some of my photography is from what I call the wet film age. What's left is in some amazingly heavy albums. My digital photography work and collection of family photography taken by other family members and me is on the cloud. A lot of my writing is parked out in the ether, such as my stories, plays, and blogs also, but there are some things in my logbooks and notebooks that I've kept. I have no idea how many pieces I will have published, but the files will be on the cloud. Then there are my sketches and my vain attempt to watercolor paint. That is all going to New Mexi...

 To do or not to do is the question. I have some strange options on my desk. My daily tasks are easily scheduled. I peruse my email, look through Instagram and Facebook, and read Urban Milwaukee, the Guardian, and BBC. I work on whatever sketch is on the top of the pad. This is not the greatest scan of one of my most recent pieces. It does not pick up the detailed shading.  I call this  Girl with a Hijab. Most of my models are screenshots from Instagram or movies I watch. Then I work on my latest creative writing effort,  a screenplay entitled  Two Many Wives.  I've submitted a one-hour pilot to Taleflix for evaluation and possible production. I' have completed the first season of the one-hour pilot and ten half-hour episodes, and I'm working on the second season.  My friend Gail and other more professional writers would ask, why keep writing until you get the green light? As the title indicates, this is about a much more Modern Family.  So think ...

 I'm volunteering at one of my neighborhood churches for their annual used book sale. The proceeds from this effort a directed to feed the hungry. My job is to sort books into some rather broad categories.  We separate fiction from nonfiction in two piles, hardcover and softcover.  There is a special designation for Religious/Philosophy/Self Hel p, Children's , Blank, and the junk drawer of book sorting, Poetry, Plays, and Music . (This category includes mostly picture books of almost any subject, travel books that describe destinations of interest, not hotels and restaurant guides, and humor books There is a category that is custom sorted by a specialist called Reference. This pile contains dictionaries, thesaurus, grammar, and quotations. We sorters have the discretion to discard books into a recycle box. Books are deemed unsaleable because they are damaged, old, out of date, or foreign language. Frequently discarded books in good condition are computer or compute...

 Having lunch with a friend these days will bring up the question, "How did you get through COVID?" We traded tales from not giving up meeting people until outside dining inevitably became impossible in Wisconsin to the cold dark days of late November to the surprisingly warm days of late winter. My latest companion has a young family that undoubtedly became closer during the isolation periods. Working from home was a new experience for many. To some it was liberation. To others it was desperation. As a society, it seems we have divided opinions on this. When I was walking home from our meeting, I was examining my path. I write a lot of fiction. My process is to imagine my characters in certain situations and see how they will react. I do not start out with what facet of the human condition this tale demonstrates. I find that thematic gem when my characters find it and most certainly they will. or the manuscript goes on the cyber junkpile My characters become my friends and a...