WORDS
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The written word and I
Are cherished friends,
Embracing each other’s thoughts and emotions
Like kindred spirits,
Dancing on clouds.
Bosom buddies who gossip and giggle
And gasp at all the same moments.
She and I are equals,
More than that, really.
We are two parts of a whole,
Complementing and complimenting the other,
Perfect beings.
 
The spoken word and I
Skirt around each other’s social circles.
We stumble around awkward pauses,
Unable to pull the perfect word or phrase
From our filing cabinet of knowledge.
Ease and grace flee without a moment’s notice.
She is more skilled than I.
She whispers her intricately woven ideas into my mind,
But her delicate strength is no match for
The hills of anxiety and the mountains of insecurity
That obstruct her path to freedom.
Before her words can reach my tongue,
They unravel into shreds of confusion,
Left unspoken.
 
If only the written word and the spoken word
Could meet…
They would live in perfect harmony.
But alas…
It is not meant to be,
Neither willing to leave her domain,
Each content to dance alone,
And I…
I am stuck in the middle,
Pulled in both directions,
Reveling in the comfort of the written word,
Needing the spoken word to survive.
But still I dream
Of the day when my words will intermingle
And a new love affair can be born.

​    
More than a year ago, my husband and I glimpsed homelessness. We had traveled to a family reunion, and in our absence, a water filtering system under the kitchen sink burst and flooded the house with 35,684 gallons of water. The damage was enormous. Over the months that followed, we lived in eight different hotels, timeshares and condos with only a suitcase of clothes between us. It was an experience that taught us a great deal about construction - and home.

For most of us, home is synonymous with comfort. The familiarity of the simple things of life settles our souls and offers rest for our busy lives. It is both the place to which we escape and the place in which we welcome friends and family. It is an extension of who we are, for we create it in our likeness.
​
If we lose our home, we lose part of ourselves. 

​In our case, all that touched the floor was destroyed – all furniture, cabinetry, all piles of papers and books waiting to be read, boxes of photographs and tax returns. Yes, almost everything was destroyed.

Numb by what we saw that fateful night when we returned to our house, I pulled paintings and photos from our walls and stacked them in my car. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I was bringing home with me.

We surround ourselves with stories – family stories, friend stories, dream stories. They live with us and become part of us. Even when we are alone in our home, it is these stories that keep us company. I didn’t know this until we lost our home.

Today I share a few of my rescued pieces and their stories, to explain my point.

                                      ***
This first painting is of the fire that raged through Laguna Beach in the mid 1990s and consumed hundreds of homes. The artist, a gentle man named Jeff Hurlbut who worked at the same college as I, gifted me this painting. We had shared tears over the loss of his son and found common ground in art. I’m ever so glad that one of his masterpieces hangs in my home reminding me of him and his family.​ Neither of us could have known that one day his painting would have special meaning because of another loss.

​
​My daughter painted this second piece. I have several of her paintings hanging in our home, and each carries a special part of her and thus a part of me.

I love this one for its passion and its promise. Her years in ballet and her love of art find expression on canvas where life meets possibility. She sees that which some of us might miss, and the stories of times past come alive in the present.  

​This final piece, painted by a Chinese calligrapher visiting the United States, is entitled Compassion. He offered a class on Eastern philosophy and sold his work to cover his travel expenses.

When I look at this painting, I think of the artist and his courage – and I'm always reminded of the universal appeal of compassion. 

​                                            ***
If you returned to your home and realized you had only minutes to retrieve some of your precious belongings, what would you take with you? Your answer will tell you about home.
​
Maya Angelou said: “I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.”

I discovered that stories bring me home. Do they you? 

​Nothing is quite so delightful as an early morning walk in nature. Since I live in the Ozark Mountains, next to Lake Taneycomo, I am reminded every day of the wonder of life. I am literally surrounded by extraordinary beauty. 

Just for fun, I took a few photos this morning to share a glimpse of Branson, MO that you might not have seen. Most folks think of this area as a destination site for live theater and country music. Those who know the area, however, are entranced by the mountains and lakes. It is a wonderland for anyone who loves the outdoors. 

Below are a few photos of my walk today by the Branson Landing - alongside Lake Taneycomo. 

This is one of several restaurants that feature the day's catch. It sits in the water and provides a magical view of the lake. The architecture is reminiscent of days long past, when life in the Ozarks was simpler.  

Water enthusiasts regularly zoom past this iconic restaurant on their ski jets or other watercraft to the envy of all who sit within its confines. On this early morning walk, only the geese and ducks entertained. 

I leave you with a simple poem I wrote, prompted by today's lakeside walk. 

On this Fourth of July, I'm reminded of a statement by Edward B Lewis, an American Nobel Prize winner for his work in genetics. He said, We define ourselves by the best that is in us, not the worst that has been done to us. 

Today we honor those who have preceded us and those who walk alongside of us - all who summon the noble qualities of human nature to ensure that the inalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are protected.

​May this be a day of celebration for you....  

I am pleased to participate in the RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB’S "SPOTLIGHT" Author Blog Tour. Author Robert Fear, who is featured today, hails from Eastbourne, East Sussex in the U.K. His books chronicle his and his father’s travel adventures across the globe. Today he offers us a glimpse of his home town. Please join me in welcoming Robert Fear.
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It seems incredible to me that I have lived in Eastbourne for over half my life. I moved here back in 1986 to be with the love of my life, Lynn. We are still together over thirty years later and have been in the same house since 1988. The mortgage is almost paid off!

Eastbourne is a town on the south coast of England, about twenty-five miles east of Brighton and sixty miles south of London. It sits at the end of the South Downs National Park, which runs for a hundred miles from Winchester. In 1993 when I was younger (and fitter), I spent a week walking the South Downs Way, stopping off and staying at villages along the way.

There is plenty to do in and around Eastbourne. Here are several highlights of the town that I hope will be of interest to you:

• Eastbourne Promenade: This stretches for four miles along the seafront, from Holywell at the end of the South Downs to the Marina at the eastern end. I love walking along stretches of the promenade and stopping off at different places along the way. Living only five minutes away from the sea certainly has its advantages. During the summer months there is a regular Dotto train that runs the length of the promenade for a very reasonable return fare.
• Beachy Head: This is an unforgettable place for several reasons. This sheer white chalk cliff is a beauty spot towards the end of the South Downs as you approach Eastbourne from the west. There is also a lighthouse at its’s base. Most areas are not fenced off so it is possible, although not advisable, to walk right up to the cliff edge. People come from all over to throw themselves off the cliff.
• Eastbourne Pier: This was built between 1866 and 1872. The pier was originally designed as a simple boardwalk out over the sea. Over the years it has been extended and built upon. On 30 July 2014, a fire broke out. One third of the pier was badly damaged. This photo is from before the fire and shows ‘The Blue Room’ closest to the shore - it is now unlikely to be replaced. The Bandstand is in the foreground.​ 

​If you ever get the chance to visit my home town, then I would highly recommend spending a few days here, preferably during the summer months. Sheltered by the South Downs and a coastal location, Eastbourne is one of the sunniest seaside resorts in the country. July and August are normally the hottest months, with day time temperatures ranging from 23°C / 73°F to 30°C / 86°F. ​

​If you are a traveler, Robert's books will be of special interest. Exclusive Pedigree is a memoir of the life and travels of John Fear, Robert's father. The book is introduced and edited by Robert, as a tribute to his father’s amazing life. Fred's Diary is an account of Robert's travels through Asia.