Who are we?

                            (Summer, 2010, grandchild and friend at Meyers Beach)

I have counted 273 followers this morning, yet only a handful drop in regularly to leave a comment, delight in the same things, point out something that might be useful. In three years I only managed to keep a few regulars. Statistically this is a horror story.

Who are we, and why do we write here?

We are here to chronicle our days, the way we did in journals and diaries and calendar entries. We chronicle the good, the bad, the ugly, and the occasional turn of the century local story that puts us right in the middle of a pile of something or other. Think now if you were in Tunisia, Sudan, North Australia, Brazil, Haiti, India, how the eyes of the media, in your country or in the bigger world, will scoop down and get your point of view. Suddenly, you are the eyes of the world.

Some of us are writers, published or not, lovers of stories, concocting yet one more personal narrative to illuminate the human condition.


Some are shy and quiet, showing you their world now and then and simply let it go at that. Some are true marketers, combining many skills in the layout of the blog, accessing links and related materials to provide a veritable store of delights for the reader. They are more than blogs; they are web-sites, store-fronts with attractive displays and merchandise to sell.

As readers, some prefer to be entertained; some prefer to  shop or look for companionship.

When I tell my neighbors that I blog, they look at me suspiciously. We just got DSL in this  town. People fish, hunt, ride, boat, kayak, farm and ranch and enjoy the great outdoors even in the rain.

There was a talk about two Americas. I say we have hybrids everywhere; that fifty states are as diverse as fifty countries; that our weather and mountains, topography and shopping habits define us more that the name of our state; that most people can trace their family roots out of the United States; that we vote when we  are sick enough of something or someone; that we love where we live and think everybody else is messing up the country.

Blogging allows us to share across frontiers.

Right now, our school system is facing more budget cuts;  our state is in the top three states with serious hunger. There are more old people in our county than in any other county in this state. We are losing doctors in these rural communities and our commute to see a doctor has now increased from one hour to three.

Sure, I'm happy to be here. I tell you that all the time. I show you pictures of blissful shore visits. But, I'm not working for any advertising company, or for anyone else. I do not represent special interests.  I'm just a one person, reflecting on my life, in this year, in this place and I will continue to share these reflections day in and day out as long as free speech and blogging are both free.

When I am not writing my memoirs, working with the school board, or walking on the beaches, I'm blogging.

Stop. Look. Listen

A friend of mine emailed this to me this morning. It is worth sharing.

Interesting story and a reminder to slow down and appreciate the beauty around us!



Violinist in the Metro

-from The Effective Club


A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousand of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule.

A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip; a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk.

A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.


The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried but the kid stopped to look at the violinist.

Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars.

Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theatre in Boston and the seats averaged $100.

This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people.

The outlines were:

In a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context?

One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be:
If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing?