First of all, I want you to know that I sent out the second half of your Christmas present today. I suspect you'll get it on Monday, but maybe this Saturday. I wrote a note inside to explain why I got it for you. :-)
I checked out the Saturday Evening Post winners of the short story writing contest and was very disappointed. Apparently, a lot of other people were, too, judging from their comments on-line. All the winners were experienced, published writers who have had their work published for a number of years and are quite well-known. I don't understand why they even entered the contest. Someone wrote that it would have been better if the SEP had two different categories for the contest - one for published authors and one for unpublished authors. As it was, how could anyone who has never been published stand a chance against those experienced authors. So, I didn't bother to read the stories. I was irked.... LOL
I came across a really good poem today by Billy Collins that I thought you might like to read. Here it is:
FORGETFULNESS
Billy Collins
The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
I really liked the poem. I can relate. LOL
Here are the bird pictures I promised you....
....and these are pictures I took on the Swamp Rabbit Trail in Greenville last Saturday.
...and here's Ed and me...
It's very cold here and will stay this way for another day or so. Brrr... Certainly not as cold as you're getting, but still cold. Then, it's going to get warm and.....then it's going to get cold. This is just crazy!
I love you, Mom. Stay warm!
xoxo
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