On March 20, 2019, with the help of our son, Kurt, (I’m fortunate to have my own ‘techie’ on call) I posted my first blog, EXAMPLES, about older women I had admired when I was in my thirties. This is #304.
I don’t want it to be a gripe session although, once in a while, I air one of my complaints. I also don’t intend to be political–there are plenty of those. I just want people to join me in looking at our everyday lives.
I chose the name lolita-s-bigtoe.com. because as a senior citizen, I’m constantly testing the sea of change. I’ve taken part in massive innovations. For example, both Ken and I carry smart phones. When we were dating, our households each had one telephone tied to a party line. Uncle Bobbie made no secret that he sometimes “rubbered” to our conversations. When he saw me, he teased me about what he’d overheard.
As a young mother, I had no inkling I could become a writer. In 1969, after our three children were in school, I started looking for a part-time job and answered an ad in the Rockford Morning Star. I started reporting to the area daily newspaper about village board meetings, school board meetings and other events in our Durand community. Up to that point, my idea of a journalist was a smart-mouthed guy like I’d seen in the movies.
I enjoyed the work and was devastated thirteen years later when the newspaper dropped their part-time help. At writers’ conferences, I had learned about freelancing articles for magazines and decided to give it a try. I had success publishing stories with several periodicals for women, farmers and police officers.
I belonged to several writers’ groups and attended seminars to learn more about the craft. When my mother died and I had access to her diaries, it seemed logical to write a book about our seven-year courtship. Most memoirs seemed to be about abuse–I wanted to show people caring for one another. A lot of stories were set during the war years of the forties and the wild sixties but the fifties were ignored. When anyone thinks of that era, the TV program, “Happy Days” or the movie, “Grease” comes to mind. I wanted to take people beyond those city limits to the rural areas where life on the family dairy farms revolved around milking the cows every morning and evening. Four years ago, Adelaide Books published my memoir, “The View from a Midwest Ferris Wheel.” It’s still available from Amazon.
My blog allows me to continue as a wordsmith without needing an editor’s approval. It gives me something to do every morning. Writing consists of rewriting–my first thoughts are mundane and word choice lacks creativity.
I’m grateful that people read my blog because that’s what it’s all about–communication.