Kay & Mike

I’ve been trying to get my mind wrapped around creating a new blog. I used to blog all the time. I was creating new postings every week. I loved it. I was excited about it. Then, well, it just ended. I came to a full stop. I’m not sure why, but apparently, I ran out of steam.
After I published my first novel (Abandon Hope), I found myself putting all my energy into trying to market it. I’m still working on that. From there, I moved right into writing my devotional book (Loving Out Loud), consuming more time. Finally, I had to get going with the upcoming sequel (Nozomi’s Battle), which will be released very, very soon. All of this was going on while I was changing roles in my 8 to 5 job.
Along the way, my agent and others said, “You need to create an email list.” Then, “You need to be writing a monthly newsletter.” On top of all that, I heard: “Hey, writers need to be blogging.”
All of the above is about creating a “platform.” In other words, a readymade set of followers who would want my books. Are you part of that group?
Now, I’m trying to buckle down and get those things done. Thus, my new blog…which you are reading. Thank you for indulging me.
Now, what to talk about?
That was one of my issues. It was a major question. I don’t want to focus on politics. There’s enough of that out there already. I could share my thoughts on spiritual matters, which would fit with my Loving Out Loud book, but that didn’t light my fuse either. What would be interesting? To me and to you? I finally settled on an idea. Something I’d try.
I will focus my blog posts on a picture. I will pick an old photo or interesting shot, and I’ll tell you a story about it, the people, or how the picture makes me feel. I hope you enjoy the concept because that’s what I’m running with—at least for now.
This first picture is of me and my sister and it makes me smile—just like I did when it was taken. Kay was seventeen years old when I was born. As this shot was snapped, she wasn’t yet eighteen. As a little dude, I pretty much adored her, and I can say without much hesitation that she adored me right back. I was Sissy’s Little Darlin’ (she still calls me that) and she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
This picture was taken on my folks’ front porch in Muncie, Indiana. (It just occurred to me to try to recreate the picture. Wouldn’t that be a hoot? But there is a problem. Someone else owns the house now. I’ll think about that.) We used to do a lot on that little stoop, but it mostly involved sitting, talking, and watching the traffic go by, sometimes late into the evening, past my bedtime.
It looks like she’s holding a stuffed animal. I don’t remember that one. I don’t think it’s the little mechanical beast she brought home one time and scared the living daylights out of me. I scampered up to the top of my mom’s sofa to get away from it. That little trauma is locked into my memory bank. Someday, when I can’t remember who I am anymore, I’m sure that event will come back in my nightmares.
We had a lot of fun when I was little. She would rock me. She sang to me. She took me downtown on the city bus. When I got a year or two older, she pushed me into a professional singing career. She had me sing The Birds and the Bees​, a recent single by Jewel Akens, in a downtown diner. People gave me dimes, nickels, and quarters. It paid for our little lunch. My singing career ended the same day it started, though. I was a one-hit wonder.
On another trip, she took me to the downtown Sears & Roebuck store. I was on the go and she lost track of me. When she found me, I was “making a deposit” into a toilet on display in the plumbing department. Let’s just say we made a beeline to the exit.
I only had one real fault with her in those days: she smoked. She smoked a lot.
I used to beg her to quit, but she didn’t listen. Then again, almost every grown up I knew smoked in those days. I could probably count on one hand the number of people I remember who didn’t, so she was right in line with society. I hated it.
But I loved my sister. Still do. I have many good memories with her. I have some bad ones, too. That’s life, right? She made me laugh, a lot. She always made me give her a kiss. I guess she still does. She used to pick me up and smear lipstick on my face. Now, I have to stoop down so she can plant one on my cheek.
Siblings are the real deal. Hug ‘em while you got ‘em.