January 2009 (cont.)

Barb and me

Barb and I met at a potluck dinner, and she went home afterwards, looked me up on the Web and read my journal. Then she called . . . just before I had gathered my courage to call her.

She is a retired nurse, a one-time peace corps volunteer in Iran, a one-time trucker and railroad worker (all five feet tall of her), a passionate Socialist, and a fantastic human being.

I have recently celebrated my 70th birthday, and I can say with great authority that it is fine to be 70 and in love!

And this journal? Where is it taking me in the vast silence in which my books already float?

To a small step, I think, away from the silence. I'm going to try turning this journal into a blog. What I can't do is to allow the Internet to encroach deeply on my work time, so my presence in the blog will be light, but I want to give those who are catching these pebbles a chance to toss something back.

And I want to give myself a chance to hear.

I'll be listening.