What Makes Me Happy and What Makes Me Sad

Last month, this blog had 2506 page views from the United States. We also had 115 page views last month from France and people from many other countries clicked on this site.

I don't monitor the statistics on a regular basis because I don't want to get obsessed with how many people read this blog. But it makes me happy to see that it reaches far beyond our local borders.

I hope people in other countries learn something about life in this country from reading my  posts and your comments. Some of those people who view my blog are simply Spam. I discard them every day or two. But I am particularly happy when my dear cousin, in her 80s now, tells me how much she loves to read my blog posts. She prints them out and shares them with her son, she says. 

Friends tell me they read my posts but don't leave comments. They email me instead. That is fine with me. Often, I share this blog on Facebook, and that reminds non-subscribers to check out what is happening here.

As a writer, my goal is to communicate with other people. I wish to express my feelings and thoughts, tell my stories that I think entertain and enlighten, and blogging has turned out to be one of the things I most enjoy.

I have never met in person some of you, but you are my dear friends. It all started when I set up the Netwest Writers blog in 2007.  Soon I heard from a lovely woman in Morganton, NC. She has now moved back to New England to be near her family. We never met in person, but I like her and am glad we met online. We have both lost our husbands and had to travel the lonely journey of widowhood. We are both writers, only she has produced a few novels, and I have produced more poetry and short prose.

I don't use all the Social Media that is available and add Friends that I don't really know. It seems that Twitter brings out the meanness in people, but I am fortunate not to have to read that, and no one posts ugly remarks or hurtful things on my Facebook pages.

I admit that I did go in and block some of the political rhetoric on Facebook that is not directed at me, but hurts me to read because it is hateful and mean-spirited. It does nothing to bring about the good will we need in this country. I have never felt the need to criticize celebrities or political figures that I don't personally know. I think it is unfair to accuse someone or spread rumors about someone who can't defend himself. I imagine the pain it brings to them and their families when they read the garbage anonymous people write.

I can't bring myself to call our U.S. President, of either party, liar, stupid, and worse. He has the worst job in this world, I think.  All I ask is that he keep us out of war if at all possible.

I try to remember the rule Barry lived by. "If you can't say anything good about someone, then don't say anything at all." I have not always been that understanding and caring. But I realize now that when I judged or gossiped about someone, I felt awful later. I also have learned that one of the reasons I spoke negatively about another was because I was feeling insecure. I was jealous or afraid for some reason. If I have been hurt, I have spoken in anger and said unkind things. And later regretted I said them. I don't hold grudges forever but some people do. I don't forget, but I can forgive.

I also know that I have abundant empathy for those in need. My father was empathetic for the underdog. He had to struggle much of his life, and he felt the pain of those who were always at the bottom trying to rise. I have been told that I did all the feeling for my family. I experienced painful emotions, suffered for others, more than I should. I guess I still do. I wear the badge of sensitive proudly. If I didn't have that sensitive nature, I'd not  write poetry. I'd not write anything.

A year or two ago, I was deeply hurt by a few people I thought of as friends. It has taken a long time to recover from the betrayal and the downright physical pain I suffered at the time. I didn't understand why I was targeted with this malice. I probably will never understand, but I know I was not at fault. Perhaps those who sought to hurt me have their own feelings of inadequacy, and I am sorry for them. Those who know me and love me never falter in that love, and I try to always show my love for them.

My life is good, and I am doing what I most enjoy. I look forward to the spring and summer. In May our family will hold another reunion in south Georgia. We will laugh and tell family stories, and remember our loved ones who have departed. I will see some that I never or seldom see now that I live in North Carolina, older and very young family members. What more could I ask for?

This is my some of my family and friends at Lake Blackshear in Cordele,GA a couple of years ago. My brother said it was the best reunion he had ever been to. That made me proud as I organized it and brought them all together.
 I never hear the word reunion that I don't think about the time some of us attended a family gathering thinking we were at my mother's family reunion.
I wrote a story about that day and submitted it to Reunions Magazine. They published it in two parts.