Smokey’s Introduction

I am completely new to blogging or any other kind of public writing, with the exception of Facebook. I have been told i have an interesting writing style – possibly some real talent. The problem is, I’ve never taken these comments seriously. Well, now that my husband has encouraged me to stretch myself, I thought I’d give it a try. Worst case scenario, I spend some time writing and also meet some new people.

I also believe that this could be a really cathartic experience for me since all my life I have been on the sidelines. I grew up in a noisy family, thus, my quiet voice was rarely heard. Add to that mixture the fact that I have a significant hearing problem, and you end up with someone that has spent most of their life alone in their own head (me).

I don’t have specific topics to explore, but as I’ve said above, I’ve spent so much time in my own head conducting conversations about various topics over the years, I believe the words will eventually flow. There will be cerebral alluvial deposits to erode or, if necessary, circumvent. But it will happen.

Let’s Go have ourselves some fun! ūüôā



The beginning of the end

My mom, Ruth,  was a thinker and a talker. She always had something to say about everything in any social situation. Her comments ranged from arcane to banal, serious to silly, thoughtful to ridiculous. When she was approaching the end of her life, our roles switched. She was the quiet one, and I became the talkative one. I would visit her at her assisted living home each day regaling her with stories from my day.

Ruth was a voracious reader before her eyes went south. Now I routinely read to her, just as she used to read to me when I was a child. The once ‘chatty Cathy” would lie in bed with her eyes closed while I read to her. In fact, I¬†thought she wasn’t listening and had fallen asleep when suddenly she blurted out the correct pronunciation of a famous composer’s last name. “Mahler not Mailer!”, she said. I was so happy she was cognizant enough to be not only listening, but actively correcting me. I have never been so thrilled to stand corrected.

So, one day when this vivacious person finally did go silent, it was as though all the sound and movement of life had come to a standstill. I commented about an upcoming event we would attend that was going to be so much fun. She turned to me with a look of sadness, love, fear, and omniscient wisdom. We stared at each other for the longest time in pure silken silence, yet our locked eyes spoke volumes. I was acutely aware of her pupils. We silently acknowledged that the end was near.  Sure enough, she died withing the next few weeks.


Where have I been all my life?


Are we on yet, Frank? Yes? Okay, here we go.

I am a few years into my lifetime, yet I feel that I am¬†only recently¬†having my own private Renaissance. The ‘critical mind’ has been¬†most decidedly¬†sequestered into the confines of a¬†corner of my mind. Oh, baby, let freedom RAINE.

So many reasons to blog such as intellectual and emotional stimulation by others, but primarily to freely express myself while I watch from the bleachers what manifests from my long-buried psyche.

I’m a quiet person that has had very little¬†‘air time’ in this world of chatty people. Too shy and unsure. In grade school I had a crush on the teacher, Mr. Snyder (yes, I still remember his name and what he looked like 44 years later). The¬†class would be talking and laughing, and I would think of something to add. Since I was too¬†afraid to pipe up, I whispered my thoughts to my girlfriend. She would squeal with delight and, being the boisterous person that she was, repeat my comments loudly to the teacher and class. Everyone would laugh at ‘Sonja’s’ remarks! OMG. It drove me nuts, but I NEVER spoke up.

My repressed verbal self occasionally found an outlet through the written word. I used to write letters (with a pen on paper and sent through the USPS) to friends that were far away. The letters were in the form of stories with funny anecdotes. I was surprised and very pleased at the enjoyment they brought to the recipient. I also used to write skits to my boyfriend that were funny, yet revealing of my deeper feelings re the relationship. He treasured those letters. I asked him to give them back to me for safekeeping, but he would not!

So, all that to say, I am very excited to have an outlet that feels better than a journal with no pressure to be anything in particular. Even if no one ever reads my blog, it ‘feels’ like I’m¬†finally getting some air time.¬†I believe the process will be very cathartic as I explore many things: discover my¬†authentic self that I have neglected for so long, track my progress with my new photography hobby, and engage in dialog with others re this¬†crazy world we call home.

I feel like a kid again — I’m so excited about the myriad possibilities that¬†might evolve from this venture. I am hereby officially¬†released from critical mind¬†and¬†on a mission to¬†enjoy¬†the ¬†“Renaissance Raine”.