I have not posted in awhile and I'm sorry. But frankly, life interrupted everything. Including my writing. And that always weighs heavy on me. My writing is more than an aspiration to be published, it is in fact a chance to release some of the accumulation within me. It is cathartic. And while not everyone who reads my writing would find it this way... I find writing to be stimulating, intellectually, emotionally, engaging. It brings me back within myself. It makes me real to myself even when the characters on the page are not. I'm sorry I've been away...
Something I saw this morning. It was an interview with Peter Jennings Wife and daughter. They were there to talk about the compilation book of interviews about him and their second reason was to bring to the forefront the fact that there is very little funding directed toward lung cancer even though it continues to be one of the largest proportionally devastating types of cancer out there, but because of the mythic disbelief that those with lung cancer die because they smoke it does not get the attention it deserves. In reality, according to the statistics Peter Jennings wife gave, over 60% of those that die from lung cancer were smokers in the past or have never smoked at all. Either way, as someone who has had her own brushes with cancer I have to believe that if we can find a cure for one type of cancer it may help us find a cure for the others. There is hope.
Anyway, after that rather long commentary there was another reason for me being intrigued by the Jennings interview. They all commented on the fact that those who contributed to the book were able to show a man very much the way he was in every part of his life. He had an incredible thirst for knowledge and understanding. Any spark of interest would lead to a more interest and he was a man who had the ability to listen. He would ask questions and listen. This is a gift. We are a high tech age and stress-filled generation. The ability to listen is a disappearing ability. Both my mother and father gave me the gift of being curious, of wanting to learn more from every situation I encountered. My mother gave me books to open my world and my father gave me the ability to listen to whomever wants to talk. Sometimes I will have a conversation with someone and get to the end of it and realise that for that moment and time... I was supposed to be there. I was supposed to listen to that person. I was supposed to have a conversation with them that made a difference... big or small.
If I can give two gifts to my kids I hope it is the same my parents gave me curiosity and the ability to listen. With that they have the ability to make the world a much better place.