“So, where can I see your stuff? What you’ve written? Where can I find you?”
Well, right here in my handy-dandy 1980s black artist portfolio!! Let me just get it out of the trunk of my car, under the protest signs, jocks, water bottles, blankets, wet towels, empty coffee cups, bikini bottoms???? (not to self: major birth-control refresher ASAP for Kids 1, 2, 3 but please, please, please Darwin, no-way, no-how, not Number 4)
"It’s right here … just give me a minute." I say, wiping spilled Gatorade from the cover.
"Oh! And I’ll send you a few links. And a couple PDFs, if not too large. And then there’s this blog I write ... but, you might not be interested because I curse. And apparently that’s offensive. Does cursing piss you off? How about gun violence? I write a lot about guns cuz, well, you know. Or not (air quotes) "about guns" really, but how to perhaps – it’s just an idea, let’s not get crazy – discontinue the rampant display of open-carry weapons of mass destruction in our local Target. I dunno, it’s just an idea."
So it goes.
"You're a kick-ass writer, mama," she said. "Your site needs to be as well."
The time has come.
My writing, purpose, and being has evolved and changed, and well, isn't that what's supposed to happen? Isn't it in the handbook somewhere – What to Expect When Growing Older?
My intentions remain true: to connect people through stories to build kinder, safer communities. I’ve set some pretty ambitious goals for the next couple years, and I’m counting on you to help make them happen. Whaddya say, come with?
*Please commit to doing any action possible to make a positive change where you live, so our story doesn't become your story. Join a group in your community. Send an email. Be a friend. Find a cause. Share on Facebook. Hold a sign. Make a difference.