"My Give-a-Damn is Busted"

I must admit that writing about my family is more fun than writing about concrete, heavy equipment, fishing and camping, cooking, or even woodworking, but the latter helps pay the bills. With my family, only I’m sure what is fact and what is fiction. (Hint: There is usually, if ever, any fiction thrown in. There is no need for “creative license”.)

Lately I’ve been getting some second-hand feedback regarding how my family feels about my doing “that writing thing” and it isn’t pretty. But then, I am the--insert your own description here--of the family and have always marched to my own drummer.

It was I who got the good grades in school and excelled at pretty much whatever I attempted. I’ve been publicly lauded for that—and made fun of behind my back.

It was I who took my college classes as I could afford them and could fit them into my work schedule—and around raising kids—which included my own and my parent’s. Not having a degree has been an obstacle to overcome, but I’ve found it doable.

There is a reason I live nearly 3,000 miles away from most of my family, Folks. It is peaceful here, away from the day-to-day squabbles and drama. I’m not called on to be the peace keeper. Hell, I’m not called on at all most of the time. Very peaceful, indeed.

It is however, unfortunate, that my biggest nemesis in life used a birthday call to my son to attack me over a little article I had written for Rewind the Fifties. Obviously that family member only read the first sentence. It was a light-hearted article with a happy ending. I’m sorry she missed that.

If you’d like to read the article in its entirety: www.loti.com/country_star.htm “I Wanna Be a Country Star”.

I’ll continue to write articles and short stories and at some point my novel will be ready for publication. When that novel is published, there will probably be more than a few small explosions occurring in Washington state, in addition to Mt. St. Helens’ huffing and puffing. You see, I can’t come up with enough fiction that doesn’t touch on what is actually happening in the lives of my family members to fit within a short story, much less, a novel.

Oh yes, tongues will be wagging. And you know what? I just don’t care.