When I was a little girl, my oldest brother Jerry would make cheese sandwiches and take me and his two young sons for a picnic in the tree house he built in the large oak tree in his front yard. We would climb the ladder up the tree, spread a blanket and eat and talk about everything under the sun. I remember that Jerry would ask me at some point during each of those conversations what I wanted to do when I grew up. And my answer was always the same, "I want to write books about fish."
Looking back now, I have no idea why I was so fascinated with fish when I was young. Perhaps it was because my dad took me fishing a lot. Perhaps it was because we had a huge aquarium filled with several varieties of goldfish in our house. Perhaps it was because Jerry was a biology teacher. All I know is that even at a young age, I wanted to be a writer. And I wanted to write books about fish.
It seems fitting somehow that my first post on my brand new blog should cause me to remember that childhood writing dream and to reflect on those special times with my brother Jerry. It also causes me to again, as I have so many times over the last 30-something years, wonder how my life would have been different had Jerry not lost his life in a car accident when I was 10 years old.
So, Jerry, if you can look down from heaven and see me now in the middle of my life, I'm sure you are smiling. I'm writing, Jerry, and I'm speaking for women's groups. I've even written my first book. I'm chasing the dream, and I'm trying my best to make you proud.
Oh, and one more thing ... it's not a book about fish.
