It's OK to do something just for me

I've been thinking a lot about writing lately, ever since I attended an inspirational writing workshop in late February. I made a commitment that I would write every day, but I've only done it one day. I could use the excuse that a few days after the workshop we went to Chicago and I was busy preparing for the trip, and that when I got home I was recuperating from the trip.

But like Wayne Dyer, I don't like excuses and those aren't the real reason I broke my commitment, anyway.

I just realized it's because I've always thought about writing with an end goal of getting published, when maybe I just need to write.

But is writing like the sound of one hand clapping in the forest--does anyone hear it? If I only write for myself and not to get published, to share what I've learned and what inspires me--does it matter?


I've actually been published--a lot. Mostly for jobs, though. There were a few poems, a few essays here and there, that I had published, and maybe made a connection with a reader out there somewhere.


But for right now, I need to just write for me or else I'll never do it. And maybe, eventually, I'll put together what I've written here and it will be a book and it will be published. But for now, I just need to alleviate the pressure and this is the only way to do it. It feels good.

This is my Golden Legacy!

Why I Re-Launched Golden Legacies

About a month ago, my cousin emailed me this photo of my dad.

I had never seen it before. In fact, I had never seen a photo of my dad this young, partly I guess, because he was already 40 when I was born.

 And he died in March 1979, when I was 21 about to turn 22.

In this photo, he looks like a teenager.


I don't know much about my dad's early life. He never talked too much about himself.

He was born in Memphis, TN, in 1916, and his dad died in 1927. He would have graduated from high school in 1934, the height of the Great Depression.


I had a feeling that he did not finish high school, and my aunt, his brother's wife, confirmed that recently.

I intuitively knew that because my education was so important to him. He worked two jobs so that I could attend a private Catholic girls' school, and Loyola University in New Orleans, which is where I had my heart set on going (I did have a scholarship, and student loans, and worked, and it was still expensive even in the '70s, but so well worth it).


I wish I knew more about my dad's early life. I wish I knew for sure how old he was in this photo, who his friends were, whether he had a girlfriend, why he dropped out of school (I presume to get a job), and if so, what job it was.

My dad's sister-in-law is nearly 90 and doesn't remember much and if my mother (who met my father in 1949 and divorced him in 1963) knows anything she does not talk about it. My dad would have been 94 this year--there are no friends or family left who remember him as a boy and young man.

When all's said and done, maybe it's not so important that I know the details of my dad's life. I know what I need to know: that he was smart, hardworking, loved baseball, was good to his mother, and loved me. He made sacrifices so I would have a better life, as any good father would.

So I know what I need to know; but still, I'd like to know more.

That plays a big part in my re-launch of the Golden Legacies business, which helps people tell their stories.

So you can know, and not wonder.