Bellbottom Blog

Scratching A Writing Itch From Time To Time

Inspiration Takes A Holiday

I was apprehensive when it came to starting a blog.  What to write about. When to write. How often. And would anybody read it?

Well, I have been happy to have a small but loyal band of readers. And I have written some things that got a lot of views.

Now I feel an obligation to write whether or not I have something interesting to say. Just to make sure people stick around.

A couple of other writers whose work I admire ( and who write circles around me) have slowed down on their posts.

So, I wonder why? Is it that there is nothing that strikes them as blog-worthy? Maybe real life has left them without enough time to write?

Most writers start by writing about things they know pretty well.  Usually autobiographical in nature. I have done a little of that so we may go in that direction for a while.

Anyway, enough about this. I do have a couple of things to talk about today.

First, tornadoes.

I got into a little dust up with a couple of different people about the recent tornadoes that went through the Midwest.

One person on Twitter mistook my attempt at sympathy and got upset with me.

She had written about the tornado warning in Missouri. The time was late, so I said that nighttime tornadoes were the worst.  And they are. This made her even more upset than she already was. Didn’t mean for that to happen but it did.

The next day, the storm front came roaring through my state (Indiana) leaving a horrible path of destruction.  A person I talk with on Twitter said all mobile homes should be banned in tornado alleys.

This started a lively back and forth.  He is from New York City. I don’t know how much practical experience a New Yorker has with tornadoes, but I am guessing I have seen more.

He said that seatbelts don’t prevent deaths but they increase the odds of surviving. I suggested that some mobile home parks have shelter areas. I also pointed out that F4 or F5 tornadoes will level $500,000 houses and schools and hospitals.  We left it there.

If he had continued I could have pointed him to the story of a mom and her two young children living in a brick house in the path of a tornado.  She wrapped up her kids and then wrapped herself around them just as the house collapsed.

They all survived but the rubble crushed her legs, One leg was amputated just below the knee and the other just above the ankle.

Tornadoes are the most arbitrary, destructive  force in nature.  They skip one house and destroy the next several miles of houses,  They change direction on a dime.

One other thing and then I will wrap this up.

Tomorrow I will have been a grandfather for a year.

Diapers. Baby food. Finding ways to make a sad baby happy.

It has been a lot of fun. and a bit of a challenge.

My favorite thing has been watching him when different people walk in the room. He has an unique  smile for each of us.

So, Happy Birthday, grandson and remember if you say Grandpa first instead of Grandma, there is a pony in it for you.





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8 thoughts on “Inspiration Takes A Holiday

  1. Debihen on said:

    Your Missouri storm girl survived. Normally confident and self assured, nature has a way of bringing he to her knees. Sorry about all that; fear brings out the worst in people sometimes.
    Congratulations on 1 year as a grandpa. As a 3 time Grammie I can say wih certainty that grandparent ing is the best gig on earth!

  2. I have been in the thick of it in Kansas. A number of years ago, we counted 5 funnels one day. Very scary stuff .
    Thanks on the congrats. It has been fun.

  3. Love hearing about your experiences as a grandpa. It always warms my heart.

  4. Yay, grandpa! As a first-time aunt, I love the grandpa stories so much!

    I don’t think you ever have to worry about *having* to write. Write when you want, or when the mood strikes. It should be fun. When it stops being fun, it starts being work. Who wants to work? No one. Weirdos, that’s who. WEIRDOS.

  5. Our baby girl’s first word seem to be ‘katten’, which is Swedish for ‘the cat’. Not mummy or daddy.

    Damn that cat.

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