Three things from DAH. Free every Friday!
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DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. Read the words of The There There Letter and you know me. 

First up this week, Words … 
I value words. I try and use interesting words without overly muddying the written waters. I decided years ago that Merriam-Webster would be my defining companion. Used to be the Oxford English Dictionary (OED). But I live in the USA, so Merriam-Webster is authoritiave and non-muddying (also half the price of the OED online). I have many language and grammar books in my library, but I generally go with my gut, referencing Merriam-Webster online for usage and etymology, on the fly as I write. My first wish for the new year: That we all consider the words we use … their meaning, their historical baggage, their proper spelling! Let your words land with grace and compassion and love. Help make the world of communication a better place.  

Second up this week, Write … 
Just write. And I have far too many books explaining how and why. Well, not too many, really, since I keep finding more. More lost in the library, and more procured for that library. For now, set the how-to-write-better books aside (as I often do). Just write. I learned long ago that writing helped discipline my thinking. At work I struggled with people who wanted to just talk. "So much easier," they'd say. They didn't want to waste time writing. I wanted them, and me, to write, at least to confirm what we'd agreed while talking. Too often I was the sole transcriber and noodge (I think that's really a verb, although I'm using it as a noun … but "noodger" sounds silly). I really liked the communications rule set by the CFO of one company I worked for: "Inform in person (or by phone, as necessary), then confirm in writing." Seems good to me.

Third up this week, Wright …  
I fancy myself a word-wright. "a workman in wood : carpenter —usually used in combination <millwright> <shipwright>" (Merriam-Webster). Yes, I may be muddying by replacing a wood-craft with "word." Forgive me, please. But I do consider myself a writing workman, practicing a craft (albeit non-wooden, except for some bad prose moments). I wright (a noun I'm using as a verb) by working to put the right words in the right order to properly and interestingly share my thoughts. I like to think I succeed a bit more than I fail. Wright? Right.


A book about human connections … 
How We Show Up: Reclaiming Family, Friendship, and Community,
by Mia Birdsong
"Through research, interviews, and stories of lived experience, How We Show Up returns us to our inherent connectedness where we find strength, safety, and support in vulnerability and generosity, in asking for help, and in being accountable. Showing up--literally and figuratively--points us toward the promise of our collective vitality and leads us to the liberated well-being we all want" (from a promotional blurb for the book).


And a bit more:

Community Garden,
by Laure-Anne Bosselaar

 I watch the man bend over his patch,   
a fat gunny sack at his feet.
 He combs the earth 

 with his fingers, picks up pebbles around 
tiny heads of sorrel.
 Clouds bruise in, clog the sky, 

 the first fat drops pock-mark the dust.
 
The man wipes his hands on his chest, 

 opens the sack, pulls out top halves 
of broken bottles, and plants them, firmly, 

 over each head of sorrel — tilting the necks
toward the rain.
 His back is drenched, so am I,

 his careful gestures clench my throat, 
wrench a hunger out of me I don't understand, 

 can't turn away from.
 The last plant
sheltered, the man straightens his back, 

 swings the sack over his shouler, looks 
at the sky, then at me and — as if to end 

 a conversation — says: I know they'd survive
 without the bottles, I know.
 He leaves the garden, 

 plods downhill, blurs away.
 I hear myself 
say it to no one: I never had a father.


And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver's Sometimes

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.