I'm fairly certain I seized the wrong day.
That is what is printed on the front of a journal sent to me by my friend Susan C.
I haven’t made any entries in it yet. My handwriting is so atrocious, even I can’t read it most of the time. Having said that, I can still type (I guess it’s called ‘keyboarding’ now) like hardly anyone I know now. Spellcheck - which I’m not sure is even a thing anymore - will lie to you. And AI - omg - how does that even make sense to those of us who think before we write? I just don’t understand.
My latest gig is collecting donations to help save the Yancey library from being disconnected from the regional system, which has served patrons well for many, many years. The current county commissioners bowed to the bizarre notion that a library should not be welcoming to ALL. A woman, who at the time wasn’t even registered to vote here (she registered the next month), complained to the county commissioners about a Pride Month display at our library. IMHO, she was part of a nationwide “Moms for Liberty” (actually meaning “Moms for Censorship”) campaign that sent people into public libraries during Pride Month specifically to rile up the small-minded and ignorant. (Bizarrely, the commissioner she complained to, according to my sources, has a very personal conflict of interest there.)
Anyhoo, as of today, I’ve collected almost $2300 toward one of two things: either a series of ads in the Yancey Common Times Journal, or a lawsuit.
I’m not steering this, just collecting from anyone who believes in the 1st and 14th Ammendments.
Other than that, everything is fairly normal-ish here at 61 Parnell Hill (now called Summit Street). I wish to God that Burnsville cared about creating an historical district…so much stands to be lost if they don’t. I live in William and Kittie Parnell’s house (c. 1900 or 1910), and although I don’t stand to profit from an historical designation, the Town of Burnsville could benefit so much if they’d only care to preserve the knowledge inherent in historical properties.
For those of you who’ve asked me to publish my Tinyletters (now ButtonDown) since 2000, which is when I started them: I’m ready. There’s some editing involved, which I’ll have to do myself, since I don’t trust anyone else to keep my thoughts in order. It’s such a crap shoot these days, what with my barely detectable dementia diagnosis.
I remember a few years ago, when author Charles F. Price, one of the dearest people I’ve ever met, told me me he was diagnosed with dementia. I said I was going to regard it as “re-mentia” instead. Charles - one of the founders of the Carolina Mountains Literary Festival - is gone now, but he is as alive to me as ever. If you ever needed to reject someone, let’s say an author, for whatever reason - Charles was the guy who could phrase it so beautifully that they had no idea they were being given the boot.
It seems to me I had a point to make with this particular Tinyletter/Buttondown, but the brandy has gotten in the way.
Speaking of brandy…a brandy and Coke was probably, if you grew of age in Wisconsin, to be your first drink. I’m unlikely to drink Coke later in the day now, because of the sugar and caffeine, so I take a slug from my mother’s “NOT REALLY hydrogen peroxide” bottle she swigged from when she and my dad were on camping trips.
Blessings from whatever gods or goddesses you rely on, if any.
xox
Lucy
