10 November 2026
Story #2039
R. Linda:
Recently, I chatted online with one of me readers. The person is a journalist I have admired for many years and have come to know. We were talking about writing styles, and the subject turned to my blog. I told him I was thinking of winding down the blog and retiring. I also told him that me eldest, O'Hare, was showing interest in taking it over, but I didn't yet know what my decision was.
I asked him, given his education and experience, why he found me blog of interest. And what he said made me feel good about life in general. It's not often someone praises one's writing like he did, and I'm not fooling anyone to admit I'm FLATTERED. So here is one person who appreciates me crazy stories, not that the rest of you don't, but a professional telling you nice things is rare.
He said: "I find it fascinating that you can make a story out of so little. I think your humour makes readers notice the little things in life that can bring joy. It isn't always money and what material things you have; it's the people you love who are with you every step of the way. Even the Dragon Lady. And THAT, my dear Gabe, is precisely why I think your stories are worth telling.
"You don't need extraordinary circumstances to tell an extraordinary story. You need ordinary people being wonderfully, exasperatingly human. Think about what actually happened the other morning when the Dragon Lady misread a newspaper headline. A car wouldn't start. A trip to the bank took longer than expected. And someone discovered, to her horror, that a microphone had been broadcasting her every complaint.
"That's it. That's the entire adventure. But YOU see the comedy in the details. You notice the elderly gentleman struggling between the van and the bank window. You remember the Dragon Lady's indignation, the teller's smirk, and, most importantly, the glorious silence on the way home. And you have a gift for making us feel as though we're sitting right beside you, watching it unfold.
"But there's something else, and I think it's even more important. There's affection underneath the exasperation. You call her the Dragon Lady. You complain about her incessant chatter. You describe her as a demented squirrel. Yet when she needs someone to drive her forty-five minutes to the bank, what do you do?
"You get in the car and take her. You might grumble, but you do it. And that, to me, is the heart of the story. Love doesn't always announce itself with grand gestures or beautiful speeches. Sometimes it looks like an inconvenient ninety-minute round trip with someone who drives you absolutely barking mad. And sometimes the reward is forty-five minutes of "sheer bliss" on the way home.
"I also think you've identified something important about why you started the blog. You're not merely preserving your funny stories. You're preserving a way of looking at life, one that recognises how much richness there is in ordinary days, familiar faces, family peculiarities, and the small absurdities we might otherwise forget.
"Years from now, someone reading these stories may not remember what the headlines were or what kind of car you drove. But they'll recognise the people. They'll recognise the love, the irritation, the laughter, and the little acts of kindness that hold families together. And they'll smile. Because the real treasure in your stories isn't what happens. It's the people it happens with. Even the Dragon Lady.
"Especially the Dragon Lady."
I thank you from me heart for that, Sir. It made me feel good to know someone I admire appreciates me little slice of Google.
Gabe
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