Barbara J. Hamby

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Ramblings of a Writer

Yesterday a new neighbor moved her furniture in, but I haven’t seen her yet. Our backyards face each other, with a walkway in between. When I walk by to go to the pool or the mailbox, I don’t see her around. Maybe sometime over the weekend I’ll get a chance to meet her. Her predecessor, my former neighbor, assured me I would like the new gal.

This office is starting to look almost as bad as Andy Rooney’s. I have good intentions for reducing clutter and increasing organization, but they don’t come with the necessary energy these days.

Running errands and paying bills took up most of my energy and time today. In little snippets of time in between, I did some reading, had a swim and a nap.

I enjoyed Cynthia Whitcomb’s definition of a writer in the latest Willamette Writer newsletter. She questioned the dictionary definition of a writer being someone who writes. Writers aren’t necessarily writing at all times, but they know they are writers. She said she has always known that if she were locked in a prison cell or stranded on a desert island, she’d be okay as long as she had paper and a pen. (Maybe even a pencil or crayon?)

Cynthia is a former president of Willamette Writers and an experienced screen writer.

I have had thoughts similar to hers. It’s clear to me that in any unfortunate circumstances, including being in a nursing home, if not mentally incapacitated, I would read and write.