#1 Let’s Do This Substack Thing

Thanks, Mary!

Welcome! First, I want to thank Mary for becoming my first paid subscriber! I announced this project in my newsletter, knowing that if I publicly said I was on Substack, I’d have to be. Mary’s subscription meant I had to do it now. No procrastinating. Thank you, Mary.

I’ve been a writer for a long time, and a serious artist for a significant time. A Substack newsletter and an army of subscribers might attract a publisher who thinks I’m a genius. But IT CAN BE SO MUCH MORE! And it will be.

I’ll share short stories, essays, poems, photos, art, and always humor. I’ll also post some audio files from my dad’s collection. You also might find dating advice because I once co-wrote a book titled 25 Words or Less about dating through the personals. The media has changed, but the process hasn’t. Politics? In high school, I was voted “Most likely to have an opinion,” so I may be compelled to share some of those. Can you ask a kid not to blow out her birthday candles?

However, I’m more interested in facilitating understanding and connection between people. At this point, understanding each other is critical. So is humor.

The rules? No engaging in arguments or judging opinions, please. OK, maybe if you’re super witty. Just be curious about each other and respectful.

I promise not to inundate your already overflowing inbox with emails. I will send an email once a month for sure; once a week max.

Subscription Benefits

Subscribers have FREE access to:

· Poems & Art A poet can’t offer a Substack without poems. An artist can’t have a Substack without art. You’ll see my work first here.

· Outtakes from Not Just Another Gay Dad Story You’ll receive stories that I deleted from the final manuscript that will never be read anywhere else Warning: Some may contain situations only suitable for mature individuals.

· News on Publishing Progress You get an inside look at the process, or lack of, taking a manuscript from the computer to the bestseller list. I get accountability.

· Questions on Creativity What stimulates creativity? Particular time of day to be creative? How do creative disciplines interact? Let’s throw some questions out there to think about.

· Stray Thoughts

· Humor, always humor.

PAID subscribers ($5/mo and $50/yr) receive:

You receive everything a free subscription receives plus:

• Choice Audio Clips Audio may include readings, segments from Greg Thornton’s tape collection housed as the Kinsey Institute and maybe more.

• Essays & Short Stories I have a wide variety of interests. I write essays and stories on creativity, healthcare, travel, paranormal critiques, dating, being a daughter, wife, mom, grandmother, and cancer survivor.

• A 15% discount on paintings on my website.

• Things I haven’t even thought of.

• Ability to Comment

• For an annual subscription, you also get pride in being thrifty.

FOUNDING Member Subscribers receive:

You receive everything a free subscription receives plus:

The Promise of a Poem

This is the time of year when I’ve had enough of the heat. This poem was fried out of me.v Click here to hear me read it.

When Concept Exceeds Reality: Summer

In the cold, we wait for summer heat

no-coat days and Frisbee play

baseball fun and bleacher bums

foamy beers and soccer cheers

for sail boats and beach towel coats.

But summer screams like rusty screens

open colas hold stinging bees

AC units buzz like hives

plastic chairs hold sweaty thighs.

In dirty alleys dumpsters reek

of weekend’s street fair Bar-B-Q

Shiny sweaty commuters squeeze

in trains that squeal

in buses that shriek.

Traffic slows to neon orange

vibrates with Camaros’ booms

Sunburns bubble, kids start trouble

mosquitoes bite, West Nile strikes.

Stormwatches crawl across the screen

Slurpee-sticky kids sport prickly heat

Heat stroke takes the young and old,

while lawnmowers drone and tornadoes roam.

Keep your days

when perennials bloom

sunset waits

and humidity zooms.

When weeds retreat

reward me with quiet

a muffling January snow

a bulky sweater

an excuse for a fireplace

foamy hot chocolate

a bug-free, see-your-breath starry night

a snow-day world that stands still

like skaters in a snow globe.

Art

In spite of the above poem, I love a beach day. Whenever, I don’t know what to paint, I paint a beach.

People seem to love or hate beaches. For some, it’s the sand that finds its way into the bedsheets. But there’s a crispness in the air. Voices are muted by the sounds of the water. The vastness of the horizon sparks the imagination.

Do you have a favorite beach? Mine is the Kathy Osterman Beach near Hollywood in Chicago. It’s massive. As a kid, I would walk there from our Edgewater apartment nearly every summer day. I’d wonder what’s going on out there in the water? In the deepest depths? What are its creatures doing? What’s at th

e bottom? How many cameras, sunglasses, bottles of sunscreen, and pieces of jewelry have found their way to the bottom over the years? Did you ever lose anything in a body of water?

I’d love to know.

What’s Behind the Paywall?

10 Ways to Survive Healthcare

I’m not a doctor or nurse, and I’ve never played one on TV, but I survived breast cancer, leukemia, knee replacement, sinus surgery, an angiogram, Covid, and a slew of other maladies, so I’ve learned a few things. Subscribe to read some tips that kept me​ somewhat sane​.

Dad and Gramps at Breakfast

In 1978, my dad returned to his hometown in Lansing, Iowa; population 1000. He was always a late sleeper, so about 1 p.m. Dad got up and decided to make eggs and ham for himself and Gramps. Listen to a five-minute piece of their conversation.