When I first started writing this blog, I imagined it might become a place where readers could not only follow my stories but maybe share a few of their own. I pictured a place where people could talk about the moments that shaped them, the lessons they learned and the memories they still carry. I even thought I might invite suggestions for topics for me to explore.
I never followed through. Not because I didn’t want to but because I wasn’t sure anyone would take the risk. Every once in a while, a long-time reader tells me what type of story they prefer to read. When I ran into my friend Carole the other day, she told me she preferred stories about “family”. I think some of my family stories may rekindle memories about hers.
I took a look inside my back office yesterday. That’s where the statistics about my blog are kept. Over the last three years, people from seventy-three countries have read at least one of my stories. Peeing in the Pool, Kissing Cousins, and The Music Box remain my top three most read. I think they open up if you do a web search using those words. I’ve never done it, so I really don’t know.
If you’ve been following along for a while, you know I’ve covered all sorts of topics: memories, family, friends, my career, reinvention, and whatever life happens to throw my way. After Ruth died, people warned me that if someone wanted to “get to know me in a hurry,” all they had to do was read my blog. My sisters worried that some gold‑digging woman might show up on my doorstep because, in their words, “you’re a catch.” I haven’t met any gold-diggers. Catch or no catch.
Here’s the truth. Writing openly has never felt like a risk to me. It’s felt like a lifeline through all kinds of times both good and bad. Right after Ruth died, I told my boys that I was going to stop writing for a while. They told me I couldn’t. I had to keep moving forward, so I have. I’ve shared a lot of things.
One reader thanked me for sharing my stories about loss, saying, “One day, my wife or I will be in your shoes. Your stories are helping me prepare.” I never thought about them that way. They were just a dumping ground for my grief.
You may have a story you’ve carried for years, a moment that changed you, or a memory that still shines or stings. Maybe it’s something you learned the hard way. If you’ve surprised yourself or found your way again after taking one of life’s detours, I’d be interested in reading it.
You don’t have to be a writer. You don’t have to polish it. You don’t have to impress anyone. You just have to be human and willing to share. If you have something, send it my way. I’ll treat it with care. If you’d rather, I’ll simply read it privately. Maybe your thoughts will wake up some of mine.
I’ve learned that connection often begins with a small, quiet invitation. This is mine. If you want to take a shot, I’m here. roberttebo47@gmail.com
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