It has been a little over two weeks since I started this blog. I was introduced to this on-line notebook by my new BFF, Jane. She started her own blog in January, and simultaneously put herself on Facebook. In a nine week time-span, she has made virtual friends all over the US and parts outside its borders. She has also reconnected with long lost friends and acquaintances. She is a regular reader of several other blogs and was the guest stop on a blog tour of a published author. She is encouraging me to follow her lead.

Yesterday, as I clicked on Jane’s blog and then followed the prompt to the tour, I could feel my heart pound a little faster and my blood pressure begin to rise. I was having a mini panic attack triggered by my old friend, fear. Mr. Fear has been my nemesis. He knows just how to push my insecure button, which causes my tail to tuck between my legs as I head for the hills. Mr. Fear knows that I have run away from making a commitment to writing several times over the past several decades, dating as far back as high school. He would love to see me hang it all up again, another notch in his belt. I have been tempted to let him take the prize once more, but then I remembered that when he showed up five years ago in my room on an Oncology unit, I sent HIM home packing. (If you let fear win when you are battling a life-threatening illness, the chances are good that your choice will be a fatal one.)

I did allow myself to be intimidated by all of the scary places that I will have to go in order to broaden my scope as a writer. I even had to shut off my computer, pick up a cloth and clean house for awhile. (Dust does not scare me one bit.) However, I eventually sat back down at my desk, turned the computer back on, and wrote. I even began re-working a story for a possible submission to a writing contest. Oh Mr. Fear, come out, come out wherever you are……………..

I have a black-and-white photo hanging on a wall in my bedroom.  The young girl whose image is frozen in time is probably three or four years old. One might think that this child is my daughter, but the truth is, I don’t even know her name. The photo was taken in the summer of 1977 at Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana.  My friend, Peggy, and I were on campus participating in a week-long journalism workshop, where we focused on studying photography. Our days were filled with classroom instruction and lots of hands-on experience snapping photos. We then developed the fruits of our labor in a darkroom.

I shot the picture of the young maiden one evening as we passed by her home. She agreed to strike a pose for me, and in an instant, I captured the image that is framed on my wall. She is seated on the edge of her sandbox, clutching a cup or bowl of some kind, most likely a digging and scooping device. She has blond, Shirley Temple curly hair, and a lollipop is firmly implanted between her lips. She is wearing a white, girlie t-shirt and dark shorts, and her feet are housed in a pair of Stride Rites, with one shoelace conveniently untied. She sat perfectly still, looking directly into the lens of my Nikon.

One recent morning, as I lazed in bed soaking up the quiet, my eyes wandered to the photo. I began wondering what had become of my young portrait model. (She would be in her mid-thirties by now.) Did she have a happy childhood? Had she been a rebellious teenager? (In the photo, her eyes have a mischievous stare.) Did her young days spent growing up near a college campus inspire her to pursue a higher education, or did she choose some other career path? Is she someones wife or mother? I’ll never know. Wherever and whoever she is, I hope she is well.

Earlier in the week, I had lots of running around to do-the gym, errands, doctor appointment, etc.  It seemed that everywhere I went, I had positive encounters with complete strangers.  I exchanged some friendly small talk with a woman in my Spinning class. I traded smiles and a “hello” with the woman pumping gas across from me. I shared grins with others as we passed in hallways or out on the street. The trend continued at home, as I received encouraging emails from family and friends.  Was all of this cheeriness the result of a warm, spring-like day? Possibly.

I would like to believe that there was more at play here than just nice weather.  In light of all the bad news that we are bombarded with everyday-rising unemployment, dips and crashes in the Stock Market, foreclosures, wars and more, people are choosing to remain upbeat, and have a need to connect with others-even strangers.

Positive ALWAYS trumps negative.