Wednesday, June 22, 2022

Thinking out loud

Do you keep a journal?  Do you write in it daily?  This blog is my "journal," which is wide open for anyone to read.  Here's an example:  Three days ago, I posted black-and-white photos of two families — both mine, but at different times in my life:  one showing me with my husband and our children, and one showing my parents with their first two children.  I'm the oldest, and my brother was the toddler in Daddy's lap.  The nice thing about journaling in a blog is being able to include photos like those.  Writing in a journal, as in this illustration, records my memories.  However, scrawling the words by pen is also less legible and cannot be corrected — well, except by marking through the words and leaving a mess.  Blogging my journal means I can share memories with my children and grandchildren.  And maybe even great-grandchildren years from now, unless Blogger deletes the whole thing.  It's kind of like I'm thinking out loud.  Okay, so I guess I'm weird, thinking of these kinds of things.
Oooh, I just remembered that Thinking Out Loud is the title of a book by Anna Quindlen, one of my favorite authors.  Here's the book, if you are interested:

Thinking Out Loud: On the Personal, the Political, the Public, and the Private ~ by Anna Quindlen, 1993, essays, 320 pages

Thinking out loud is what Anna Quindlen does best.  As a syndicated columnist with her finger on the pulse of women's lives, and her heart in a place we all share, she wrote about the passions, politics, and peculiarities of Americans everywhere.  From gays in the military, to the race for First Lady, to the trials of modern motherhood and the right to choose, Anna Quindlen's views always fascinate.

1 comment:

Helen's Book Blog said...

I kept a journal from age 12 through college. I had 40 volumes and re-read them all just before I got married. I laughed, cried, and realized how awful it would be if other people read them so I shredded them all. I wish I had parts of them still, but other parts, I am glad they are gone from the possibility of anyone else seeing them.