By George Smith
As major milestones in life approach, it’s been my style, so to speak, to do a personal inventory of…me.
Who am I? What have I done? What have I done that has been worthwhile, that has contributed to the betterment of the community at large?
I have been a part of amazing and worthwhile developments: Jason, Mattie, Brandie, Cameron are my proudest co-accomplishments.
But on a more earthly, human level, I am a writer. I must write to truly feel alive.
I write because I must, because the thoughts that swirl inside need freedom. That does not mean I am personally Trump-proud of the words that flow or that I want readers to heed my words as the Gospel According to St. George. To me, writing is an addictive obsession, a harbinger calling to read, research, analyze, think.
I have never written a single, focused phrase (or blurred one, for that matter) trying to change anyone’s mind. Ever.
But if any words that have ever passed through my fingers caused one person to truly “think” about their situation, belief or preference, then I believe I have accomplished something worthwhile.
Too many people today do not think, being content to be in the lemming-clan, kowtowing to mass-think, relieved to be released from the tiring process of reading, researching, analyzing, and thinking.
As my 75th birthday closers in, I thank God I never fell into the trap of just reacting and following the herd and … not expressing my hopes, dreams, opinions and beliefs in a straightforward manner, warts and all.
At this time in my life, all is good.
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