Sands and Stars

Hunting certainly is not a sport in which I'd take part. It's absolutely not my style. But earlier today, I felt the urge to take a break from college football watching and hurricane preparation. A hunting I will go, I decided. I was motivated by the words of a former colleague, who read my initial blog post yesterday in which I mentioned my first-ever newspaper published piece. He said, “Made me wish I could read the early article you wrote . . . do you still have it?” (Thanks, Dave!). Indeed. Somewhere. So I decided to go hunting. It was a frustrating search, and I fought off the occasional voracious dust bunnies. There were several paper cuts. But at last, success! There, buried in a pile of papers beneath one of my family's classic Bibles, I found the old clipping. My mother had set it aside for safekeeping when I was a 15-year-old fledgling writer, and I discovered it in the same, but yellow, plastic cover. With the help of modern technology, I am able to share with yo

Can childhood memories inspire a retired writer and editor to create a lively and interesting blog? Come along with me deep into the last century and let's see. As her young son watched closely, Dorothy Gray Zapadka deftly added colors to an assortment of paint-by-number pictures. It was the start of her artist career in the early 1960s. Before long, my mother left behind the numeric coloring guides, and began doing paintings of her own, many of which won ribbons and other prizes in local competitions. Soon, she graduated to creating pottery, though I much preferred her paintings. And in what seemed like a jiffy, my dear Dorothy was president of the Ellwood City Art Club. It was a highly successful and active organization in my hometown in Western Pennsylvania. I remember a bevy of inspiring art that was produced. My mother was the leader of that pack. I was so proud. While I like to say artistic talent ran in my family, I point out quickly that the talent ran out before it got to