Time to count those blessings...

Click this post's headline to find out how you can help with the Hurricane Katrina disaster relief efforts.

I called the American Red Cross at 1-800-HELP-NOW tonight and we did our bit.

I feel a little guilty because when I have had enough, I turn off the tv and try to stop thinking about it. I cannot fathom what it might be like to lose everything and be fighting for my life in sewage-filled streets, battling water-borne diseases and gun-wielding robbers, hunger and dehydration and desperation. I heard a story today of a beautiful 10-year-old boy who sat alone in a shelter, his entire family killed in the disaster. No home, no family, no belongings, no friends, no school, nothing to claim as his own. How does one recover from that? Is it possible? I'm not sure anyone knows.

Hug your families. Tell people you love them. Say a little thank you when you...
wake up in your own bed
eat food from your fridge
take a shower
flush the toilet
brush your teeth
drink clean water
...and so on.

Maybe it takes a disaster like this to remind one just how crucial are the small things we take for granted.

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So, I Changed My Mind

More than four years ago, the blog and I parted ways. I needed a change. A whole lot happened in my world since then. I switched jobs a couple times. My kid went from an elementary school tween to a teenage high schooler. We built a new house and moved. Both my parents and my sister have passed. The world around me changed as well. Mass shootings, racism, the #metoo movement, a misogynistic bigoted narcissist in the White House ... go ahead, add to the list. Toss your woes into this dumpster fire we call 2019. I appreciate my previous sentiment, that I was no longer wandering. But let's be honest, we're all trying to find our way through this mess. I decided to reboot the blog to give myself a creative outlet, a way to sort through the confusion and frustration and attempt to make sense of it all. I have a voice, and I'm not keen to silence it anymore. Guess what? I'm back, bitches.

In memoriam...

I remember the first time I heard the name "Les Anderson." A bunch of Wichita State University communication majors were sitting around on campus, talking about classes they planned to take. Several people warned me: watch out for Les Anderson. He was tough. He had a murderous grading scale. It was nearly impossible to get an A. They weren't kidding. But he wasn't tough just to be a tyrant. From his teaching sprang a fleet of incredible, successful journalists, writers, editors, broadcasters, public relations experts, advertisers, non-profit professionals...I could go on and on. Most importantly, he created a legion of people who wanted to make a difference in the world. The greatest gift Les gave to them all? He believed in them, cared about them for their own personal stories as well as the stories they told for class assignments or in the pages of his hometown newspaper. Les was my teacher. My boss. My mentor. My conscience. My champion. My friend. When I started c...

WanderingAmylessly 2.0

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