It’s the thing that draws me to a particular story. It has to be there, in order for me to spend the time with an idea required to develop it into a story. I have to care about what I’m writing about.
One of the projects on which I’m working has introduced me to a whole new level of connection with my subject. It changed my life. Mary, pictured above, changed my life. Fifty years separated us, and more than ninety years separated her and my niece, also in the above photo. And yet, here we are, literally connected via our linked arms. Mary passed away last month at 103 years old. A couple of years ago, she was open to meeting with me. She shared her story, her wit, her knowledge, her love of life. And mine has never been the name. Thank you, Mary. I’m plugging way on our book. Don’t you worry.