The Reading of the Blog

Diann, Kathee, and me.

Every morning my sister Diann reads my blog to me over the telephone. The blog doesn't take its first breath until the moment Diann gives me her impression. She is either laughing hysterically, wiping a tear, saying "That's nice, Barb. That's a good one", or checking her Facebook page immediately after speaking the last word. It is the latter reaction that I worry about. When I started this blog, I had no idea that it would deepen our connection the way it has. If I don't talk to her everyday, it feels like something is missing from my life.

I love sharing the stories of my youth and my family, especially when my sisters or Aunt Bonnie (who reads from Facebook) remember these times with me. It is a family reunion from afar.

ANOTHER Easter photograph.

Even my youngest sister Kathee, who lives in Texas, is a faithful reader and although we don't talk every day, I feel a connection with her through the blog. I know she is reading every word, remembering our Grandparents, Edwardsburg, and so much more right along with me.

The downside of this is that there are some topics I do not write about, for fear of offending or hurting or downright pissing them off. You ain't never seen a hornet's nest like the one my sisters can whip up! It is an eternal dilemma of the writer...you can say anything about yourself but you had better tread lightly when it comes to those who know you.

And ANOTHER Easter photograph.

A great example of this is a very funny story about my nephew Archie (his name is changed to protect the guilty). I could never tell the world about the time I told him to go pee between some cars when he was very little, and he did just that. Except he peed his pants. I imagine if I told the whole story right here in this blog, he would jump in his Mopar and drive all the way from Indianapolis to wring my neck. Woops, did I just give away his identity? Sorry Archie!

I never dreamed that a simple exercise in daily musings would bring me such joy in connecting with my sisters. I sure love them. The sisters, I mean.