Sunday, July 23, 2017

      As decades passed, why did I report events in my life in such copious detail? Articles published in boating and flying magazines owed their existence to this habit of recording experiences as they happened. Without these chronicles I would doubtless recall a boat sinking and two airplane accidents, a week apart, but their details would have faded.
     I learned that misadventures provided the most satisfactory source for hopefully entertaining letters to my mother and daughter.  The more things turned sour, the more I felt challenged to make lemonade.  With the exception of tragedies, like losing Vonnie and the accident that left Kathie in a wheelchair in 1965, most calamities came with a saving grace.  After rallying from the latest shock, I'd reach for my therapeutic pencil and let it do its thing. Almost always,  my distress would dissipate and a bad day would end on an upbeat note. 

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