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Tuesday, August 9, 2011


"I see you're a fan of Robert Frost," he said, as I concluded reading a sheaf
of my poems for our writers' group.

Actually, I'm not.  Neither is my favorite writing role poet, memoirist, playwright,
or novelist, though these are all genre in which I write.

The 'favorites' question has perplexed me since childhood.  The question
implies a demand for an unambiguous answer.  Decisions are hard for me.
Today I may wear turquoise, red,  or gray.  It all depends, upon what will go
together with what I wore yesterday into the next load of laundry, whether
the sun is shining or not, and/or the available options of clothing appropriate
for the company and situations in which the day's activities will take place.
So what is the point of stating a preference, anyway, when, in lieu of reasons
to the contrary, that preference is open to change and any number of

Oh, I have preferences of type.  I will read memoirs and period or culture-
specific writings, both sacred and secular, as opposed to murder mysteries
and science fiction.  But that's just me.  I may indeed read any or all of these,
given a fondness for the author, historical basis, experiential affinity, or highly
recommended quality of writing.

I like deep male voices, sunny days, happy colors, little children, new
friends, learning new things.  I like sound sleep, good writing, smooth or
grand music, talking with a friend.  I like the feel of a book in hand, the
softness of a rose petal, and butter, potatoes.  (Oh, you've caught me there,
potato is far and away my favorite vegetable.)

Every inventory in view of the favorites question brings me to the same
conclusion. While I don't have much to say about favorite anything, I do
tend to pay attention to the ordinary.  In that way, I think like Robert Frost.
But I am not a fan.