WORDWALK Celebrates Ninth Anniversary

WORDWALK Celebrates Its Ninth Anniversary

By Alice Jane-Marie Massa

                Not only am I amazed that my braille calendar reminds me that this year is 2022, but I am also amazed that my WORDWALK blog has been a part of my retirement life for nine years.  Averaging fifty posts a year means that I may write my five hundredth post in the upcoming December.  Besides thanking all of my longtime and newer WORDWALK readers, I once again am very happy to give my special gratitude to my friend Jenna who helped me tremendously in setting up this blog.  Through the years, maintaining this blog has been challenging due to periodic changes on Word Press; nevertheless, with help and advice infrequently from computer techs, the tiny miracle of my being able to post my essay, memoir, story, or poem continues most often every Wednesday evening.  Each week, I am grateful to know that seventy-one of my followers do receive my writing via e-mail while others come directly to my website:

https://alice13wordwalk.wordpress.com

From the Word Press statistics, I know that people from thirteen countries have visited my blogsite.  I hope that next January 19, I can celebrate my tenth anniversary of blogging.

                Two of the reasons for my beginning this blog were to preserve family history and to preserve the local history of my Hoosier hometown.  Thus, I am sharing with you on this ninth anniversary blog a very short piece about a part of my hometown of Blanford.  Each week on a writers’ e-mail list to  which I belong, a writer friend posts a prompt which is to be used at least once in a prose piece of only six sentences or in a poem of only six poetic lines.  Since the word/prompt-of-the-week was “shelter,” I wrote the following short piece last night.  If you enjoy this slice of a memoir, I encourage you to write a six-sentence piece focusing on the word “shelter” or on another word of your own choosing.

The Shelters at Blanford Park

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

                Within our rural hometown of approximately four hundred residents nestled our Blanford Park.  From one hill on the north side, one could walk down the steep slope and over one of the three wooden foot bridges to the flat main area of the park.  Continuing up a sloping hill, one would encounter the grandstand and ball diamond.  Between the two hills were three shelters:  the largest one on the south side of the ambling creek was for music and dancing while the shelter on the southwest side of the creek sold concessions.  On the north side of the creek was the newest shelter where we played bingo and where I learned that not all residents were as superior bakers as my mother and Mrs. Perona who made the best lattice-topped cherry pie.  Now I shelter these hometown memories within the documents of my computer.

POST-SCRIPT OF THE SEASON

                Since I am posting this piece in January, I will add that I recall taking our wooden sleds to the park and sledding down the hill on the south side of the creek.  Unlike Wisconsin winter fashion, we did not wear down coats, but wool coats or jackets.  My sister and I had red plaid scarves for keeping our faces warm.  On a snowy day, what fun we had on the sloping, snow-covered hill of Blanford Park.  When we were young, wasn’t snow a highly anticipated treat and delight?  My cousin Carole and I tried to think that if the first snowfall arrived on the nineteenth of the month, we would have nineteen snows that winter–not exactly meteorologically sound.  After moving to Wisconsin in 1991, I heard that school children in this state put a spoon under one’s pillow at night to bring forth a “snow day” (day with no school) the next morning.  Undoubtedly, the spoon represented a very small snow shovel.

Wishing you happy winter memories and

Sending you many thanks for reading WORDWALK!

Alice and Leader Dog Willow

January 19, 2022, Wednesday

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