That’s me, Russell Lott, age 16 and seated center,
with a few of my cousins at Papa Bond's place in the
Beatrice Community of southeast Stone County, Mississippi (July 1970).
Welcome
For many years now, I’ve wished to put a few things in writing, sharing some of my thoughts and experiences, and some of the pursuits and interests I enjoy most, doing it in a way that would engage others with similar tastes. Of course, a blog will do all that–it’s not a new concept–but my earlier hesitations to starting such a project have been manifold: I won’t have time for it, maybe when I retire; there are thousands of blogs out there–probably millions; do I have anything to say, and who would want to read it Well, I am now retired (twice retired, in fact) and I have the time. Yes, there are beaucoup blogs in the blogosphere, some are really great, well-written and creative, many are quite dreadful, a few are wonderfully mediocre but provide a needed release for their creators and maintain a small but loyal following. My blog probably won’t generate a nickel’s worth of attention, but if it falls into that latter category, I’ll be okay with that—I can handle mediocrity. The truth is, I’m doing this for myself. Plus, this coronavirus-quarantine-thing of late has cast a whole new layer of impetus on my nagging notion that I should do this now.
But where to start such a project? With only a few poorly thought-out ideas for content and a format, I read through a small text file I keep on my PC’s desktop simply called “I Love…” It’s a file I created a few years ago, and have sporadically updated since, where I write on each line a short statement about an item that interests me. There are well over a hundred little snippets in this file that to some degree help to encapsulate who I am and what I’ve been thinking. Many entries relate to music, many to wordplay, others to my favorite books, movies, podcasts, and pastimes. More than a few entries hit more than one of these buttons simultaneously (for example, “I love the wordcraft in the lyric phrase ‘hurry-home drops on her cheek’ in Chuck Berry’s song Memphis”). Some are silly and some are too personal to share here. With this file as a jumping off point, along with a few old family photos and some of the reminiscences of my youth, I hope to find enough fodder to sustain, at least for a while, an outlet that satisfies my urge to create something. And if someone else might find it interesting, well, all the better.
Russell Lott
March, 2020
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I don’t have to tell you, life is not always tidy. Stuff happens. It’s a simple existential observation, similar to c'est la vie: life is full of unpredictable events. Incidents and accidents sneak up on the best of us, particularly when we least expect it. The worst of these events can leave permanent scars or long-lasting trauma. But if you’re lucky, they won’t be that serious and the grief and anguish will be short-lived, leaving you with interesting stories to tell. Like the time when I was 11 and Daddy, Keith, and I and JoJo, Daddy’s best bird dog, were in the cab of our pickup riding down an old road—an overgrown path, really—a couple of miles from our home in Big Level.