Found my voice- played my own game and “dug deep down to the bottom of my soul and I cried.” Unlike Morales in “A Chorus Line,” who felt nothing, I felt everything. My personal expose through a panoply of song. My take away is my words rang true for so many of you. Through my 99 posts I ran the gamut from immense joy to crying intensely with pen in hand. Music, grandchildren, some politics, disappointment in family connections, conversely penetrating love for family. I named it, felt it and streamlined my blog through my distinguishable voice. As I reach a milestone b-day this year I accomplished a long sought after goal. This makes my 100th post. Phew! The pleasure was all mine. On the precipice of publishing a grouping of them I blush to myself. The process lifted me up, brought me to my knees. I’m more focused as I fine tuned my priorities in therapy like fashion. I examined and roto rootered what makes me tick and what role sublime plays in my story. Apparently lot’s of our stories. 

I am leaving nothing for the swim back. The intermix of inspiration, reprimand and determination, left no room for resignation. I delighted with pride in the responses, followers and admiration my words received. It reinforced how so not alone I am in so many values, beliefs and expectations. Poetic license allowed me to be braver than I am. I undressed my soul through bringing my inner most configurations public. I am cool with being liked and cooler with not caring how big my proverbial Rolodex is. My anthropological side (lol)-came to full expression. I amazed myself through remembering almost every word to so many T.V. show’s introductory songs. Really, you try it. Can’t believe how readily I remembered That Girl meeting Rhoda to share Car 54– the Uber ride of the 60’s. My knowledge of musical tunes from the American songbook era, rock and roll show tunes and the beat goes on… astounded me. Prolific in minutia. My compilations of memories helped to heal my soul in chicken soup fashion.

I shared memories of old school day friends and it helped strengthen our hearts. I taped into present day dilemma’s and how everything old is new again. Through my writing adventure, I exhumed memories of my parents and primordial family with euphoric recall. I prioritized, internalized and like a piano with 88 keys some of my scripting, although different in song, sounded alike. 

So here I am a 100 blog poster. I look forward to my publication. I will be in Jerusalem on my b-day this year. I will stand at the wailing wall, thank my lucky stars, because I so well know, now more than ever- through every run on sentence- I never walked alone. It’s a wrap!

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