Author: Linda Wright

Linda Wright, author of "My Turn: When Caregiving Roles Reverse," now lives in Florida. She has served on the boards of organizations serving people with rare, genetic bleeding disorders like hers. As a writer, she has contributed to several anthologies and is a member of the Tallahassee Writers Association. Linda is married to the Reverend Ms. Robin Gray.

The Privacy Struggle in the Digital Age

~ Linda Wright

When I was young my mother insisted we have a party line on our phone. It was less expensive. I was trained to only answer the phone if it rang with two short rings. We never knew who picked up when the phone rang in other patterns. If I picked up the phone and heard someone else talking I was instructed to put the phone back on the receiver quickly but gently and never to listen in to what the other people on the line were saying to each other.

Guarding privacy is so much more difficult today than it once was. I can’t tell who is looking at what I post on social media or what they are trying to learn about me. The privacy policy statements that arrive in my email are written in enough legalese that I find them unintelligible. Strangers are able to peek into what I believe, what I desire, and how I vote. What used to be considered spying is now considered a security measure done in the name of safety. Businesses and special interest groups collect data on me in the name of providing me with what I want. Sometimes if I get what I want I get more than I need.

Day 27 (of 31 days of free writing)

Fresh Ingredients from the Farmer’s Market for Soup

~ Linda Wright

We left the farmer’s market this morning lugging our canvas bags full of greens, turnips, eggplant and Satsuma oranges. We had a few cool days last week. I actually had to wear a sweater one day. That started me dreaming of making soup. I planned to cook a pot of kale and turnip greens mixing in some carrot, mushrooms, some diced tomatoes, and white beans. I could almost smell the simmering pot full of broth seasoned with sautéed onion and herbs. By afternoon, when the temperature had risen to 85°, I felt a bit less enthusiasm for the project. I think to myself, perhaps tomorrow if I get up early. Until then I will just have to savor the anticipation of my first homemade bowl of soup this autumn.

Day 26 (of 31 days of free writing)

The Art of Poetry: Confusion and Clarity

~ Linda Wright

Each day I read at least one poem. It’s become a habit in the past few years. It’s also a quest to understand poetry. Having never taken a poetry class, I have little understanding of what the elements of a poem should be. Rather like art, I know what I like and what does not appeal, but I have little understanding of why. Often the punctuation confuses me, as does the way the lines are broken up. There are poems where only one or two lines will jump out at me as meaningful.

I take a rather random approach to selecting my daily poem, letting it arrive in my email inbox or on a podcast. Some days I even spin the poetry app on my phone. Some of the poems I read leave me feeling rather confused. I assume that those poems did appeal to other readers. Some days a poem leaves me feeling comforted that I am not alone. Then there are days when I am simply in awe of the craft of arranging words in unconventional patterns until they create meaning where before I saw only chaos.

Day 25 (of 31 days of free writing

Roots and Trees: A Familial Legacy in Nova Scotia

Graywood Cemetery
~ Linda Wright

My grandfather and great grandfather cleared forests to build homes and establish farms in Nova Scotia, Canada. They made their living chopping down trees for timber, rolling logs down Bear River, loading them into cargo for shipment abroad. Now those ancestors are buried in ground sheltered by trees. My family roots are entangled with trees.

I have watched as my uncle split wood and fill the cast iron stove so that my mother could make breakfast. I have seen the sap drip from a maple tree into a tin bucket and smelled the smoke mingled with the sweet scent of sap boiling until it becomes syrup. I have climbed my grandmother’s apple tree and sat perched on one of its branches. Some of my fondest memories are of trees.

On my front porch there is a pile of cord wood. When the first chill of winter comes. I will strike a wooden match on the side of the stove and hear the crackle as that match catches the tinder and kindling into flame. I will feel the chill leave the air as the heat from the stove warms the dining room.

Most of all I will be grateful for the trees that remain standing. Without them on the planet we would not have clean air to breathe and fresh water to drink.

Day 24 (of 31 days of free writing)

The Charm of Open Windows in North Florida

~ Linda Wright

It is finally cool enough outdoors in North Florida that we can open windows. The cat could not be happier. We all enjoy the sounds of birds chirping and the squirrels rustling in the dry leaves. We can hear some traffic noise and an occasional siren whizzing by on its way to an emergency. I consider it good luck that we don’t hear many other irritating sounds. I like silence.

One of our neighbors uses an old fashioned lawn mower. It requires no gasoline or electricity, just a lot of muscle from the woman who pushes it up and down her sloping yard. Another neighbor has a robot trimming his lawn. I admit when I first saw it I got the giggles. I stared at that little bot in fascination as it crisscrossed in the most illogical way, nibbling little blades of grass without making a sound. It works hard in rain or shine, day and night. I just haven’t quite figured out why it would need headlights. Our property is just a bit shy of an acre. We have so many trees that grass doesn’t thrive. What is not covered by pine needles or magnolia leaves is fern or flowers. No buzzing mower is required.

Day 23 (of 31 days of free writing)