Tales from the Rushmore Kid

Of Storytelling and Storyteller Dolls - Barbara Jean Hicks

It's been a very emotional week. Yesterday a new owner closed on my mom and dad's house, a one-story house my dad had built for my mom fourteen years ago when she could no longer easily climb stairs, a house that has been my home for the last year and a half since my dad passed away and my mom has been in assisted living. A house that holds many stories, even though its bones are relatively young.

Except for the large furniture, I did most of the moving myself, taking many trips back and forth between Mom's house and the house I'm moving into. Many precious objects--precious because imbued with emotion and memories--have passed through my hands in the last few weeks. One of those is a doll, a sitting ceramic figurine, mouth open, with seven tiny figures sitting in its lap and draped across its shoulders--a Puebo Storyteller Doll.

On Putting Yourself Out There - Barbara Jean Hicks

Between Tuesday and Thursday this week I traveled 2400 miles round trip by plane. I ended up with five plane changes, two one way and three the other. (Okay, they were small planes, but I admit, not quite as small as the one in the picture! And yes, that's me. The one on the right. As if you couldn't tell.)

We're talking five seat mates on this short business trip. Lots of opportunities to engage, make connections, be curious, find out things that might be useful to me as a writer. Right?

But that's not me. I'm reserved by nature. Shy. Self-effacing. Concerned about being a bother. So when I fly, I always have my Kindle and my iPad with me. I read. I play Scrabble. My electronic devices keep me from having to come up with something to say.

The downside is--not coming up with something to say keeps me from life. REAL life. Engaging, making connections, being curious, finding out things that might be useful to me as a writer--not to mention enrich my experience of life immensely.