The great thing about life is that every day is a story…

Dear Readers,

I know all of you are big readers–if not, you wouldn’t be reading this blog.  Maybe some of you are writers or storytellers.   Sometimes when something happens, I think–this is a story…  Every day something happens, so….wow!  stories every day.  Some better than others.  But, you know what I mean.

Yesterday my friend, Maria Casales, took the Riverline from Trenton to Camden, hoping to get off at the 36th and River Road Station, verrrrrrrrrrry close to my house.  I was excited because Maria is a great writer, author of The Caregiver, and she had consented to talk to my writing workshop, Woodland Writers.  When she didn’t get off, I phoned her and she answered immediately, “Yes, I missed my stop.”

Being a Camden native, I knew how to pick her up at the Walter Rand Transportation Center, the next stop and there she was.  Maria said that the train stopped so briefly that she couldn’t get off and that happened to another woman, too, who said a lot of expletive-deleteds that Maria would never say to the train operator, nor anyone else.

My Toyota Camry flew to the writing group and we made it by one minute.  Everyone introduced themselves and we found out each others’ favorite sounds– rain, ocean, brook… I was relieved no one said rap because that is my least favorite.  Then, we wrote and read to each other.  It’s amazing (no kidding) what great stories everyone has.  Nothing better than a good story, I say!  I must add we also have great poems created in the group.

Of course, we eat on the break and food is up there on the good list.  What is better?  Good food, a good poem or a good story?  I guess it depends how hungry you are for a chocolate chip cookie, or a poem about……….. or a story about …………  Oops, I never tell what others write.  That’s the premise of our group.

After we ate, Maria talked about how everyone’s discipline in writing was different.  She told us that she had set a goal to publish her book by the end of a decade in her life.   She explained how she decided to self-publish her book and why?  You can find out in one of her blogs,

At the end of the afternoon, we went to the 36th Street Riverline Station and a solemn man twice as tall as Maria and me put together and twice as wide (slight exaggeration) saw us shivering.  He said, “Here.  This spot is sheltered and warmer.”  We protested, but he insisted and we moved into that less windy spot.

Maria and I bid each other good-bye on that platform warmed by kindness.  I watched Maria enter the car and, dang!  there was not even a pole for her to grab, much less a seat.

Then, a teen-age boy stood up and motioned for Maria to take his seat.  The train whizzed away and I felt happy that the people coming from Camden and the man on that platform would leave Maria with a good feeling about my city.

Hope your day was a good story!


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