While there are a lot of semi-understood reasons muddled together in my head, there are three big and clear reasons. First, memory. I've alluded to the fact that my children -- no, I've stated it outright, several times -- live several hundred miles away from me. I'm putting down some of what matters to me so that they will have a record of some things that are important to me. For that matter, I want to have a record to look back on. Second, sorting it out. Doing this helps me to clarify what I'm thinking. Third, polishing my writing. I've always had a way with technical writing. This isn't a brag, it's simply the truth. I took a couple of creative writing class back in my college days, from Doris Betts and Lee Smith, and I believe that in two semesters, I produced one half-way passable story. I don't have any bad novels stored away in a trunk, and I'm not interested in taking that path right now, anyway. No, what I want to do is become a decent essayist. So, here I am.
