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In 1965 I wrote a few short entries in one of those little red five year diaries.  I was 12 years old and already had the sense I wanted to memorialize moments from my life.  Fast-forward a couple of Christmases and I received my reel-to-reel tape recorder.  I recorded my grandfather telling silly stories, my mother singing, and the Princess Phone conversations I had with my boyfriend, mostly because I just knew that someday all of this would be funny.

Then I hankered for a Super 8 movie camera which I received at 15. The following Christmas my parents gifted me a Kodak MovieDeck Projector which meant I could finally view and share my films. Early on, when I shot indoors I had to attach a blinding light to the top of the camera.  Therefore many scenes were not exactly candid (except for the ones with my grandmother or aunt emerging from the bathroom in early morning disarray).  Still, seeing foolish family moments flickering from the projector felt intoxicating, and I continued to document my friends and family (and myself) for decades.

Always, I wanted to save – and savor – the funny.

Fast forward fifty plus years and you can see that’s still my motto: Savor the funny.

That motto, that life view, undergirds most of my experiences and has helped me navigate good times, as well as painful moments.  Like everyone, I’ve had my ups and downs, but unlike everyone, for decades I detailed them in my diaries.  Through the passage of time and a seasoned perspective, many of my painful moments turned out to be among the funniest events in my life (Beauty Pageant, Heartbreaks, Countless Klutzy Moments…), anecdotes I love to share in print, in person, and now – unbelievably – with an enthusiastic online fan base.

Even at 70, I still delight in unintended foolishness.  This past summer aided by my four-pronged cane, I was ambling along a walkway.  Two women probably my age were coming towards me and one of them pointed to my cane and said, “Is that fun?”  Then before I could respond, she put her hand to her mortified mouth, and said, “I’m SO SORRY. I thought that was a metal detector.”  My first thought was, “This is hilarious,” and my second thought was, “Hey, that’s not a bad idea for a product: a combination cane and metal detector.”  

My next thought was that I needed to comfort this embarrassed woman, so I assured her I was not the least bit insulted, upset or otherwise negatively impacted.  Told her that her words were exactly what might have shot out of my unfiltered mouth had I seen my cane and me, and that coincidentally I’d recently been thinking about how fun it would be to own a metal detector.

I did not tell her that I could not wait to share this funny tidbit with my friends and family.  Nor did I mention that a wider audience might hear about it, too.  

Just seven months ago Hilary and I started our podcast and began filming our “This Is Where” and other videos. The exposure we’ve received is beyond anything I could ever have imagined and the response from our followers has, to use a seventies phrase, blown my mind.  I really don’t know quite what to think of it all, but I do know we’re having loads of fun – and savoring every minute of it.

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