The Gift

Merry Christmas Eve everyone. Through some stroke of magic I have written 199 posts. How fitting that my 200th blog coincides with Christmas. Thanks for taking this wild and crazy ride with me. We may not always agree, but I will keep interesting.
I digress. I found an old Christmas gift.  It isn’t worth a dime,  but the value of most treasures can’t be found in their resale value. Every artist goes through periods of time that they doubt their own talent.  Like that writing thing I do, I mean really what full fledged adult tells stories for a living? I haven’t been writing like I should lately.  Since I am avoiding doing so like the plague I had a little extra time on my hands.  I decided to go through some old boxes and clean house. That brother of mine did it again and now that he’s grown he doesn’t need the threat of graham crackers and juice to get me back on track.  He uses trickery like the poem below. I’m telling you he’s evil. He’s always acting all innocent about it though. But you and I know he’s evil, simply evil.


By  J.Wheaton  December 1998

Gifted, talented writing and reciting

She expresses thoughts and actions in poetic journeys

Addressing issues of love, pain,  happiness and anything concerning

The heart, mind the soul,

It comes natural to her

At least least that’s what I was told

Rhyme and reason

Expressing  the season

Vocalizing a poetess at work

She turns the world into words

The people, the places, feelings and sometimes even birds

I hope, I pray, I believe she be lifted

Lord because she is so incredibly gifted

The “gift” is  an old journal my brother gave me for Christmas in 1998. It was filled with poems and book outlines long forgotten.  Often what makes gifts special isn’t the price tag it is the thought and the sentiment behind them. That ladies and gentlemen is what I found in that dusty old box. to me it  is more priceless than the Queen of England‘s treasure chest. The inscription on the first page of the book was the poem above  GIFTED written by my brother. I guess he thought if he didn’t mention the journal was for writing I may not know what to do with it.  When I found the journal I almost cried. No, of course it didn’t move me to tears I mean it’s just a book, and now that I think of it the dust is probably what caused my eyes to water, if they did indeed water. Besides it was like 4 am. Everyone’s eyes water when they are tired and can’t sleep. I asked my brother if  I could share the poem, he obliged of course.  Come on I keep telling you I’m his idol did you think he’d say no. Stop your nonsense. The best thing about the treasure I found this morning is it reminded me we all have assignments and journeys. Mine for what ever reason is writing.  So now that I took a brief sabbatical it’s time I get back to it. I have a few books to write.   Treasure can’t always be measured in dollars. One of my best treasures is the man who used to be my baby brother now he’s a grown ass man doing big things. I love you bro. Thanks for giving me something special to write about for my 200th blog.

For those of you who have been on this journey with me since the very beginning you have heard my tales about alleged sibling rivalry and growing up with a younger brother who was a BUG A BOO.  The Bug a Boo grew up and became one of my best friends. When you’re parents are crazy- not saying ours are-  but who else will understand the antics of your parents but your brother or sister?  I have a short list of calls I make no matter how good or bad the news is. At the top of the list is my  brother. I  must say he has grown into a hell of man, he gives great advice, and I’m extremely proud of him. We have quite a few adventures together I’ll keep you posted on our hi jinx along the way. Here’s to 200… Happy Holidays.


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