I've decided to write the speech about my grandmother. She is 90 years old and since she won't be around much longer, I've been reflecting on her life and legacy. My inheritance won't be anything temporal or as temporary or as tacky as money. My inheritance is the ability to tell a story. My grandmother is a storyteller, and a midwife, and a homebirther. I follow in her footsteps. There was so much yet I wanted to learn from her, herbal remedies, how to "put up" jellies, how to pick greens- but I'm afraid I've lost my chance. I have a hunger for her stories. I want to gobble them down whole. I collected them one at a time, like plucking daisies from the ground. I wanted to discover her through her stories. I intended to write them down. I still want to tell her stories. I'll start with this speech.
I had lunch with Valtra yesterday (the African-American lactation consultant). She asked me to collaborate with her on a book about lactation in the African-American community. I'm thrilled and honored. I haven't done a collaborative project in years. I think we'll make a fabulous book together and the title is fabulous. (Unfortunately, I can't tell yet). She's working on the outline and I'm fishing for a publisher. Yet another adventure begins. We're hoping to get it written in about six months.
Amazingly I've been meeting my writing deadlines this week, even though I've been teaching CPR classes out the wazzou (I've always wondered how to spell that). I've turned in one article on workplace safety and completed two more proposals. I have now have two birth articles left to write by Saturday. This week has been a killer- up at the crack of dawn to teach 8 hour classes, then up till midnight every night writing. So this is my life, my legacy, and my inheritance.