Author Archives: bmwillson1936

About bmwillson1936

I was born with writer's DNA, but it receded to the depths of my soul when I encountered the bitter facts of life.Much later after five decades of living I was assigned by my employer to write legal conveyances of land documents, and this drew out my natural love of words and putting ideas into the paper prison. Thus began my quest for publication.The road was long and bumpy, with occasional pitfalls, but I'm staying on until I can no longer put words on the paper that make any sense or serve no valid purpose. Here's to rebirth and the celebration of writing

“A Life of Meaning The Meaning of Life” ??? OR I might just call it “Soup”

Preface Is it soup yet? Ah, soup! Soup is comforting stuff that makes shoveling snow on a cold winter day bearable. Soup is a wonderful life-sustaining conglomeration of nourishing ingredients that are as diverse as life itself. Soup means many … Continue reading

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I’m Trying

I’m getting better and I think I’ll try this again. Most of the fog and fuzz are gone, and I’m going to therapy for my leg and my back. when I fell on my head I scrambled the grey matter … Continue reading

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Excused Absence

Fellow Bloggers, I apologize for being AWOL I had  surgery on my low back (L1 -L 5) eighteen days ago and then the fifty-four staples removed ten days ago.  I haven’t been able to do much writing with all that going … Continue reading

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The following is another product of my random writing exercises. I’ve been thinking a lot about this subject lately.  Control seems to be the thing that the younger generation wants more than anything else.  Control is power, and power brings … Continue reading

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We just moved moved for the umpteenth time, once again to be closer to our family. we only got closer to three fourths of them but at least we are all in the same state for now. I looked back at … Continue reading

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Ode to Christmas

           By Bill Willson       No more carols in the cold winter night,      No more trees green, blue or white;      No more packages tied up with bows;      Christmas has gone wher e’er  it goes.      We … Continue reading

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Secret Santas

    By Bill Willson I was four almost five. It was 1940, my dad was a recovering alcoholic working on a WPA project, and we were poor, but I didn’t know any of that stuff. It was the first year … Continue reading

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