Janet Hogan Chapman's Blog

Hello friends and Happy New Year! I put the contents of this blog post in the body of the announcement email. If you’d like to re-read, the same content is here. Either way, scroll down to the bottom to comment.

 This will be my last blog post for a while. I feel like 2026 calls for a revamping of my GeorgiaJanet persona. I will be revising this website and the blog. It may take a few months to get it all done. Please be patient and I promise good things to come. I’m looking ahead to new projects, good times, and renewed purpose. My prayer is 2026 will bring God’s blessings for all of us.

Remember when International Olympic Committee President Juan Antonio Samaranch said the Atlanta games were “most exceptional” instead of the traditional “best games ever?” I could use those words to describe this past Christmas/New Years. It was exceptional in a cruel way. It could have been worse- at least nobody died. Without going into detailed explanation I’ll just throw out a few words and phrases:

*Not being with family on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning* Cold Race Trac pizza for Christmas Eve dinner* *Overnight stay at a Sleep Inn* Sobbing breakdowns* *Police* Not getting to see my sister* Drunkenness* *Suicide and homicide threats* A six hour car trip in a Mini-Cooper with three kids and a dog in pouring rain*

Don’t mean to sound like I’m whining or asking for sympathy. Mostly venting but also reflecting on what gets us through troubled times. Yes, it could have been worse as some of you have experienced. We all go through crisis. I had to continually remind myself of the real meaning of the season- the birth of Jesus Christ, joy come down to earth. Claiming that joy is what got me through. Faith has always been my rock in tough times. That and remembering from experience that all things pass.

What gets you through your troubles?

What are you looking forward to in 2026?

Please comment below.

PLAYING FAVORITES

Do you have a favorite GeorgiaJanet book? Why not consider it as a gift this season? Get your shopping done easily and early by ordering now! Available on Amazon or your local bookstore can order for you.

Each one is a stand alone but there are character threads that run through the first four. If you can’t choose a favorite, even better, order a set! Suggested order of reading:

1. Madam May: A tale of madams, morphine, moonshine and murder 2. After Madam May 3. Dorothy May 4. MotherLove (The previous four have the character threads that running through them.)5. The Letter Box 6. This Teacher Talks: What really goes on in America’s schools.

Speaking of Favorites . . .

Do you have a favorite time of day? Just when I think I know when mine is, another time pops into my mind. If you have children or grandchildren and someone asks you which one is your favorite how do you respond? If you have any brains of course you will say they are all favorites! That’s how I am about times of the day. Well, not exactly. Most days have their good parts, but every moment of the day is NOT my favorite. Like the dog waking me up to go out, or someone at the door the minute you get undressed for a shower, or the phone ringing just when you sit down with a big bowl of ice cream.

Even so, in a sense they are all favorites in one regard –  just to be alive. Right now, as I write this, I love seeing a favorite commercial- the Coca-Cola Christmas trucks. I heard there’s been some who didn’t like it, but I adore it. Even it it is AI generated those animals are adorable. Now, bring on the Clydesdales!

But let’s get serious. I was sitting in my rocking chair on my patio admiring the stars on a clear cool night. There are no lights on my stretch of ocean so the view of the night sky is spectacular. I think to myself, this is my favorite time of day, except that it’s night. So as I go on with this piece, let’s consider a day to be a twenty-four-hour period.

What about sunrise on the ocean? Surely that is a favorite time of day too. Or what about the sunsets that color not only the western sky but reflect back onto the ocean on the east? It’s easy to think any time near the ocean can be a favorite.

There are other, more subtle times that could be in the running for favorite time of day. It can be dependent on so much. If it’s a cool rainy morning it could be sitting on my couch, bundled in a blanket, hot coffee in my by my side. On the other side my furbaby Jazz snuggled up next to me. No tv, no talking – just scrolling through emails, messages, Facebook and Insta, with no where I have to be.

If it’s a hot summer day my favorite time could be sitting on the beach, under the Shibumi shade, reading a really good book. On the other hand, if my grandbabies are visiting, it could be splashing in the pool and hearing their beautiful giggles and squeals. Or it could be climbing into bed after a full day of errands and appointments, feeling clean sheets and a cool fan and my Tylenol 3 kicking in to relieve my aches and pains.

When I was younger, in various stages of life, favorite times of the day/night were very different. Instead of peace and quiet, it could be a favorite time to be partying, or having that good night kiss after a date, or the first night we slept in our first house, or drawing in that exquisite smell of a baby after its bath, or riding down the road in back of my beloved on the motorcycle, or cheering one the boys on at baseball, or holding a new grandbaby. Variables? Stages of life, people, weather, time of day, physical and spiritual conditions. Yet we can always find favorites if we take the time and set our minds and hearts to look for them.

In light of the Thanksgiving season, I’m thankful for all these scenarios that can be favorites, each in their own special way. I am thankful for each moment God grants me to be alive. And when the time comes I’m thankful to know heaven awaits.

I am thankful for all of you readers.

Do you have a favorite time of day? How have your favorites changed over the years? Have you seen the new Christmas Coke commercial and do you like it? Do you have a favorite GeorgiaJanet book? Please scroll down and share your thoughts in a comment.

It ain’t easy!

Hello folks. I know I missed September. I hate to claim the ubiquitous paltry excuse, but I’ve been busy! Not the least of which was an extended trip to Atlanta for a family emergency, my birthday, and the 16th annual Jay Chapman Memorial Fund Golf Tournament.  The tournament was a great success again thanks to our many supporters who came out to back this worthy cause. Click on the video below to see events of the day. Bouts with a sinus infection, Achilles tendinitis and other assorted maladies have slowed me down a bit too.

At least I can say part of the busyness has been writing related. I went on a week-long transatlantic writing retreat cruise on the Queen Mary II in early September. We sailed from New York City to Southampton. England. There were other writers and my writing coach on the trip. I went with the specific purpose of getting a submission proposal in shape and I’m glad to say that with my coach’s help, I achieved that goal.

You know the memoir I’ve mentioned in several posts? Well, it has an official title and is now completed. At least completed to the point of submission. Those of you who have told me I needed to write about West End, West End Baptist, Brown High School, and growing up in the nineteen sixties and seventies, you got your wish. You may find yourself on the pages of People like us; A memoir in prose and poetry. It has been submitted. Not accepted, mind you, but at least officially submitted.

Submitting a book for publication with traditional publishers is a long, drawn-out process. It has been submitted to one university Press. You can only submit to one at a time (simultaneous submissions are frowned upon) and it can take months to get a response. We are still talking about months before I know anything definite about publication, so don’t get in too much of a hurry.

I’ve been asked by several people who would want to read this memoir. I know there are at least a few of you. But that’s not enough to sell a book. In the publishing journey when submitting a book to a traditional publisher there is a lengthy submission proposal. Among other things, they want to know who would read/buy your book. The answer can’t be just a handful of friends. And although I write mostly for myself, that can’t be the answer either. In the part of the submission form that asked this question here is what I put.

Who would like to read this book? People who . . .

like to read about common people who overcome entrenched emotional issues and numerous life challenges to lead productive and content lives.like to read about growing up in the Southern culture of the 1950s, 60s, and 70s.like to read about women overcoming personal trials to find their way to live at peace with themselves.who live with the challenges of chronic illness.who have experienced tragic losses of children, spouses, and stillborn babies.who face reconciling personal convictions with employment requirements.who see incongruency between their spiritual constructs and organized religion.

Why do I think these people would want to read this book? In this memoir I piece together my story in prose and poetry. It describes how early experiences and environment shape our beliefs of who we are and what we can become. Struggling to overcome feelings of inferiority imposed by being identified as “people like us,” I spent a lifetime seeking affirmation, battling defeat and disappointment at every turn. Family dynamics, growing social consciousness in an era of blatant racism, spiritual enlightenment, justifying reality with one’s convictions, career adjustments, chronic illness, and the tragic losses of a child, grandchildren, and spouse all affected my desires for recognition. After realizing it was not recognition from others I needed, but my own self-validation and realization of my worthiness in God’s eyes, I turned these setbacks into redirection. No longer feeling the need to continually seek the approval of others, I am secure knowing accomplishments in my life have made a difference for myself and others. I finally live at peace with myself. What better realization could there be?

If this first proposal is not accepted by the press, there are others I’m considering. How many? I’m not sure. I may eventually consider going with a hybrid publisher or self-publish again. Who knows?

In the meantime, I am enjoying some down-time before the holidays. The beach is lovely this time of year, but here on Florida’s East coast the king tides and offshore storms have taken a toll, though so far, it’s nothing like a hurricane, thank God. It is still awesome to witness the power of God’s creation. And, to top it off, GEORGIA TECH is having a great season!

I am curious. For those of you reading this who are not personally connected to West End, Brown High, or West End Baptist, what do you think of this proposal? Considering how I’ve framed the description does this memoir sound like something you would want to read? Why does anyone want to read about another person’s experiences? Are memoirs a valid genre of literature?

Please share your thoughts in a comment –

Whew! I think I have recovered from jet lag. Just a few days ago I returned from a fabulous trip to England, Wales, and Scotland. A big shout out to Jane Wall at dewtravel.netlify.app for planning and delivering an outstanding trip.

I had never visited any of these locations. My main purpose was to investigate two locations important to my genealogy research interests – the Howell family. We are related to the Howell family who were prominent in Atlanta Georgia from the late 1800s into the early 1900s. It is quite a convoluted connection so I won’t go into the details here. My mother’s grandmother’s maiden name was Howell. The photo below is my great grandmother Harriet Lucile Howell Smith with three of her oldest children, probably around 1890. She is one of the characters in my most recent book, The Letter Box.

The Howell name and descendants are thought to be derived from King Hywel the Good who ruled in Wales around 900 a.d. He was credited with uniting the many kingdoms into a cohesive country by establishing laws, culture, a monetary system, and political allies in England. The ruins of Dinefwr Castle from which he ruled still stand. I was determined to make it to the top of the big hill/small mountain on which it stands and was so glad I did! It was amazing to be in the midst of history.

The other location was Westbury Manor in the tiny village of Marsh Gibbon, outside of Bicester, England. Hundreds of years later, in 1536, William Howell acquired the property and established it as the home of his branch of the Howell family. Although not fully documented, from my research I believe my mother’s Howells were related to this family. The current owners of the manor welcomed us to their lovely home, which now features a section they operate as an AirB&B.

In the Southern USA we tend to think of buildings as old if they’ve lasted one or two hundred years. To actually stand in pre or circa medieval-aged buildings was humbling. And to think, on top of the age factor, that your very ancestors have lived in such buildings, was an astounding experience.

I know today’s generation may not be so fascinated with such ancient history. As a child I didn’t either. Maybe one day when my grandchildren are older they will find this genealogy as fascinating as I do. Hopefully such ancient sites will continue to be preserved.

The trip included many other locations. One of the most fun was a tour of locations where the Outlander television series was filmed. It was just like being in the presence of Jamie and Claire!

Some people claim researching genealogy is living in the past, which can be seen as a not-so-good pastime. Learning from the past, fondly remembering past people and events, and reflecting on the past to encourage personal growth can be valuable experiences. Any genealogist will tell you there are a wealth of satisfying explorations when tracing your ancestors. Not to mention the surprises you may find!

With the technology available today researching your ancestors is easier than ever. Have you discovered interesting family stories? Do you want the past to remain dead and buried or would you like to discover interesting stories about your own forebears?

Share your thoughts in a comment below.

July 2025

How did a lowly little girl from West End, Atlanta, become known as a bohemian Southern belle? As a little girl I always had fanciful ideas of becoming someone glamorous. An interior designer? An actress? A singer? A beauty queen? When I would express any of those desires to my mama of what I wanted to be when I grew up, she set me straight.

“People like us don’t get to be any of those. Maybe you can be a teacher or a nurse.”

At the time, that statement puzzled me. I didn’t know who ‘people like us’ were or what it meant. I didn’t fully understand until I was grown, but that’s another story. It’s the story I plan to tell in my memoir.

There were a few times I came close to living out those dreams. Around the age of five, I got to be a Rainbow Girls page and wore a long blue dress and a corsage. If I’d had my choice, everything in my closet would have had sparkles, ruffles, satin, and lace. When I was eight I got to wear a gorgeous yellow satin and chiffon dress as a junior bridesmaid in my sister’s wedding.

Then when I was about twelve I wore a long white gown as a GA Queen. Girls’ Auxiliary (GA’s) was a mission education program in Southern Baptist Churches in those days. Girls went through a series of steps from maiden to lady-in-waiting to princess to queen. I’m sure I wasn’t the only girl who stuck it out all those years and did all that work just so I could be a queen and wear a long white dress, even if the crown was only cardboard.

High school prom was the next time, although we never called it a prom in those days. It was the “Jr – Sr,” an abbreviation for the Junior-Senior formal dance. I do not have fond memories of that (I only went to one, my junior year), another long story. But I did have a mint green long dress that I loved.

As for the bohemian part, there were hints of that all along. I always wanted to flaunt tradition. Too young to be a real hippie in my teen years I was a wannabe. I have no doubt that if I had been older I would have been into that scene. I was ready to go to San Francisco and wear flowers in my hair.

The summer of sixty-eight, yes, sixty-eight NOT sixty-nine, I had a boyfriend who came close to fulfilling that dream. Not THE boyfriend, mind you, just a temporary while THE real one and I were on the outs. He was a wannabe hippie too, and I was very infatuated. Too young to have a driver’s license, he would sneak out his parents’ car about two o’clock in the morning and drive over to my house where I would sneak out too. We would meet up on my granny’s brick wall next door.

My Granny’s house with the brick wall. My house is next door.

We watched the moon trace across the sky, sang Sargent Pepper songs, and talk about becoming real hippies. That summer was magical, just a few innocent kisses that never went any further. Eventually, once school started back, I realized I wasn’t “over” the previous boyfriend and that was that. it was more than twenty years ago but enjoy Sargent Pepper anyway.

While engaged, my soon to be husband had two motorcycles. A big Triumph street bike that I never learned to manage, and a small Suzuki 90 trail bike I became adept at zooming over the powerline trails. That was pretty bohemian at the time – the early 1970s.

Soon would be my fairytale come true, and the ultimate fancy dress. I first saw my gown on the cover of Bride magazine. It was satin, simply adorned with pearls and a Juliet cap veil. I adored that gown.

If you were to look in my closet now you would see, lace, ruffles, beaded embellishments, and gauzy romantic hippie type clothes. I also have hats-wide-brimmed ones with flowers, fascinators, cowboy hats, cloches, and fedoras. It took a lifetime of having to be somewhat traditional – working in a doctor’s office, a church, and teaching public school, but now I can be my true self.

There is someone who often tells me I am too old to dress a certain way, have long wear, and wear hats. Honestly, I really don’t care. The older I get, the less I care what others think.

One of my idols is Iris Apfel, the iconic designer and fashionista who dared to wow the world with her flamboyant style right up until her death at age 102. She and these other ladies are amazingly beautiful women.

When I began writing books I was told I needed a persona. I loved the idea of the romantic hoop-skirted belles but not necessarily what they stood for socially and economically. That is when I determined to invent the Bohemian Southern Belle. There is a separate page here on my website describing Bohemian Southern Belles.

Can one be bohemian and a southern belle at the same time? Yes! She is a woman who maintains positive qualities of southern belle-dom such as manners, hospitality, grace, charm, and kindness. Yet she also portrays unconventional traits for a southern belle. She is bold but minds her manners. She is outspoken where justice is at stake, but remains kind.

She is charming, but not insipidly stupid. She is intelligent, but not just in book learning. She is wise in ways that cannot be learned from books. She has emotional and relational skills that could parry with the highest diplomat. She does not connive to belittle other women or reign over them. She does defend, encourage, and come to their aid if needed.

The bohemian southern belle can be devastatingly lethal if the situation calls for it. Just try harming someone she loves and you will find out just how quickly you can be put in your place. She will not be the one blessing your heart to your face then gossiping about you behind your back. She will be the one telling you straight up where you went wrong. She will teach you a lesson you will never, ever, forget, and she will do so publicly and in no uncertain terms.

And she will be applauded for doing so, because others respect her conviction and passion for honesty and doing the right thing. That trait has influenced my life many times as you will read about in the forthcoming memoir. It is not always easy to align your convictions within traditional organizations that expect you to bend to their own persuasions.

Thus was born the Bohemian Southern Belle. Let us be the best of all that is southern, while removing from our lives hateful stereotypes of simpering, racist, vindictive bitches. Let us be strong, wise, and kind.

Do you know a bohemian southern belle?

Maybe you are one?

Tell us about it in a comment below.

July 2025

Sorry about missing a May post. It was a busy month with a visit to Atlanta, family events, appointments, business, and company here in Flagler Beach. Now summer is nearly upon us and 2025 is half gone.

Connecting with local publisher Terri Burger of Sunsational Publishing helped me accomplish a major goal I had for 2025. The Letter Box came out the beginning of May and sales have been brisk. Remember, if you have read it, PLEASE leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, and social media outlets. Authors thrive on reviews and reader reviews really do influence buyers.

Purchase the book on Amazon or have your local bookstore order! (ISBN-10: ‎ 1953416314 or ISBN-13: ‎978-1953416315)

Now I’m concentrating on another goal dear to my heart. Those of you who follow me know that from time to time I’ve mentioned working on a memoir. Some bits and pieces of it have been sitting in the back rooms of my mind for years and now I am bringing them out to the front room.

A memoir is not simply a retelling of one’s life events. A good memoir has a message. Why would I want to tell anyone my innermost thoughts and why would anyone want to read them? Family and friends are usually a given, but what about drawing in other readers? Any book worth writing needs something more than words on a page.

A book is written for an audience, even if that audience is only one’s self. But if an author expects to sell books, obviously there must be larger appeal. Writing coach Amy Goldmacher is helping me formulate the core message I want this memoir to convey. Have you ever felt defeated? Like nothing you do is turning out like you expected? Have you wanted to simply give up because all you seem to do is fail? Does a little voice in the back of your head whisper that you’re not good enough so why bother? I’ve felt these ways and I’m sure most of you have too.

Some people sink to the depths of depression or become mired in a “dark night of the soul” under such circumstances. I have done so myself at times. My memoir’s message will be for those who have experienced this and want to move beyond these self-destructive feelings.

Memoirs are not fictional yet may not be factual either. A memoir is based on memory, and our memories are our own perceptions. We each have our own self-construct. What I remember about a certain event can be totally different from how someone else remembers it. It doesn’t necessarily mean one of us is right and one of us is wrong. Truth and reality only exist in the moment.

The memoir, as yet untitled, will NOT be a chronological recounting of my life. It will be what is referred to in literary circles as “an experimental memoir.” The AI Overview generated on Google for experimental memoir definition reads, “An experimental memoir defies traditional memoir formats and structures, pushing the boundaries of personal narrative by incorporating unusual techniques, forms, or styles to convey a specific experience or emotion. It’s a non-fiction work that intentionally breaks from conventional storytelling conventions, exploring new ways to represent personal stories.”

Some of you were right there beside me during some of the entries. I doubt our memories will be the same. I can look back and realize sometimes it was not at all what I thought it was at the time. Oh, the fickleness of our minds!

Funny, but that is exactly part of the solution. How can we get through hard times? By knowing they are temporary. By knowing change is certain but defeat and failure are optional. They are often the steps we need for redirection.

There is a saying that God does not close one door without opening another. Although not a direct scripture it can be extrapolated from Revelation 3:8.

I know thy works: behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it . . .

Have you experienced feelings of not being good enough? Have you struggled with depression? Have you experienced a dark night of the soul? How did you manage? Would you read a book about how someone else has done this? Share your thoughts in a comment below.

April has been beautiful in so many ways. Not many showers here on the gorgeous northeast Florida coast, and the flowers don’t wait until May to appear. The construction is finished along my beachfront, and it is so magnificent to sit and watch God’s majestic handiwork.  Easter has come and gone. I’ve passed the third anniversary of my husband’s death. Life goes on, and with it comes both highs and lows. But in this post, I’m sharing a very high high!

It ‘s done! It’s ready! It’s available! It’s out there!

My sixth book is published!

What’s it about? Like my other books, The Letter Box is based on real people and true events. Some events have been fictionalized. Yes, I’m writing about my ancestors again. But this time they are on my mother’s side. This blurb from the back cover gives you a little preview of what to expect.

A daughter uncovers a legacy of abandonment in her maternal ancestors through letters she discovers in an old box. Unknowingly, this has influenced her, for good or bad, throughout her life. Although she has no daughters of her own, she is determined to break the cycle for her granddaughters, encouraging and giving them words of wisdom to live fulfilling lives. Brutally honest, the author lays bare the intricacies of mother- daughter relationships and how they affected the lives of these extraordinary women.

Now you get a head start – I’m going to share with you the introduction page.

Introduction

I am no one’s daughter. At least I haven’t felt like anyone’s daughter for many years. My parents passed decades ago. Technically I suppose I am still their daughter, just not in an alive sense. I wish I had known my mother and the grandmothers who came before her. I mean, really known them, as women. All of them, unlike myself, became mothers to daughters. Adeline, Harriet, Tommie Belle, and finally Mary, who was mother to me. The mother to daughter progression ended there, as I had no daughters.

Who were these women? What were their thoughts, dreams, desires, and burdens? I knew they had lived through wars, pestilence, stillbirths, deaths of children, deaths of husbands, back-breaking farm or factory labor, and poverty, all while enduring the civil and societal restraints levied upon women during each of their lives. Still, I did not truly know them.

Until I found the letter box. A faded floral-print box hidden away in some of my mother’s old belongings. Inside were packets of letters bound in time-paled ribbons. As I began to unfold and read the brittle pages it became clear there was a specific order to these epistles from the past. The first was a letter from my great great grandmother Adeline Park Howell to her daughter, Harriet Howell Smith. The letters in the box would reveal the lives of the women I so longed to know. And, no matter how many years had passed, we were inextricably connected.

Harriet Howell Smith, the child on the right, with her grandparents Hampton Wade and Cynthia Knox Howell.

I hope this introduction intrigues you enough to persuade you to read the book. It is a small book, only 144 pages. It’s a beautiful book, visually. Lavender was my own mother’s favorite color. This little book, packed with mother/daughter sentiments, would make the perfect Mother’s Day gift.

Purchase the book on Amazon at https://tinyurl.com/yk68kzbs

OR ask your local bookseller to order for you:

·       ISBN-10: ‎ 1953416314

·       ISBN-13: ‎ 978-1953416315

Coming soon on Kindle too!

Do you have special thoughts you’d like to share about mothers? Maybe you’re a not a daughter, but a son. Mother/son relationships are special too. I should know- I raised three sons and zero daughters. Please share your thoughts in a comment below.

March Madness

No, not the orange round ball kind that dominated my household for many years with a husband and three boys in residence. Another kind entirely, but madness all the same. Madness as in crazy, manic, insane, hyperactive. When there’s too much going on. Too many different tasks. Too many things to take care of. Too many irons in the fire. Too much on your plate. Up to your ears in it. Too many balls in the air. Have you ever felt that way?

Let’s see, what all did I have going on at one time? Planning for not one but two trips out of the country.  Planning for three granddaughter birthdays including a trip to Atlanta. Getting one book and all its accouterments off to the publisher. Getting another book in shape enough to work with a writing coach on a weakling writing retreat. Income tax preparation and payment to the tune of almost $8000! Ouch! Working around the painting schedule at my condo. Eye appointment, dentist appointment, radiology appointment, financial manager appointment, writing group meetings, planning for family to visit, meeting for an organization I am excited about  joining: Seeking Insights for Solutions. and a million other little bits and pieces. Going mad, indeed.

I’m supposed to be retired.

I’m not used to all this madness. I need a vacation!

Yes, much of this stuff is good, fun, and of my own making. But there is a caveat. When you live with chronic illness it’s important not to overdo. Sometimes it just can’t be helped.  A day of being constantly on the go from early morning to evening can land you on the couch recovering for three days. I usually manage fairly well in pacing myself but sometimes it’s a trial. If you’re not familiar with the spoon theory go here and read about it. It will help you understand.

In reality I am blessed. Blessed to have the means for all of this- even paying taxes.  I am blessed that I can decide, “Ok, enough is enough. So what if there are clothes in the wash, dishes in the sink, e-mails to answer, an unmade bed, and an unbathed dog? Right outside my door there is a beach, an ocean, sunshine, and a warm temperature. After all, why did I move to Florida?”

Life is short. Go to the beach. Stop and smell the roses. Carpe diem. Live for today.

Be still and know that I am God.

Please share your thoughts in a comment below.

February 2025

***There is news about one of my works in progress! Visit the Books page to read about my next book!***

February – the traditional month of love! I’ve written about love many times before, usually each February but on other occasions as well. If you’d like read more, just type LOVE into the search

At times we throw around the word “LOVE” as casually as if we were tossing garbage into a trash can. On rare occasions we use it as the treasure it is, a solemn vow spoken in reverence. Most of the time, our use of the word is somewhere in between.

It’s commonplace to say I love my family, or I love my dog, or I love pizza. Some other ordinary uses for me might be I love living at the beach, I love sleeping in, I love reading, or I love getting together with friends.

As I thought about what I love, several ideas came to mind that are not so ordinary. Maybe some of these sound strange to you. Maybe some are loves you share. I thought of these in categories of the senses when I wrote them several years ago as a poem.

As visions, I love to see . . .A baby’s face crinkling into a smile. Dappled sun on the forest floor. The first spring leaves upon the trees. Bare branches’ intricate lacework in winter. Glisten on the sand after waves’ retreat. Speckled leaves, red, orange, yellow, purple, brown. Red dirt roads with clay ruts and eroded or banks. Kudzu monsters. Ladies in ball gowns. Fantasy animals in cloud puffs.  Mimosa pink powder puff blooms Cool dew-jeweled violets in spring shade. Puzzle patterns in bark Stone striae in black, gray, white.

In sounds, I love to hear . . .Wistful wind. Rushing water. Baby giggles. Crunching leaves. Far off beach music. Wind chimes. Rain on a tin roof. Train whistles at night. Monastery chant. Little children singing Jesus Loves Me. Summer pool sounds muffled by your ear against the towel. A beloved dog’s contented sigh. Newborn baby’s cry

In scents, I love to smell . . .

Dry dust when first spattered by rain. Vanilla flavoring. Autumn leaf fire. Dark, moist, rich forest floor after rain. Baking – cookies, bread, cakes, pies. Peppers and onions sizzling in butter. Splashed hot pavement around the summer pool. A new box of crayons. Sun dried cloth diapers. Coffee. Leather. New car. Puppy breath.

I love the touch of . . .

Velvet, chenille, satin, suede. Cool polish of a river pebble. Bare feet on moss. Lucky rubbed chestnut. Sand grains sifting through toes and fingers. Mist of the sea. Cool hands on hot foreheads. Deliciously cold air conditioning on your sweaty neck. Your own bed after a long day. Just enough sun’s warmth. Baby oil on skin. Silken dog ears. Pony tail swish on your bare back.

I love to taste . . .

The first home-grown tomato of summer: plus the mayo, salt, and pepper. Mama’s dressing with giblet gravy – smothered in memory. Creamy New York cheesecake – sliding, smoothing. Hot fudge. On ice cream. With nuts. And whipped cream. A grill-seared steak – juicy and fat. Ice cold watermelon. Spit the seeds. Rich’s coconut cake. Tropical delight. Bacon. Bacon. Bacon. Hot from the oven cornbread. With butter. The perfect French fry. Nearly unobtainable.

If you go to the About Georgia Janet page of this website you’ll find a few more things I love. They reveal even more about who I am and what I care about.

What about you? I challenge you to not throw around the word “love” like garbage. Think about what you love most deeply and what you love casually. I would be interested to know what you love in the passing of a moment as I have.

Scroll down to share your thoughts in a comment.

January 2025

As this New Year began our country was mourning the loss of former President Jimmy Carter. There were so many references to his legacy – not just as a president but as a man. A caring humanitarian, a loving husband and father, a witness-bearing Christian were just a few of the terms applied to his legacy.

A new year often causes us to reflect and project and I thought about this in terms of legacy. As I watched his funeral service and saw all four surviving former presidents the totality of their legacies was impressive. There will always be those who see the negatives, but each, like President Carter, had their positives too.

What is a legacy?

One of the most comprehensive descriptions I found of legacy was at Legacy Law PLLC. Their overall statement was a legacy is something that is passed on. They went to elaborate.

A Legacy may be of one’s faith, ethics and core values. A Legacy may be monetary or your assets. A Legacy may come from one’s character, reputation and the life you lead – setting an example for others and to guide their futures. Legacies often tremendously impact, encourage and leave pathways for future generations. Legacies provide guidance and inspiration for family members and those impacted by you to live lives that impact their faith, homes, community and businesses.

I was interested in what people think their legacy will be. This is part of a post I put on Facebook:

“I am working on my next blog post and would like to enlist your help. The topic will be Legacy. I’m not talking financial here, I’m interested to know what you would want your own legacy to be. Leaving a legacy is more than what we leave behind—it’s about the impact we have on the lives of others and the world around us, a reflection of how we’ve lived, the values we’ve upheld, and the difference we’ve made. If you are not comfortable sharing publicly, please PM me. Thanks in advance for your input!”

I must say I was disappointed to receive only three responses. Thank you so much to these three- you know who you are. Here is what each said. Identifying information has been removed.

“Not sure if this is appropriate for a legacy but my charity work is what I want my legacy to be. The fact that I work hard for the causes that interest me. Tom and I both instilled doing charity work in our daughter.  I continue to do it and she has become one of the most charitable people I know.”“I just quickly wanted to tell you that I want my legacy to be love. My Mom and Dad had a little sign on their front door that said “In this house, you are loved” I have it beside my bed and I hope and pray that it’s been carried forward by me. We are able to love because God first loved us and I want that to shine bright all the days of my life.”“I want my legacy to be: I help. I love sharing my knowledge about different subjects to help solve problems. I want to be remembered as a person who wanted all children to know the love of Jesus. Also, I wanted the elderly to maintain their dignity their entire life. I will be remembered as a person with a loud voice and somewhat of a know-it-all. And, unfortunately I will be remembered as a mom who had a son who had an addiction issue and who lost him.”

Each of these are admirable legacies. And because I know these people, I can testify that each is true.

What about me?

As for myself, I believe my greatest legacy will be my family. My sons, daughter-in-loves, and grandchildren. I also hope to be remembered as . . .

A caring, loving mother, grandmother, wife, family member, and friend.

A faithful Christian

An advocate of justice

An accomplished writer

An effective, professional, and diplomatic educational leader

I don’t make resolutions but in the new year I want to work to make these hoped-for legacies lifetime realities. If you want to have legacies when you die, you must live them now.

We all leave a legacy whether intended or not. It might be by default and it might not be overwhelmingly positive, but it will happen. Perhaps as we begin a new year and a new era in our country it would be good to reflect on what your legacy will be. Have you ever thought about it? What do you hope to leave as your legacy? The Bible offers some guidance you may want to consider.

I hope and pray these words have inspired you to think about your legacy. Have you been inspired by the legacies of others? What do you hope to leave as a legacy?

Perhaps if the words here haven’t been enough of an inspiration listen to this. It‘s worth three minutes of your time.

Share your thoughts in a comment below.