RamblesCC Chapman

Missing My Sunday Globe

RamblesCC Chapman

A typical Sunday morning for me involves getting up early, feeding Roxie, letting her out, grabbing the paper out of my driveway and then sitting down with a cup of coffee and the Sunday Boston Globe. It has been that way for as long as I can remember. But, every so often a morning comes along when the paper isn't here yet. That means I've got the coffee and I'm vertical at an early hour so my mind wanders and cracks and ponders all sorts of things. Today is certainly one of those days. Clinton LibraryI went to Little Rock this week to speak at the PRSA 2008 Southwest District Conference. A whole new wave of people, new faces and new thoughts. A small group of people looking to figure out what is going on in the space. A sort of southern charm that made me instantly feel welcome. Plus, I learned about SharingHope.TV which simply amazed me. Although, I am still confused how I had such a good seafood meal in the middle of Arkansas. *grin*

I've been thinking a lot about this playground we are on. I looked back, but that only took a couple of minutes since it is the boring direction. I then looked forward. Thought about where I want to go and what I want to do. How the community around me is shape shifting and splitting as it needs to. Terms, definitions and expectations are all on a bit of a roller coaster ride and I'm ok with that because evolution is not a pretty or easy thing.

The picture here is from the Clinton Library. Chris Brogan and I had a nice long stroll throughout it sharing our thoughts and memories. They big time line was amazing to look back and realize what happened while he was in office. One thing that I always love looking at is letters and there were some amazing ones there. The art of writing a letter is something that is dying away and not enough people do. Chris and I both said that it was something we were going to do some of in the future. I hope we do. I hope others do. I sort of miss it.

Ink, paper, digital bits, beeps and bops. All of them fit together in this weird strange puzzle called life. We can't forget the old but we have to move past it sometimes to move forward? Or do we? Hmm..