What do I write about?

I’ve just recently published my second book in less than a year.  Books I’m proud of.

A few days ago, someone asked me what the books were about.  I had to think awhile, because they are both different in many respects.  After a few minutes of reflection I realized the answer.

I write about people.  Not just any people, but often forgotten people.  People who had a story to tell, but no one to tell their story and sometimes, no one to listen.

I write about Steve – the wounded Vietnam Vet who, everyday, wheels his wheelchair to the end of his driveway parks it under the American flag and watches the world go by.

Or Larry, another Vietnam Vet, whose memories of that time remain etched in his mind.  The horrors brought back every time he hears the band march by.

Or the German woman who walks everyday by my house, always with a dog. And, not  always  the same dog.  She uses the dog to start up conversations and perhaps ease her loneliness

I write about the lounge performer who travels from town to town, looking for a place to land, not just another one-night stand.

I write about the neighbor kids who I watched peddle their Big Wheels up and down the road.  Replace it with bicycles and now roar up and down the street their own car.

The blond-haired couple with their blond-hair kids, who left to newer pastures in modern cul-de-sacs with cement light posts.

I write about Ann, who labored in obscurity behind her well-known husband, and never got the recognition she deserved because of the blindness of people.

I write about Margie, the waitress, the breakfast wife, who serves the lonely men who come into her cafe with coffee, a smile and a listening ear.

I write about the bully who made certain everyday, that I couldn’t walk by his house without recognizing the fact that he was there.  A lonely boy who expressed his loneliness with anger.

I write about people.