I started blogging a few years ago, after encountering a book that grew out of a blog. We were on vacation at the beach, and my brother’s stack of authors included Gordon Atkinson. (That’s what we do at the beach – we are a reading family. We bring piles of books and loads of music. We swap stories and songs, and then we stay up late and sing every song we can think of.)
Anyway, I read the book that week, and I cried, holding such grace in my hands. It was a turning point for me in various ways, but the biggest impact was my entry into the depths of internet connectivity. I started reading online, and one of my first excursions was to don’t eat alone. Milton was linked to Gordon’s blog, and I realized that a real life connection of sorts preceded my blog discovery; in a partnership with Billy Crockett years ago, Milton had helped to write some beautiful and meaningful songs that helped form the soundtrack of my early years as a mother and a young believer.
At that point, Milton was living in New England, writing, cooking and loving his wife. His writing never ceases to move and instruct and challenge me. He has recently relocated to North Carolina, but thankfully, his blog has stayed put, and his creative output continues to influence my life.
And now he’s published, with a collection of poems and recipes in a book called ‘Seven Summers At the Beach’. You see the picture there above; the book rests auspiciously in front of the english muffins and the bagels, in a tribute of sorts. To what, I don’t know; I asked my photographer daughter to get a shot of the spine of the book for me. That’s where she put it.
Anyway, the book is good and meaningful, particuarly because it grew out of the blog. Sort of like seeing one of the neighbor kids grow up and become valedictorian. Or maybe salutatorian at this point, since we’re talking about an unassuming sort of soft cover edition. Regardless of the analogy, I love what I’m reading, and the affection is mixed in with a unique sort of pride.
Community springs forth in the oddest of ways sometimes. Communication connects us, in whatever form it takes.
I’m really proud of Milton, and I’m quite fond of his book. You should buy it, too; you can do so here.