Miasma Episode I

NOTE: This is a creative writing piece and could be one of a series that creates a fantasy character to allow for observational prose...

My name is Miasma. Actually, Miasma isn't my real name and if I tried to tell you my real name your ears would not hear it nor would your mind grasp it, so for you and the world you see, I am Miasma.

I am a watcher of people and their things for in my watching I find some degree of comfort, some measure of essence that I would otherwise lose and soon I might fade beyond the reach of this world. I cannot touch it or you anymore, so I watch. My presence is veiled to you, no more than the wisp of a cloud or the last mist of a spring morning. I can only watch. I watch the beauty and the ugliness.

Today I watch her, this child with brilliant blue eyes, dancing with light. If you would see her you would most likely be so struck by the particular shade of azure blue brimming from her eyes that you might miss the truly brilliant light that is her eagerness of being as it radiates into the world around her. Yes, I see this radiance. Some might discount her shine as youthful and untainted enthusiasm, but I know better. I have seen this before and today as I watch her trace her fingers along the cracked mortar between the smooth wall stones, I know that this youngling is a rare and delicate version among your kind. She hums a simple tune, one that rises from her inner being and as her wordless song touches the air and all around her I feel the urge to bow, I and every form of life around her would sway upon her song if she only wished it so. She doesn't, for she doesn't know how, yet...

What's Your Epitaph?

And the end of the fight is a tomb stone white with the name of the late deceased
And an epitaph drear “A fool lies here who tried to hustle the east.”

-Rudyard Kipling

Do you ever give thought to the epitaph you want on your tomb stone? Or, do you ever wonder what your surviving relatives (always thought that was a strange connotation. Like they survived your dying?)?

Apparently the possibilities are wide open.

Here lies the body
of Jonathan Blake
Stepped on the gas
Instead of the brake.
Memory of an accident in a Uniontown, Pennsylvania cemetery

Here lays Butch,
We planted him raw.
He was quick on the trigger,
But slow on the draw.
In a Silver City, Nevada, cemetery

I was somebody.
Who, is no business
Of yours.
Someone determined to be anonymous in Stowe, Vermont

And my favorite,

"I told you I was sick!"
In a Georgia cemetery

On a more serious note, lately I think I know what mine may turn out to be, if I live that long. 

My wife and granddaughter (5 years old) talk about me a good bit. In a loving effort to help our granddaughter understand the people in her world, her grandmother will often explain other people’s behavior. I’m no exception. One evening, in anticipation of the coming morning – my granddaughter asked, “Will granddaddy Kim be here in the morning?” My wife explained, “No. He’ll leave early for work, before you are awake. He goes to work every day to make money so we can have food, a house and other nice things.” One morning early, I walked into the bedroom after my shower, to find them both snuggled into our bed. I dressed for work quietly, in the dark and heard them talking.

Granddaughter: There’s granddaddy Kim… in the dark.
Grandmother: Yes. He knew we would be resting and didn't want to bother us. He’s thoughtful like that. He’ll go down and feed the dogs and let them out, too. So they can run up and join us for a snuggle. Isn’t it nice of him to do that for us?

So, as I’m thinking about how my life is impacting others, I’m hearing my wife tell my grandchild that I am a thoughtful, considerate provider. I've worked hard to be a lot of things: an excellent salesperson, a reliable employee, successful in business, an able public speaker, etc. But here I am, looking from the point of view of my family and I find that I am seen in a different light.

Provider. Considerate. Thoughtful. 

Honestly, that is an epitaph, be it written on the stone above my grave or on the folds of the hearts of those who remember me, which I can live and die with.

Ghost Email

My sister died last May. Today, I got an email from her...well, from her account. Apparently some SPAM bot has taken control of her old email account and sent me a link to a 'work from home' business opportunity. As freaky as this was, I'll just add it to the list with Facebook reminding me of her birthday every year - her profile is still up.

Note to self: make sure family has all of my internet profiles, email accounts, and website log-ins and passwords so they can care for those, after I'm gone and are ready for the digital death!

Welcome to Myrtle Manor and My Family

I was born and grew up in Myrtle Beach, SC. It was a good life of intense summers and quiet off-season. Frankly, it was a bit of a wild, youthful life. People would come to Myrtle Beach for a 'blow it out' weekend or week of vacation and, as a resident motel hand and local beach bum, I was happy to help.

Fast forward to 2013 and although I no longer live at the sea side-side show, I have a double dozen and more of relatives still residing and carrying on down there. How fun is it to see some of them featured on TLCs upcoming show "Welcome to Myrtle Manor." Yes, I'm serious.

Tune in tonight at 10 pm EST for the premier.

Saturday Me

We were told to expect snow

Snow, again.

Greeted by crisp hope and freezing air

We waited…

Dogs sniffing the air and each other

Hawks sat and wrapped themselves in feather shawls

Discreet expectations

Anticipation of broken routines that might

Hold us captive to our homes

Caressed by comforting teas and cakes

It didn’t snow.

Still, we stayed home, held the dogs

Surrendering to self-imposed captivity

Saturday morning…me

-Kim E. Williams

Socially Rude and The New Family Christmas Photo

Over at Netchicks Marketing blog, the new standard in family Christmas photos has been revealed!

I laughed and then I had one of those "things that make you go HUM moments." The blog post asks if smart phones are making us socially dumb. Good question. As I read, I realized that for many of us the word 'social' is being dramatically realigned to refer to...well...the stuff we do with our heads down into our smart phones.

Then I had a few more thoughts.

The presence of mobile devices has changed the way we interact. Is it "bad" or making us dumb? I read an interesting book last year The Shallows, by Nicolas Carr that suggests the problem is larger than mobile devices and dangerously close to causing a rewiring of our brains. Carr is a bit over zealous in his claims, but it's a good read and contains some great research.

As a public speaker, I would contend that the speaking environment has been dramatically changed by mobile devices and Social Media. Speakers once depending on word, vocal inflection and gestures to all work together in a precisely developed symphony of presentation that required rapt attention of the audience. We can no longer be assured that people are, at any given moment actually listening or watching us. What to do? We can strive to embrace the change and adapt to it - there are some interesting possibilities available - 

1. using other's Social clout to market your ideas and brand by inviting people to interact via Social Media

2. adopting a social vernacular to engage users. "This is tweet worthy"

3. providing short (less than 140 characters) points and quotes

4. letting people know when you need them to stop, look and listen

5. keep Social handles and hash tags visible throughout the presentation

Like it or not, Social Media and mobile devices are a means of communicating information, and what is a good presentation if not information that is educational, motivational and fun to share?

All of that said, we do need to balance our use of these devices and media and have a low tolerance for what we experience as rude behavior in social situations.

What do you consider rude smart phone behavior?

Coffee Table Tales - Sharing Ourselves

There was a time when coffee tables held the central place in our living rooms. Upon them rested the symbols of our lives. Scattered in plain sight, the magazines, books, and nick knacks of our interest quietly broadcast the message of who we were. You could tell a lot about us by our coffee table tops.

My childhood coffee table was made of 1970’s metal tube legs and glass. The top was a framed glass panel, revealing what appeared to be a star-burst pattern of small, rectangular tiles. The ‘tiles’ were actually a plastic sheet, molded and dyed to the pattern. We kept National Geographic magazine’s 3 or 4 most recent issues fanned out on the table. A center piece of plastic fern in a gold wooden dish was always slightly askew from the bumps and table top activity of us kids. If no guests were around, you would have seen the current homework project tossed into the mix. It wasn't uncommon to find green toy soldiers tucked into the fern or climbing down the metal gold legs.  If company was expected, the soldiers and homework were always replaced by Better Homes and Gardens and a sculptured ceramic ash tray. Ours was a coffee table that told the story of a modest family, intrigued by learning and with aspirations of being normal. My grandmother’s coffee table wasn't the same.

My grandmother’s living room (and it was her living room, even though my grandfather was allowed in to sit in his chair and watch the nightly news) sported a large, round cypress coffee table. Always on the top of it was a bowl of artificial fruit and a combination ash tray-candy dish. The ash tray was never used and the candy was off limits except to guests. You were not allowed to lean on, write on, put anything on top of or run near the table. Once a year, at Christmas, the center piece was replaced by a bowl full of gold and white ornaments. The table told a story of constant order, measured hospitality and fragile balance.

From what I can remember, the coffee tables of old served as statements – sometimes intended, often unconscious – of who we were. I don’t see as many coffee tables in living rooms today and lately have wondered if we might have found something else to take their place. When I look around I see a number of coffee table tops: Facebook, Pinterest, blogs, websites…. On these spaces we can broadcast much easier our likes, wants, feelings and interests. Posting a photo on Facebook, an emotive 140 characters on Twitter or a personal story on a blog all give us a means to set the table for others to see. So, today I’m wondering – what do my digital coffee tables tell about me? What do you see in the things spread before you on your friends and families spaces? How do you present yourself when you know friends are coming by your digital place?

Random thought: Is there a coffee table app? A virtual table with digital objects we could display to tell our momentary mood or story? Should there be?

College Football Game Day

Headed to NC State today...

to the FSU and NC State game.

We are a house divided. My wife graduated from Florida State and her olderst daughter went to NC State.

I think I'll just root for my alma mater, Wofford!

Go Terriers! 

Garden City Surf Shop - An Icon

Garden City Surf Shop

Garden City Surf Shop Entrance

This place has been there as long as I can remember...and that makes it OLD! I uploaded the photos in full resolution, so click on them and enjoy the details of the paintings!

Kim E Williams 1.0

Kim 1.0