The Last of the Three

Call me the holdout....or maybe the procrastinator.

In my family the ability to tell a story, fact or fiction, is legend (ok maybe only to our family). I can remember from my earliest days listening to my Grandpa spin tales of life in the hardest of times. Family gatherings at holidays turned out to be a time where, while pretending to be concentrating on something else, I would listen attentively to the Kilgore men (my Father, his 2 older brothers, and my grandfather)who played cards and told tales of work and life in general.

I cannot speak for my brothers, but for me that is where my love of the spoken and written word began. And growing up in a small town where there wasn't much to do except ride bicycles, play sandlot baseball, and think of ways to get in trouble, a rainy afternoon curled up in my room with a book was a welcome retreat.

My brothers and I, like the rest of our friends in the small town of Mosby, went to a small 4 room rock school from 1st to 8th Grade. We were encouraged during those years to read and expand our minds by our teachers. They challenged us with summer contests to see how many books we could read and many of us dove in with vigor. Spelling Bees were often highly contested between my older brother and I, so much so that we often wouldn't speak for the rest of the day.

I've never lost that love of reading and managed to inherit my Father's ability to spin a verbal yarn. But writing has always been the domain of my older and younger brothers. My older brother, even at an early age, wrote poetry and short stories that were published locally or state-wide. He now is a published author/speaker and with his wife runs a business that specializes in how to teach others to practice Christian principles/values in the workplace. My younger brother has his own blog that is not only read here but in other countries as well.

So, it is with much trepidation that I start this venture into the written word. My skillset has always been the spoken word. (Many of my friends swear I could filibuster with the best) Words or stories come easy to me when I am not having to take the time to write them. But in the spirit of competition that is buried into the DNA of my family, I am trying my hand at writing.

Most of what I will write about is more reflection than information. I have been lucky enough to experience life lessons some have not had to, but I would not be the person I am without these experiences.

And maybe, just maybe, I can be as good a writer as my siblings.

Mark