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| . FINDING AN OUTLET by John Crusey Almost six years ago I ran a newspaper ad disposing of my woodworking equipment, a collection of beautiful tools and gadgets brought together in my shop over more than 40 years. It hurt like the death of a close friend. There were still things I wanted to build, wood to be shaped, sanded and finished. I loved it so; the wood's grain, the smells, the feel, the whole creative process and now I couldn't do it anymore. My hands wouldn't listen, and it wasn't safe. Parkinson's Disease had taken it from me. Then, it popped into my brain damaged head that I could spend the rest of my life brooding over what I couldn't do anymore, and in the end, I still couldnąt do it. Or, I could stop wasting my time in this blind alley and find something I could do. Creativity comes in many forms. My dad worked for more than 30 years as the sports editor of a small, daily newspaper and some genetic material must have been passed along, because I've always enjoyed writing. I found a writer's club at the local community college, and it didn't take long for these people to show me how much I have to learn about the art. When I closed my woodworking shop after 40-plus years, I was still a student, competent but still learning. Given enough time, I hope the same will be true with my writing. I'm working at it, selecting, sanding and polishing each word, doing the best I can. How it stands up next to what others are doing doesn't matter; my creative drive is being satisfied.
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