SOME OF US ARE GHOSTS
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One October night Sandra Russell was driving on a country road, headed for town to meet a friend who was performing at a local nightclub. There was a breeze blowing the treetops and strands of shifting fog low to the ground. Just as she crested a big hill, she saw below what looked like a specter, someone in white. Maybe someone dancing? As the car slowed, she realized it was just a neighbor in a long nightgown, picking up her mail from across the road. When she arrived at the nightclub, she sat at a table near the stage. The energy of the crowd reminded her of how some people seemed so full o...
One October night Sandra Russell was driving on a country road, headed for town to meet a friend who was performing at a local nightclub. There was a breeze blowing the treetops and strands of shifting fog low to the ground. Just as she crested a big hill, she saw below what looked like a specter, someone in white. Maybe someone dancing? As the car slowed, she realized it was just a neighbor in a long nightgown, picking up her mail from across the road. When she arrived at the nightclub, she sat at a table near the stage. The energy of the crowd reminded her of how some people seemed so full of life while others were just blanks, like empty jars on a shelf. Suddenly the poem came to her. Sandra asked the waitress for something to write with. With the help of a blue crayon and paper napkins, Sandra wrote Some of us are Ghosts. The author entertains the reader through ethereal illustrations, painted less with a brush and more with a divining rod that opens the mystic well of imagination.
