Aunt Amy would be 121 years old on February 12. When I left home, aged 16, she took me aside and whispered to me that wherever I went, I should always remember who I am. This is Amy as a youngish woman. Maybe 1930. She is with my mother on the right and my Aunt Eleanor on the left.

So what does this have to do with introducing myself on Steemit?

Everything.

The year she gave me her advice, Amy would have been 67. I was 16. She was so old, what on earth could she know about life? Yet, her face and serious eyes as she handed me this advice lingers. What did it mean, I wondered?

Now that I am older than she was then, I wonder if she saw how badly I needed that advice. I’ve never known who I was.

Who Am I?

That is my question and that is why I am here. I am on Steemit to finally figure this out. I heard about Steemit through @katebenzin. Then I discovered @hopehuggs and found @jerrybanfield, whom I already knew from Udemy where I am a student in half a dozen of his courses. I see my pals @peggyhazelwood and @garyharvey here.

This looks like a community of people where I can be me. If only I knew who that is. When I went to sign up for the attendant sites that I need to have in place for the technical aspects of Steemit – crypto exchanges and places like that – it really got confusing.

I’m Joanne Reid, living in Arizona. When I went verify my identity, poof, my name was changed to Joanne McNeill and my country changed to Canada.

Well, yes, I know that. But I drifted between the two countries, being a snowbird, and between the two names. Joanne Reid has written online for a long time. I got married 5 years ago and changed my legal name. Or changed my name legally, whichever. That's the wedding photo above. I'm second from the right. My baby sister is on the far left and her partner Jim. That's my beloved husband on the right.

I was a ghostwriter for 25 years, so my real name did not matter.

Sliced Too Thin

In 1974, I worked at CBC Radio and the station manager, Ray DeBoer once said to me that the big problem with me was my lack of focus. I thought he just didn’t know me. I had lots of focus. I just didn’t have a place to aim it yet.

I thought I could do it all. Once I applied for a PhD program and law school at the same time and was trying to figure out if I could do both at the same time.

Yeah, yeah. I know. Such disrespect for both programs. And I didn’t want to do either, truth be told. All I wanted to do was write stories. All I want to do now is write stories.

When I did write 3 novels and put them up on Kindle, I used a pseudonym. I got carried away with technology and was proud of my ability to figure out things computerish and also write fiction. I finally figure out, as I breath down on my 70th birthday, that Ray had me nailed.

Pick one, Joanne, pick one!

Where it Started

My brother’s birthday is also February 12. When I was a kid in the country, there were not many children in the vicinity. There was me. And Alva across the road. And my brother. Alva is the one on the left. I'm in the middle. Cousin Sandra is on the right. It is the summer of 1951.

Alva drowned when I was 14. I kept thinking that I had to live for Alva, do double time with my life. A few years later, my brother was in an accident that left him with a head injury. It was overwhelming. Now I had to live for him too.

Turns out he could live for himself. Here he is, helping Mom celebrate her 96th birthday a couple of weeks ago. With his Tim Hortons coffee, black dark roast. Yep, that's the way to drink coffee.

You know how it is. Life happens while you’re making plans. I stumbled along, living a scattered life inside my head and dressing the externals as if I knew what I was doing.

Habits develop. Opportunities are missed. Mistakes are made. And you’re too busy to figure out what you want, who you are, and where you want to be.

I’m here to dig into those dark crevices of memory to sort it out and write stories.

The angels know I have a lot of them.