Here Goes Nothing...

Background info... 

I've always been a bit of a writer. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my basement, there is a folder with all my favorite papers from high school. I've put short essays on Facebook a few times, and received some positive feedback for those posts. I seem to be the de facto editor for my children, my wife, and others who want to tell a story or be persuasive in their written communication.

When I was younger, I fancied myself a future author. I started my great short story a million times over, read creative writing magazines, and envisioned being the next Ellery Queen. At some point, I realized that I didn't have the patience or drive to sustain a project of that size, and I turned to journalism. Junior year English had launched the "in-class essay," and I was fond of the ability to get in, make a few points and/or zingers, and get back out. A year later brought Journalism class and the school newspaper, and it was cemented. I had no desire to cover clubs, sports or news of the day; I longed for the editorial page. Take a topic, take a position (whether one I agreed with or not), and go to town for 3-5 paragraphs.

Heaven.

I went off to Ohio University ready to make my mark. A Journalism major, I was ready to take the writing community by storm, travel to strange and wonderful places, and never look back as I lived off of my scathing commentary of the world and it's injustices, wherever they may be. Somehow, I neglected to account for the need for ongoing financial aid, a support system that kept me motivated to go to class, and the possibility that a seventeen year old boy would become homesick.

Back to Earth, Dahncke. Life takes over. (A wonderful life, mind you.)

Fast forward/switch topic:

My father passed away at the age of 44...during my senior year of high school. I had only seen him a couple of times since my parents split ten years before, and letters and phone calls were sporadic at best. The last year of his life, he wrote me a number of times. He had cancer; and it had progressed to the point that he wasn't going to come back from it, checking into a research hospital so that they may be able to help someone else by studying his terminal condition. He was happy that he was able to see his daughter Ashley at birth, and he was talking to me about writing a book, "Take Twenty and Dream."

Earlier this year, I posted on Facebook about my dad. In that post, I said:

 " I am now older than he ever was; I can't wonder any more about why he did or didn't do things as a father. I can only be thankful for the good memories; I can only appreciate w

hat I've had to learn from scratch as being an opportunity to create a new legacy for my boys."

Since that time, I've thought more and more about putting my thoughts down on a regular basis, and sharing them with anyone interested. Blogging seemed like a logical output; I would have a sense of accountability to maintain the account, and I could dump some of this crap swimming around in my head every day.

So...here we are. My commitment is to write for twenty minutes, once a week. My topics may vary, but you can bet they will include stories about my family(past and present), concerns about parenthood and partnership while my children are growing up and moving on, and reflection on those things that make me happiest.

I'm glad you are here. I hope you'll come back and check in from time to time. :)