Words By Whittall

“What was the last word I chose?” Fred asked, having determined it was his turn to pick a random word to blog about. “Butter,” answered John.  There was a murmur among the group. “I don’t think I wrote butter.” “I don’t remember, butter.” “Did I do butter?” I hadn’t been part of the group the last time Fred chose a word, but all this butter uttering brought a different image to mind.  Not the dairy product, but a movie I’d seen years ago.  What was it called?  Brando and some young French actress.  Had I seen her in anything else? No. I wouldn’t have seen her in anything else.  The movie had ruined her. I didn’t like the movie. Didn’t get it. That scene, particularly, made me feel uncomfortable.  Sick. I read later that Brando and the director, oh what was his name, dreamed up the scene over breakfast when a waiter brought butter and a baguette to their table. Apparently, they just looked at each other, and the butter and the baguett...

“Have I made a difference in this world?”   My friend’s question rolled around my head as I walked along Risser’s Beach, turning backward, to see my footsteps in the sand. “Of course!” I’d told him. “You cheered me up many a time.” He wasn’t convinced.   “You never know how you impact other people” I’d said. “A smile, holding the door open – it all makes a difference.”     I thought about the time an actor with a recurring role on The X-files passed me in the hallway and smiled. It was a brilliant, wide smile, possibly because my white ensemble, like my left cheek, was covered in bicycle grease. I was having the most horrible day, the bike chain incident being the latest in a series of unpleasant events.   That stranger turned everything around. It wasn’t because he was an actor on my favourite show; It was because he smiled. A connection was made; Darkness became light. He’ll never know what a difference he made, but to me it was huge. Thought...