This blog, in a word, is me. It is the tireless search for the right word, the word pregnant with meaning and evocative of thought and action. What would we be without the ability to communicate. And where would we be without the ability to communicate well. That’s where I come in. My name is Mark Anthony Turner. I’m a journalist by education and training and a wordsmith by curiosity, determination, and love. My life revolves around words, their power and usage. I have been a reporter, editor and page designer for more than two decades now. That means I can tell a story in many forms, and I do. And I’d do it for free (Well, if Krispy Kreme doughnuts
Meet Eclipse and Nova.
I rescued them once, and they rescue me daily. I know I will be back. But they don’t know that. For the two weeks I’m gone, they’ll stand by the door every night around 1 a.m. waiting for it to open. It won’t open then. And when it does open hours later, it’ll be Karen the sitter and not me. London calls, and I must heed this rare chance to stretch spirit, sinew, and synapse. I’ll be back. And I will gush, and they will be tentative. They ARE cats after all. I will have conquered greater London in the name of Thor (Our Thor, not the Norse god). I know there will be great people and experiences to come. And maybe I’ll even go back. But right now, as I try to type without disturbing the kids — I mean cats — at my side, I’m a little worried.