Independence and Imagination __ A Fourth of July Reflection__

Metalic Fireworks

Today, as fireworks light up the sky and we celebrate freedom in many forms, I find myself reflecting on a different kind of independence—the quiet, persistent kind that lives in creativity, even when the body has its limits.

Over the past year, I’ve returned to my roots as a writer, artist, educator, and developer. My poetic memoir, Shades of Me, is nearly ready for relaunch. It’s more than a book—it’s a testimony to resilience, to finding voice through verse and art when speech was challenged. Its second edition reflects not just the past, but what I’ve become.

In parallel, I’m revisiting my debut novel, planning a hardcover edition that includes a beautifully illustrated map tracing Jean Pierre’s journey from Paris to the Republic of Venice—the atmospheric setting for the story’s heart. It’s a tale I still believe in, and now I want it to live more fully on the page.

But what lies ahead is perhaps the most exciting. MARCELLO—a long-term dream of building a virtual museum experience using Unity, beginning with the Grand Domicile. I see this not just as software, but as world-building with soul—a place where history, philosophy, and speculative fiction intersect in 3D form.

And there's WISE—Wooten’s Interactive Statistics Experience—a vision for a gamified, exploratory environment where students play with data, learning through interaction, intuition, and iteration. Imagine a museum of statistical thought where each exhibit teaches a concept through exploration and creativity.

Of course, Parkinson’s and other challenges mean time is elastic. Fatigue comes when it comes. So I ask myself, "How do you eat an elephant? "And the answer, always, is this:

"One bite at a time."

That’s my Fourth of July message. Freedom isn’t just movement—it’s the ability to dream, to plan, and to take one small step when I can.

In the months ahead, I’ll be sketching timelines, building apps, designing games (Wampus World, Senet, Play Five, Go Fish, and Slap Jack), and drafting pieces of a future that may take five years—or ten—or longer.

But it’s mine. One bite at a time.