To write about me is to write about family -- parents, grandparents, husband, children, friends, teachers, even strangers who have, one way and another, influenced the "me" I have become, am still becoming.  I have read somewhere that a poem is never finished, just relegated to paper and print, waiting for the next edit.  Don't get me wrong--I am no lyric beauty.  Nor do I consciously wait for some internal awakening or external event to expand or reduce the "me" typing this lame biographical note.  But I am, in a sense, made up of varying lines the world has arranged, letter by letter, into Delores Lynn Due Doiron.  And I have a strong feeling that life, the "editor" of my days, will continue to "tweak" my perceptions, how I view and understand what surrounds, and how what surrounds views and interprets me. 

           Along the way to becoming, I have sold Avon door-to-door, built two natural stone fireplaces, changed saw blades on welding shop machinery, been a bookkeeper, real estate agent, secretary, log-peeler, oil painter, textile artist, horse-shoe tosser, quilter, gardener, hunter, two-stepping country-dance fanatic, student, editor, lampshade maker, beader, embroiderer, poet, braggart, whiner, celebrant, and mourner.  My late husband, Al, once told me I was good, but that I always stopped short of perfecting whatever I was attempting.  And, I suppose if I could "consciously" make a "line" edit to the me I am these days, it would be in this area of stopping short, of not following through. 

For the moment, that's more than plenty "About Lynn."  I have further plans for this page, ideas about links from names mentioned above to carry readers (who have an interest) to photos, stories, memoir excerpts, or poems about each of these contributors to this odd verse of a woman we'll call me.  Hopefully, fingers crossed, I will not stop short this time.

                                                                                                          Lynn