Month: June 2016

Summer, again.

Posted by

0

I miss some of the full experience of summer.  When I was growing up, we didn’t use air conditioning. We had a window unit, but it was only used to cool the living room in the evenings while we watched television after our baths.

This insulated world I inhabit does not allow the sights, sounds and smells of nature reach my senses. I don’t feel the thick tropical air of my Texas jungle home.  People today seem personally offended by the natural heat and humidity of a Southeast Texas summer.  I just take off my fogged up eyeglasses when I go outside to get in the car.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the air conditioning very much. Especially to sleep at night.  Still, I sometimes wish to open the windows in the darkness of twilight and hear the crickets and frogs sing to the stars.

When I was a child living in this very house, a pair of whippoorwills lived in the front yard near the cedar tree that is no more. I heard one a few nights ago when I happened to be outside at dusk. My heart was thrilled at the sound of music in the fading light.

Grape sodas, fudgesicles, bologna sandwiches all tasted wonderful when I was a kid. Water from the end of the water hose was the best thing in the world to drink.  I had to be careful to let all the scalding water run out before touching it.  There will never be a watermelon that tastes like the ones I ate before age twelve.  It all tasted better because my body was hot, thirsty and tired from physical exertion running and riding a bike and swimming.   Anyone who knows what it means to “smell the rain” understands the feeling of relief and sense of peace it brings.  Childhood was summer spent outside.

The world felt better because I was innocent.  I didn’t know about death and disease, war and hate, discrimination and intolerance.  I knew the clean facts of history presented in school classrooms, but never imagined all the horrors as an adult I have learned existed and still exist.

Innocence of childhood. Truth and honesty of living. I can only bare so much pain.  It is a fine balance point to remain compassionate and not become indifferent to others’ sufferings.  It requires retreating to the mind of a child.  Taking things as they come and responding with honesty and truth.  Tasting the fullness of living and not gorging on the horrors of life.

I must again express my gratitude for having a loving Father and a loving spouse. Both provide me with strength and protection from the horrors of life. When He allows or sends something into my life that is too difficult to bear alone, He and he are with me to get me through to the other side.  They help me remain compassionate and regain my balance.  I am eternally grateful for what I do not deserve.  The blessing of being able to smell the rain and hear the night creatures serenade the stars.  A Father’s Mercy and a husband’s love. I cannot regain innocence.  I can get up and live fully, engage with life to become thirsty and hungry and truly taste the fullness of living.

Hatching a Story

Posted by

2

After these many months of posting here, hinting about writing a book, I finally have a storyline. I will divulge nothing about the plot. However, if any of my readers know of good resources about the Big Thicket during the first half of the last century, please send me the link, title, writer.  I want to supplement my second hand lore and childhood impressions with other sources.

I did tell my daughter about the plot and the inspiration. She immediately told me of my responsibility to paint a vivid picture of my protagonist.  I will have to demonstrate the character through realistic scenes to make her believable.  Otherwise she will seem too extraordinary and not inspire empathy or sympathy.

I purchased a couple of notebooks to start the first draft. I type these posts on the keyboard.   It is not my favorite method.  I prefer to write in my journal.  I use approximately 5×7 size unlined hardbound sketchbooks for my journal.  I keep a similar size spiral for lists and temporary notes. In view of these preferences, I purchase similar sized spiral tablets.  They will feel familiar.  They are lined pages.  I don’t think that will make a difference.

Time to write. I don’t want to waste time trying to figure out the opening line.  In fact, the story may start in the middle and I will need to work on the beginning after I see where it goes nearer the end.

I picked up a tablet to work on the non-fiction piece I have in mind. It may be more a series of short essays with some recipes and “how we used to do it” descriptions.  That will be fine.  It is the kind of book I like to read.  I don’t want to lose all of the heritage from my mother and grandmothers. I already have forgotten things that a photograph or something brings to mind. I don’t know if I will recall clearly.  No doubt others near me will recall more clearly.  But, they can write their own book if they don’t like mine.

I am slowly but surely eliminating the excuses. Now to push aside the fear.  A phrase I have on a card.  “Keep feeling along the wall for the gap.  When you find it, just go on through. Even if you drown.” I wrote this after I awoke from a dream seeking a gap in a cliff wall.  I did find it, go through and woke up as the water rushed around me.  But, that was better than standing at the blank stone wall, waiting to die slowly.   Powerful images for powerful feelings.  I intend to use those very feelings to get the letters into words into sentences into paragraphs into chapters into a story.

 IMAG1570