My youth was noted for one thing, a nomadic life. By the time I had finished my education as a teenager I had been through 14 different schools. My first 30 years of life I had not been anywhere from birth more than 3 years maximum, and most would be a lot less than that.
Formal education was a struggle, though there were many other aspects of life that would open my eyes to things I would never have learned from a book. Perhaps a part of the coping mechanism of a youth living an unsettled life was the reason that I would find it easier to quickly forget the people and places of my past. The reasoning being that I could not settle if I was always looking back at where I had been. I could speak some more on that, but for a moment let me share with you an experience that took place in 2006.
It was just another funeral. Never a week went by without a phone call with a request from the community usually from people with no church connection. On this occasion I had often met the deceased when visiting a local nursing home, but never the family. Her son lived away from the district and all the arrangements for the funeral were made with the daughter. The first opportunity to talk with her son was at the “tea” that followed the funeral. As I spoke with him and his family I began to realise that they lived in a district that I knew very well, I lived there briefly as a teenager. I recognised some of the places he spoke of, but not the people.
Then, as he spoke of a business in the locality the memories began to revive that much more. I remembered the name of the family that owned the business and spoke of the family. I felt safe, because I thought the family no longer were there, and that seemed to be confirmed as he spoke of the name of another family who owned the business. That was fine, until his daughter interrupted and said, “But that’s the maiden name of the wife of the couple who now are the owners.” She mentioned her first name and I knew the name instantaneously. As teenagers we were very close, but with my nomadic life, and the unreliability of the postal system at the time we lost touch. Never seen or heard of each other for 40 years.
I was shocked, not so much that I remembered her. What shocked me most was that she was the only one I remembered. It was a difficult period in my life and many people had played a part in being my support. Why could I not recall who they were? For the sake of professional attitude, I needed to keep these thoughts to myself, but it was not easy.
Move forward now to the beginning of 2007. For health reasons I needed to take time out from work. Life was always very active for me with a keen interest in the community where I live, so taking time out was something that seemed so alien. Perhaps that was one reason that I did not give a lot of serious thought to writing, there was never the time. I would write small items for magazines and local newspapers, but nothing more than that. Often I thought about spending more time writing, but time was not a luxury that I possessed. There was always another project to engage in.
So, I have to take it easy, they said.
Take time off, they said.
I could not imagine that I could cope with sitting “twiddling my thumbs”. What could I do with myself? I thought back to that funeral, and the conversation that was exchanged. As an adult I have considered that every person we meet in the journey of life is a person to be treasured. We all develop in accordance with how we interact with each other. Yet, I wondered how true I had been to that concept in my youth, if the “treasured” people had been forgotten. Could this be the reason that time had been thrust upon me, time to reflect and honour the people of the past? I was beginning to learn an important lesson here, I feel, as I sat at my computer recording as much as I could reflect. There is so much character and human interest stories that need to be recorded in real people as well as the stories of fiction.
It was, at first, an action intended as a personal exercise, but as a story of 18months of my life emerged I was encouraged to publish. It was my first book, with another on the way. But what is true for all of us is, if a dream of writing is to be fulfilled, it needs to be given time out of our lives to put it into action.
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For a sequel to this post, go to
http://open.salon.com/blog/jonmagee/2009/04/26/paperback_writer_beatles_the_story_continues
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Comments
And you did it! Rated.
As you may or may not know I was forced to retire from the pulpit last April by medical issues, and while I had intended to retire at the end of the year anyway, as I would be 70 and had extended my intended retirement date by 5 years already, I still felt put upon by God for throwing this mess at me after all those years in the vineyard.
It has taken me the better part of a year to stop climbing on the pity pot every day, but I am getting there. "Adapting" is what I used to tell my counselees when they wondered where all this therapy was taking them. Now I am my own counselee and I remind myself that "adapting" is good medicine for me as well.
In any case I thoroughly agree that we need to disconnect to be able to reconnect. And once reconnected the writing comes. And I have to say that OS has been an unexpected blessing to me. For it is here that I have found an warm, welcoming, receptive extended family of friends that I need to make the transition.
My most cherished piece I have done here on OS has been the serial posting of "A WWII Romance" which is the story of how my Mom and stepDad met at the end of WWII.
Only I could have told the story because nobody else now living knows all of it. I was shocked at how much came back to me and how the story took on a greater depth as I wrote. Mostly, though, as I wrote I realized how hard it was for me to both remember and write. Some of it was so hard I had to put it down for a while and come back to it.
When I was reading out loud the final draft of the final post in the series to Sue, my wife, I could not for the life of me get the last three paragraphs out of my mouth. Tears flowed from me and my throat constricted such that nothing came out but sobs.
I would do it over again in an heartbeat, because this was a privilege that God had given me to honor two people who, had I not written it, would not much be remembered by the rest of the world, if remembered at all.
You write: "Could this be the reason that time had been thrust upon me, time to reflect and honour the people of the past?"
I answer with a resounding "Yes!"
Wonderful post. Thank you.
Monte
I remember reading that sometimes it's to practice extreme fortitude and patience. Patience means, literally, 'to suffer more' ... I recall some 'stuff' we experience may often take as many as thirty-five years. Ping! Then, later, we reframe some insight or revelatory truth. The frame is enlarged.
I love the word:`METANOIA.
I'll ponder the original intent.
The butterfly analogy no hurt.
Life is weaving the silk cocoon?
Then, a coconut flops on heads?
Clunk. Gong. Light bulb flashes.
A lightening bolt pierces a brain.
A fog of critical analysis is Great!
Why consume books, brochures,
tea parties, huh? Listen to others.
Attend fireside chats. Yes discern.
Read human nature. Read people.
Books have their place. Penetrate.
The Spirit quickens one on insides.
Folks will be pelting Ya on noggins.
Life is to chart oceans? Happiness.
Strange Joy will bubble up in spite.
good night. what a oil canvass day.
Maybe it takes one-half a century?
Maybe we will see a shooting star?
Never allow fear to throb and rob.
Love's passion? Ay, not in a book.
The book may help if we are alive.
Whatever a- happening? O Wilds.
It sure is ... There is no doubt, no.
Yes too. Well, there's no way out.
We might as well participate. Yes.
O/E ...... There are many stories to come. With ref the book itself, you could google "From barren rocks ... to living stones" (the title of the book) or order from any book shop quoting the ISBN number 9781434381491
Screamin mama ..... it was my pleasure. Thank YOU for commenting.
Monte ..... No, I was not aware of the situation you described,though I knew you were in ministry somewhere, but thats a great testimony you have revealed in your comment. God bless.
Dustbowldiva, yes, the chance meetings and the resulting ssues from them can be quite amazing. Looking back, so often these chance meetings seem to fit so easily into a wider plan that it makes one wonder about the word coincidence or chance. BTW, slightly off topic, I am intrigued as to how you came across your nick name.
Arthur, what a gift you have, not merely to make a comment of encouragement but also to frame it within a poetical composition.
thank God we have come out of it unscathed.
Rated.
Thank you for the comments and the ratings.
Thank you for taking the time to read and comment on what I have submitted.
This reasonated with me: "As an adult I have considered that every person we meet in the journey of life is a person to be treasured."
I've always felt that everyone that we meet on our journey through life is there to teach us something in some way. Whether our experience is positive or negative, we can glean some parable from our interaction with them.
I was once in an abusive relationship and that taught me the common signs of an abuser that I take great care in looking for when dating and looking for a future partner. The birth of my daughter taught me how to love unconditionally with utter abandon and I treasure that lesson of giving freely from the heart.
Thanks for that timeless reminder. Rated
I hope that the time will soon come when you will find that special person who will be there for you for your future.
I would like to know more about your childhood--what was it like,and how did you cope with moving so much?
You know, it may seem like a glib statement but it was the only life I knew, and I guess we just accepted it as being normal just as others feel it is normal to live in the same town all their lives. As I said above, formal education was difficult, but there were other things we learnt in the school of life which would never make sense in a book. Customs that seem strange to us in the west often had a practical reason that lay behind it, for example.
The quickest move I ever made was when we were evacuated out of Aden during the terrorism in 1967. The soldiers arrived to inform us we had half an hour to gather together what we needed, a plane was ready to fly us back to Britain! And that was not for a holiday, that was a move to a new home in another country.
Some of my exeriences can be found in the blogs here.
http://open.salon.com/blog/jonmagee/2009/03/05/love_wins_all
http://open.salon.com/blog/jonmagee/2009/02/04/when_will_they_ever_learn
http://open.salon.com/blog/jonmagee/2009/01/31/the_lowly_caterpillar_or_the_butterfly_above
My book, "From barren rocks ... to living stones" draws from the 18 month experiences of coming out of Aden. My next book, which will soon be completed, draws from the experiences in the Far East.
JK, always good to see you whatever the time. I totally agree with your thoughts, itwould be far better if we could be laid back and follow the opportunities as they arrive. Thanks for your supporting comments.