When my only child was but a wee tyke, I fell in love with children’s books, and when I went back to school to become a teacher, I was introduced to some high quality children’s literature in a Library Science class with Dr. Jane Ellen Carstens. I continued to frequently read it, even though my own students were reading more advanced books. Now, out of the classroom for nearly 20 years, I still read some. Grandkids are a good excuse. And my bride taught 4th grade for the last several years of her career, so there were books showing up at home all the time.
There are three books from the children’s realm that I have often given as gifts to adults. I recommend these to everyone, young and old. Homecoming by Cynthia Voigt is out of print, last I checked. Try the library. Maniac Magee by Jerry Spinelli and Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech are still available in book stores. All three are good for one’s soul.
There are three books from the children’s realm that I have often given as gifts to adults. I recommend these to everyone, young and old. Homecoming by Cynthia Voigt is out of print, last I checked. Try the library. Maniac Magee by Jerry Spinelli and Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech are still available in book stores. All three are good for one’s soul.
February 2018, a very dear friend died. Around the same time, another friend suffering from nonalcoholic cirrhosis learned he would not be a transplant candidate. A couple of months ago another dear friend was diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer. Two weeks ago, I learned a family member has stage 4 small cell lung cancer. I just attended a high school reunion and was reminded of our schoolmates who were no longer with us. I could list many more, but you get the idea. Things seemed bleak
Yesterday, far removed from thoughts of children’s books, searching for some path to think through the sorrow, I stumbled across a quote from book of wit and wisdom - Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid. The author, penname Lemony Snicket also wrote an unusual set of 13 unlucky stories, “A Series of Unfortunate Events.” From The Bad Beginning (#1) to The End (#13), they are a hoot. Nothing goes well. This tied in well to my mood, actually lightened it up a bit, because even I could recognize the humor here. Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid is described as mostly dark humor, but the specific quote I stumbled on isn’t humorous.
“It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.”
Conversely, I considered walking downstairs in the dark, thinking there is one more stair, and the jolt that shoots up through your foot, leg and even into your back that tells you, all too soon, “it’s here,” whatever ‘IT’ it happens to be.
Then I found a piece on Facebook, posted by my high school Latin teacher who’d recently lost her mother, Sandra Bowen. This is cited to a Jamie Anderson. “Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
“It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.”
Conversely, I considered walking downstairs in the dark, thinking there is one more stair, and the jolt that shoots up through your foot, leg and even into your back that tells you, all too soon, “it’s here,” whatever ‘IT’ it happens to be.
Then I found a piece on Facebook, posted by my high school Latin teacher who’d recently lost her mother, Sandra Bowen. This is cited to a Jamie Anderson. “Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
That high school reunion I mentioned was an annual alumni event. There were folks there who’d graduated during WWII and one who’d graduated that very day – and most years in between. Several attendees mentioned they enjoyed my blog postings. I was reminded that I hadn’t posted in a long, long time. I did mention to one friend that it took a lot out of me. He was surprised. Since my greatest stumbling block has been the pieces about my brother David, trying to work through the years after I left home when we all lived our separate lives, seeing one another only once every year or two. It is a long string of years with not much detail about Dave to fill it with. I guess I’m also concerned about what I should include and how I should describe things since Dave’s widow Dee and his two kids may read it.
![Picture](/uploads/3/7/6/1/37616355/senior-73_orig.png)
Using maiden names - Row 1: Barbara Tull, Noel Broughton, Teresa Hess, Donna Webster, Debbie Trulock, Carol Braun. Row 2: Gayle Wright, Darlene Cash, Brenda Watson, Kathy Kittrell, Debbie Melton, Becky Watson, Debbie Wampler. Row 3: Alan Combs, Jeff Long, Alan Hall, Victor Huggins, Jim Devore, Tom Spencer, Marc McCoy. A pretty fair handful of us from the Class of 1973 showed up at the Alumni Banquet in June 2018.
So there you have it. Kids’ literature, sick and dead people, and the Charlestown High School Alumni Banquet have all contributed to getting me through my writer’s block (or maybe blockhead). I’ll give the blog another go