Category: Family

Reflections on Memory

~ Linda Wright

My parents both had good memories even at ninety years of age, but they rarely agreed when they told about an event they both remembered. On their sixtieth wedding anniversary I asked them to tell me what that day was like for them. Dad grinned sheepishly and spilled out a tale of how happy he was to pick my mother up at the train station that morning. He said if felt like it was one of the best days of his life. Mom’s version of the day was about how tired she was after her long journey from Canada and how frustrated she was to have the ceremony delayed for hours. She had no pleasant memories of the ceremony. My sentimental father was skilled at seeing the good in the world and ignoring the disdainful. My mother harbored resentment and jealousy that often gave a bitter taste to her remembrances. Memory it seems to me is a fragile thing, held together more by the glue of emotion than reality.

Day 3 (of 31 days of free writing)

Self-Censorship in Writing

~ Linda Wright

Once I heard a bestselling author talk about self-censorship. She said that authors often hold back from writing what is true to their story or characters because they believe they know what readers want, what people will buy.

Before a book is even printed, she warned, censorship is in play. I mused about self-censorship a lot when I was writing my memoir. I have a rather limited imagination, so I wrote about myself and my family. I wasn’t as concerned about my book sales as I was about how much of what I had previously kept private could I bear to make public. I made a lot of decisions about what to reveal and what to leave out. Some of those decisions were based on relevance to the story line. It’s the decisions that I made based on cowardice that I would name as self-censorship.

Day 2 (of 31 days of free writing)

Reflections on Genre Censorship

~ Linda Wright

I was a librarian for thirty years, so censorship is anathema to me. Sure books can be harmful, that’s because books can change minds, attitudes, even life choices. Overall I find that it is human nature to find change threatening. As much as I like to pretend that I love change, the truth is often that is just a story I tell myself.

I know the genres that I prefer to read and the authors I admire. Recently I made a conscious decision to try something new. I actually read a romance novel for the first time. I mean it was pure happy-ever-after love story that ticked every box for its genre. First the couple don’t like each other, then there is a kiss and pow! Next comes the break-up and its devastating to the characters and the reader. We all know they are perfect for each other, why don’t they? Onward to the make-up scene, which is spectacular and the happy-ever-after. Sigh. What a relief and who cares that it was totally unrealistic?

Maybe it didn’t change my mind one bit, but it was a welcome rest to my over-thinking brain.

Day 1 (of 31 days of free writing)

Awake

~ Linda Wright

Pulled out of a deep sleep, I became conscious of what seemed to be the whine of a thousand-pound mosquito. No, I realized someone was sawing a tree. The thud when the tree fell vibrated in my chest. It invaded my peaceful quiet. The annoying whine buzzed on and on.

Later that day, I drove to the post office. Just a block away from home, I slowed the car as I approached the stop light on the corner and saw the clutter of downed trees and heavy equipment parked on both sides of the street. So that was where all this noise was coming from. The traffic light turned green and I went on my way.

The month before we had noticed a new sign at this corner announcing, “Luxury Home for Sale.” We laughed. Before then, at the end of the unpaved driveway there had been a metal gate with a sign reading “KEEP OUT.” We thought there was a house somewhere behind all that bramble. We pictured a recluse living in a run down house, perhaps with a loaded rifle standing his ground.

Yet the next time I set out on an errand in that direction, I was startled to see the lot completely cleared and the ground flat. There was no house, apparently there never was one. I now had a clear view of our next door neighbor’s back yard and house.

As I waited for the light to change, I caught a glimpse of motion in my peripheral vision. Above my car a Red Tailed Hawk gently descended heading to where only a day or two before there had been trees. It crossed over my windshield gliding, wings spread wide. The outstretched feathers displayed an intricate pattern in staggered checks of tan and brown. Then seeing no trees to land upon, it tilted slightly, gave its powerful wings a flap, and lifted skyward. I gasped at its beauty.

I wondered if the hawk was as startled as I to see the empty space. I imagined bird and squirrel nests crashing to the ground when the trees were felled. I imagined the Live Oak, Pine, Arrow Wood, Magnolia and dozens of other trees in our property sensing some biochemical impact when their companions were killed.

Day by day the changes are so gradual we don’t notice, but they are there. Clear cutting land to build a house seems so harmless. But we know that trees change our water table and our air quality. Wangari Maathai was awarded the 2004 Nobel Peace Prize for her work planting trees. It wasn’t just my peaceful sleep that was disturbed by the removal of those trees.

Recognizing that sustainable development, democracy and peace are indivisible is an idea whose time has come… Today we are faced with a challenge that calls for a shift in our thinking, so that humanity stops threatening its life-support system. We are called to assist the Earth to heal her wounds and in the process heal our own – indeed, to embrace the whole of creation in all its diversity, beauty and wonder.


Wangari Maathai

Finding Now at Seventy

~ Linda Wright

Rolling the hard candy around in my mouth with my tongue, I taste the sweet, the tingle, the tart of the lemon drop. One sensation blends upon the next like the way my mind travels back and forth from thought to thought.

It used to be that the things that floated through my consciousness were about the near future, what to make for dinner, how to get the problem solved, should I call the friend who was having a birthday or send a card?

More and more these days my random thoughts are about the past. Chopping carrots a piece falls to the kitchen floor and I remember the little dog who once would have snapped up that bit eagerly. When I stoop to pick up the orange chip, a tear comes to my eye. I miss that little dog. Then I smile, with the memory of that floppy-eared gentle companion.

The past takes up space in my mind because there is more of it. I am, after all, in my seventieth year of life and it’s a fact I will not be alive seventy years from today. Some memories come with sadness, some with joy, some with regret, some with pride.

Thinking about my mother spending her last years in a nursing home, unable to get out of bed without assistance, I despair. Her independence gone, she made the best of it, chatting with the nurses aids and reassuring her roommate. It gave my mother pleasure to help someone else. I know there were also nights she cried herself to sleep. Will I be able to adjust as gracefully should I spend the last years of my life confined to an institution? Sometimes images of the future make me cringe. Over the years I have learned not to let these worries linger.

After dinner, the tortoiseshell cat settles herself on my lap. I feel her pressure on my aching hip joint and smile as her warmth eases the pain. My thoughts roll from the injury that hip sustained years ago. How I wish I had not fallen that day. Regret seeps in as I remember the cost for being in a hurry. I’m not in a hurry now. I stroke the plump fur critter that is purring on my lap and let the thoughts of past and future drift away.

Noticing the shift from bitter to sweet is not as easy as rolling a hard candy around my mouth. It takes practice to discover that life is not always sour, and not always sweet.