The Writing Group

Simultaneously to my retiring was the opportunity to join a writing group. My wife and I are consistent walkers in our neighborhood. One day while my wife was walking down the sidewalk by herself, she passed a house where an older woman lives. We would often see this woman doing her own neighborhood stroll with her walker. We would always smile and say hello to her and she would reciprocate. But on this instance while my wife was walking by the house, a different woman was at the house and asked my wife if she was a writer. Sort of a random thing to ask a stranger, but my wife said, yes, she was. The woman said that there was a writing group that was meeting in the house, and would she like to come in. So, she went in and joined the Wednesday morning writing group. This was just a few weeks before I was to retire. She instantly liked the group, and a few weeks later (after retirement was official) I joined the group.

I discovered that this group had been in existence for some 40 years. The membership had changed over the years but the group continued on. Most of this group consists of retired folks like me. Every week each person reads something they have written. It could be something they wrote that week or something they had written in the past. There are no rules. There is no judgement. This is not a critique group, more of a support group (writers need support too). Most of the things I have heard read in the group are personal histories (memoirs), but there has also been fiction and essays. I know I said no rules, but I think everyone has sort of tacitly agreed to stay out of politics in the group. I haven’t heard anyone say to avoid politics; it is just an unspoken guideline for which I am glad. I have very definite political views, and I express them in other places (not in this blog).

Sometimes I read past blog entries for the group. Sometimes I read other things, but the attendees are always equally appreciative as I am for their readings. I really mean that. I am appreciative of all the things I have heard. Many in the group are older than me and they bring their own perspectives on their own lived lives. I am learning more about my community and their lives and hearing first-hand about living through some fascinating events.

Recently Carol, in whose house we had been meeting, informed us that she could no longer live by herself and needed to find another living arrangement. She is 96 years old, so this is perfectly understandable. A couple of weeks ago we said our goodbyes to Carol who is moving away to be with her daughter. There were a few tears shed and we devoted our readings that week to stories about her. We have found a new place to have our meetings, but Carol will always be in our hearts.

Star Line

Comments

Iron Fist in a Velvet Glove

Despite both of us having science backgrounds, my wife and I share a leaning toward the artistic, though we may express it in different ways. In her life, my wife has been a painter, a poet, a singer, an actor, and a fiction writer. Not to mention a mother. I don’t remember what precipitated this event, but my wife, my son, and I were at home in the front room. My wife was responding to something my son said. She said, “remember, you get half your brains from me. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be a complete idiot.” To which my son started howling with laughter and said to me,” I think you have just been insulted.” Sometimes I feel like Rodney Dangerfield. I get no respect. But that is not an uncommon state of affairs for fatherhood. When my son was going to middle school and high school, my wife was always the one to go in with him to get him registered for classes. One time she was unable to go and I had to be the one to get him registered. “Ugh,” he said. “why can’t Mama do i...

Empathy

Websters defines Empathy as: “the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another.” Empathy is what makes us human, though lord knows there are many humans who don’t seem to have any. A person without empathy is like a caveman, only concerned for himself. Selfish. It is a lack of community and by extension, a lack of the need for civilization. The person who lacks empathy can have a bit of community, but only with others exactly like himself. It seems like societies go through cycles of empathy and less empathy. Sometimes a single event can change the course of society. Prior to America’s involvement in WWII, the general feeling in America was not very empathetic. We had our own problems. We were still dealing with the lingering effects of the Great Depression, and had been for years. That kind of stress makes it hard to think of others. Hitler was slashing through Europe. He and his fol...

A Deception

I have a secret. I deceived my mother. Okay, it was like 50 years ago and she is gone now, but still . . . I was generally a good boy. I did as I was told. My family lived a pretty strait-laced, middle-class, fairly conservative life. We were a G-rated family, well, until my older siblings broke the mold, but at this time, I was still in the mold. My friend Rich and I made a plan. Rich had asked me if I wanted to see Cabaret . He said he didn’t think much of Liza Minnelli, but he wouldn’t mind seeing her take her clothes off. We were like 13 years old and sex was ever-present on our minds as much as it was absent in our households. Cabaret was not rated R. It was rated PG. The ratings system has changed since that time. There was no PG-13; there was just the choice of G, PG, and R (X was not an official rating). Apparently the makers of Cabaret satisfied the ratings commission enough to escape an R rating, so it was PG. There was therefore no law or ...

A speculative mind

Search This Blog