Thursday, April 4, 2013

A Word's Worth

Working shifts full time has been an adjustment. That is why by Wednesday, I am tired and have decided to make Wednesdays- Wordless by posting a picture. Wordsworth did say a picture is worth a thousand words.
That reminds me of my eighth grade English teacher, Miss Cook. She definitely encouraged my writing. She made up a folder for me, Mollie Lewis' Anthology. I wrote and wrote, instead of doing the drills we were to do for homework assignments. I learned early to get my way. I couldn't see writing unrelated sentences when I had so many stories waiting to escape from inside me. I used lovely words like emerald green salad, with all the trimmings, about a daughter who prepared a dinner for her dad. I had, and I guess I still do, a great imagination. This father was divorced before we even heard of that much in small town America as we do now.
The March weather also reminds me of Miss Cook. After a sunny, but cool day, she would remark how driving in a car made her roll down her window. I still picture her driving on a sunny Sunday with her black hair blowing in the wind. I never witnessed her driving, but I see her that way.
I read my journals from high school and realize how much I always wanted to be a writer. My daughter, Katie, who is a writer, started early, always writing in wire bound notebooks. By her actions, I felt for a while, I was just a wanna be writer. I allowed myself for the longest time to only write in private, in the early hours. How much I missed by not writing on trips, like California and Scotland, but keeping to my standard of privacy.
I think I need to get back to hand writing in a journal. I try to do the electronic journal, but I have been very lax with that in the all the changes of my life recently. I think it is too much like posting in my blog or writing e-mails and Face Book posting.
"More pictures," was one of the comments when I asked about improving my blog. You can count on a picture on Wednesdays, anyways. I will work more in with my writing. Who am I to argue with William Wordsworth?

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