I Told My Brother Stories
I told my brother
stories
when
we were tucked in bed.
I
told my brother stories
I
made up in my head.
I
told my brother stories
after
we had said our prayers,
and
our father kissed and left us
in
the room we shared upstairs.
I
told my brother stories
when
tell me a story I’d hear.
We
should have been asleep but
he’d
beg from his bed so near.
I
told my brother stories
Once
upon a time, I’d say
or
continue one I’d started
before
sleep took us
I
told my brothers stories
in
a voice so soft and low
so
our parents couldn’t hear us
in
the living room down below.
I
told my brother stories
when
we were tucked in bed.
Now
those stories are all gone
that
I made up in my head.
This
past week my handyman came to put in a railing on my back steps because of all
the ice it was dangerous to go down without anything to grab onto. Usually, he
has a helper, but this time he brought his wife to help him carry the boards he
had brought and hold things for him. Off and on I looked out the window to see
how he was coming. When they were close to be done, I opened the door and asked
his wife if she liked to read. I thought of that because I had the first book
in my series on the table near the back door waiting for me to take out to my
car where I keep at least two copies of all the books I’ve written. She said,
yes that she loved to read so I told her I’d give her a copy of the first book
I’d written.
When
they had finished the job they came in so I could pay him. I signed the book
for her and asked her if she wanted to see my library. She told me her husband
had told her a lot about me and my house and library. She said her whole family
was readers. She was impressed by all my books and when I told her I was working
on the tenth in my series she wanted to know when I started writing. All I told
her is when I first started writing my series, but it caused me to think about
when I did start writing, and realized it was when I was a teenager.
A
few years ago I came across a Spiral Composition Book with five short stories
written with a pencil and a little hard to read right now, and seven poems,
plus something I wrote describing my nine best friends that I didn’t name so I
had a hard time figuring out the other night who was who. I know who my nine
best friends were, but not sure which description fits who since none of them
live anywhere close now and several are no longer alive.
At
one of our class reunions a few years ago, one of my fellow graduates had a
paper I’d put in the school newspaper (I was the editor of it for a few years)
in which I’d written a four line poem for each of our 57 class members. Well,
I’m not sure there was one of me in that or not. I don’t have a copy of it.
However,
once I graduated, got a job, and started dating the guy I would eventually
marry, I didn’t do much writing, nor did I once we got married and eventually
had four babies in less than five years. The only writing I did then there were
letters to sisters in college or who lived away.
 |
| His senior prom with cane he decorated. |
A year after my eighteen year old son died of cancer, as I’ve written about here before; I went to college for the first time. I was forty-two years old and I loved it. Unlike the students who were fresh out of high school and mostly sat in the back looking bored, I was that enthusiastic student who laughed at some of the jokes the occasional professor told while the others didn’t have a clue.
Most
of all I loved the English, literature and poetry classes I took. I loved writing essays and poetry and had
several printed in the ICON, the college’s literary booklet that came out twice
a year. After the first year, I took extra classes in literature and poetry. Because
I was close in age to many of those professors, we became friends. I also took
summer classes at the main campus in Kent, Ohio.
When
I graduated I wasn’t writing much anymore. I was substituting until I got a
third grade position at Hiram Elementary School in the small town of Hiram
which has a university. In spite of what some people think, teachers have very
little free time. Evenings and weekends were often spent grading papers or
making up lesson plans.
 |
| We all have our own tents. This one is mine. |
Summers
weren’t much better. I had gardening to do, camping trips with my sisters, and
I went to garage sales to find things for prizes when my students managed to
accumulate ten funny monies that I’d made and laminated for something special
they had done. Also, I bought children’s books and things for my classroom that
would go along with whatever units I’d be teaching.
So
when did I get back to writing? I went on to get my master’s degree in the evenings
while I was teaching which included at least one poetry class so I wrote more
essays and poetry then.
I
retired in 2006 after teaching twenty years. I didn’t like the way I had to
teach in the new school we had moved to and the principal who didn’t really
like kids that much. I didn’t like having my students changing classes so I
didn’t have them very much each day. Yes, I like teaching science, but not to
three different classes. I had less than a half hour to teach English.
I
did start substituting in several schools and pretty much enjoyed that except
for teaching kindergarten. At that age, they still needed shoes tied and, they
didn’t like it that I might be doing something their teacher didn’t do, or I
couldn’t remember everyone’s name after I’d taken attendance, or that they had
a hard time paying attention and not poking each other when we sat in a circle
and I read to them.
Sometime
in 2011, my sister Elaine who was teaching seventh and eighth grade social
studies in a school close to her home, but fifty miles from me arranged for us
to meet at our sister Suzanne’s house that is sort of half way between of us,
and proposed that we start writing mysteries in a series so we had money for
our retirement. (Laugh everybody) Well that night we came up with some ideas
for the first book while Suzanne fixed us coffee and snacks and with the news
channel on the TV. So we decided that Elaine and I would work together on
writing that first book. It only worked for a few months. Elaine was still
teaching and didn’t live close so I sent my chapters to her, and she wrote the
next chapter. Sometimes we still got together at Suzanne’s house, but it
usually ended up with their watching the news on TV.
It
wasn’t long before I took over writing the book. We both have different voices
and it was hard finding time to get together anyway. So the first book The Blue Rose came out in December 2012,
and I continued writing the series as well as short stories for different
contests and poetry, too, which I send to The Ohio Poetry contests each year
for those who live in Ohio or did at one time.
After
reading those stories and poems I wrote as a teenager, I’ve decided to type
them up and save them so they’ll be easier to read, but I don’t intend to send
them to contests even though they aren’t that bad.
When
did you start writing?
What
do you write?
I enjoyed your writing story, Gloria. I finally had the time to write when the youngest went off to college. I completed a novel-writing class, joined Sisters and Crime, and got to it.
ReplyDeleteI wrote poems for homemade greeting cards for my family. I was very touched to find my father had kept one for years in his jewelry box. It had been a Father's Day card. My step-mother passed it along to me and it made me happy to know he had treasured it. -- Laura
ReplyDeleteMargaret, I understand all too well how raising kids takes up your time. I did take up painting when my children were young and continued until they were grown and I had moved to my small farm with no place to paint. I've just started typing those short stories I wrote when I was fifteen and sixteen as well as the poems.
ReplyDeleteLaura, I love your poetry and I'm glad your father loved it, too. My parents never lived to see where my writing has gone now and I doubt that I shared what I wrote when I was a teenager either.
Thanks for your writer's story.
ReplyDeleteA charming poem! Thanks for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteOver the years, I've written a few things, but never really became semi-serious about it until I was planning for retirement.
I'm glad you liked it Warren.
ReplyDeleteKathleen, that's pretty much when I started writing, too. I wrote the occasional
poem here and there, but not until I got close to retirement did I start to seriously
write.
What a wonderful poem!
ReplyDeleteI have never thought of myself as a writer. When I was young I'd write the odd poem or story. I am a big letter writer, though, and that's where I poured my words. When my kids were young and my husband traveled a lot for work, that's when I started writing short stories late at night when the house was quiet.
Shari, I used to write a lot of letters, too, but not so much anymore since it's easier to send emails. Still, I love getting letters or cards in the mail and I do write letters to some who don't have a computer. I'm glad you liked that poem. He was closest in age to me and the only one of my siblings who is no longer with us. We shared memories that our younger siblings don't have.
ReplyDeleteShari, being alone at home with the children in bed was a good time for you to start writing. Even though I didn't watch it much and still don't when I was still married the TV was always on evenings and I was teaching during the day so it wasn't until I was living alone only with some critters that I really started writing except for a year or two as a teenager in a room of my own.
Gloria,
ReplyDeleteThis is scary!! I have the SAME spiral notebook filled with stories I'd written in the second or third grade!! I think I tried writing a novel after that, gave up, and didn't go back to writing until my sons were very young. I began to write short stories and poems, changed to novels, and haven't stopped since.
I hope you're going to Malice so we can chat.