For the last few weeks, as we all have probably done, I've been thinking about what I should focus on for the new year. I found myself returning to things from the past, wondering about childhood things, what I was like, what I thought and why…how I got this way, curious, a writer, teacher, poet. What made me first write and what was I writing when I first put pen to paper to understand, explain and explore what I saw in the world around me, in Kalamazoo, on Southworth Terrace, on the East Side. On Grandpa Stafford’s farm in Michigan.
So, I pulled the heavy black chest from the hallway and struggled it to the floor. The smell rushed up when I flipped it open, cardboard and old paper. Old ink, faded pencil. My journals. I found an entire set from 1985. I was fifteen and the silliest of girls. I hoped I’d find something profound, but no such luck, instead I found this:
“Things I Like to Do” 5-16-85
1. Singing, 2. Baking, 3. Reading 4. Writing (mostly poems) 5. Laughing, 6. Clothes, 7. People watching, 8. Sleeping, 9. Swimming, 10. Basketball, 11. Tennis, 12. Kissing (the right person), 13. Arguing (the right person), 14. Being alone, 15. Filing, painting my nails, 16. Taking showers (for hours), 17. Thinking, 18. Flirting, 19. Learning history, 20. Mysteries, 21. Travel, 22. Hugging my nephew! 23. Magazines, 24. Sitting Indian style, 25. Getting dressed up for something special, 26. Dressing comfortable (bummy), 27. Hearing gossip (not spreading it), 28, Talking with my sister, Rochelle, 29. Talking with my best friend, Jayda, 30. Irritating my mother, 31. Putting on make-up, 32. Taking make-up off, 33. Doing good things for my body (when I do), 34. Dancing (creative, ballet, jazz, soul), 35. French (language, country, people, kissing), 36. Learning about another country, 37. Getting rid of a dude trying to rap (if I don’t like him), 38. Watching little kids fight, (what fun!) 39. Listening to sounds like water (streams), 40. Listening to storms (my favorite sound in the whole world), 41. Watching storms, 42. Watching animals in their every day life, 43. Making people feel special, wanted and needed, 44. Learning about my Indian heritage, 45. Sitting and observing everything, 46. Getting Bs and Cs, at least, 47. Exploring the unknown (that’s just about everything), 48. Biographies and autobiographies, 49. Acting shy!, 50. The smell of freshly baked bread, 51. The smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, 52. The smell of hay, 53. The smell of old libraries and books, 54. Just added today, being with someone special.
I just turned 43 in December. Looking back, I can't help but cringe, thinking "Are these the ingredients of a writer?" Apparently. Go figure. I spent several hours going through a few years of journals with my daughter and laughing at myself, my weirdness and honesty. My daughter, a college grad in May, laughed especially hard.
So, if I can keep this New Year’s Resolution, every Sunday, or every other Sunday, I will try to blog about beginnings. Maybe it will, no, it will change and become about everything, because that's the fluidity of language. You start someplace, like in a poem, and end up where you actually are supposed to be--not where you thought you should be.
I want to focus on how that 15-year old girl became this adult. And how we become our adult selves. Is it pressure? Solitude? Friends? What really causes one person to be a stock broker and another a kindergarten teacher? So, if I’m brave enough, maybe I will post the best of it, editing my spelling. Hopefully, you’ll laugh too and think about your own beginnings. Share them with your child, young or older, who will be figuring things out for themselves soon enough. Happy New Year!
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