I believe that we are all blessed with talents, and that those talents
form our personality...the thing that makes us innately us.
Some
of you may think that I have a talent for writing; a way of telling
stories that stirs emotions deep within. Some of you may think that I
have no talent whatsoever, and that may be true also. And maybe I just
like to think that I am a good writer.
The only thing that I will tell you, is that from
the time that I was a child, I wrote stories. When I was a young
stay-at-home mom, I tried to market my writing, and after numerous
rejection letters, I stopped writing for a time.
In the late 1980's, I covered municipal meetings,
school board meetings and wrote an occasional feature for the New Town
Press. And in 1991, the editor gave me a column which we named “Country
Comments.”
The idea, at first, was to write a farm and garden
type column, expounding on topics helpful to the homeowner; how-to
articles on horticulture, gardening and lawn care, pulling from my farm
girl past and country experiences.
Little by little, the column got more personal and
I began to write about my life. My husband and children became my
caricatures and our family experiences were chronicled each month. And
while the column may not have evolved into what the Editor initially
envisioned, I thank her for allowing me the poetic license to experiment
with my writing skills.
Through this column, you have shared my life...the
birth of Sam, the milestones of my children’s lives and our move from
the farmhouse. You came along to the children’s high school and college
graduations, and most recently, were a guest at my daughters wedding
simply by reading this column.
The feed back that I have gotten from the readers
has been phenomenal, and I am so grateful that I was able to touch your
lives through something as simple as sharing mine.
And so it is with mixed emotions that I write this,
my last column. And I worry that my creative side will die the minute I
lay down my pen. But the truth is, that my life has become such that the
column is just one more thing that I have to do, and one more deadline
to keep. And with regret, I realize that something must go.
Yet, I feel that I’m letting my readers down, and
perhaps letting myself down too. And so as a compromise, I will leave
you with one last story.
I was at a work related conference in Atlantic City
just a few weeks ago, standing outside of the Convention Center for a
breath of fresh air.
A voice spoke from behind me, saying, “It’s a
little chilly here in the shade, but if you stand in the sun, it’s
rather warm.”
I turned to reply, expecting to find a fellow
conference goer dressed in business attire like me. Instead, I was face
to face with a woman who looked to be in her 60's, but in truth, may
have been younger and only looked older due to her life circumstance.
She was dressed in layers of sweaters and coats, wool hats and she was
struggling to put a second pair of gloves on over her first. Her
shopping cart was filled with all of her belongings, neatly stacked and
organized.
She smiled at me, and I smiled back and we began
small talk in the way of strangers meeting for the first time. Too soon,
I had to leave to attend a conference session, so I said goodbye and
placed a $5 bill in her hand and told her to get herself something to
eat.
I think, or at least I hope, that I will never
forget how her face broke into an angelic smile, and with it, her eyes
took on a sparkle in the limited afternoon sunshine. And then she did
something that I know I will never forget. She began to offer me
things...a pair of her gloves, the newspaper that she had scavenged and
read earlier that day. Here was a woman who had nothing, offering to
give me her things in exchange for the $5 bill. As I politely refused
her offerings, she innocently asked, “But what can I give you in
return?”
And so I leave you with this story, even more
meaningful perhaps in this season of giving. And I ask one last thing of
you, my readers. This holiday season, please think of that woman who, in
receiving, gave more than she will ever know.
I’m putting my pen down now. Thanks for listening!
