I am the oldest of seven children. That was the first major influence on who I became. Poverty was another. We did without or we made what we needed. Writing is the ultimate example of creating something from nothing, isn't it?
I can't remember life without books. For a time we lived in a remote, unfinished vacation cabin in northern California. From the outside it was charming, surrounded by dense fir trees that were cleared just enough for our house and a large garden. We discovered there were no inside walls--just 2x4's and tar paper surrounding rough wooden floors. There was no plumbing and no electricity. Three of us shared a mattress on the floor, and when it was cold we would wake in a tumble of legs and blankets, like a litter of puppies in a basket.
My stepfather had a battery-operated phonograph, on which we played music by Joan Baez and Bob Dylan. There was an album of Rudyard Kipling's Just So stories, and others with Hamlet, Macbeth, The Three Musketeers. Instead of pictures, we had bookshelves to hold a library of classic literature, science fiction, poetry and philosophy; some of it in 50 volumes of the Great Books series complete with maroon leather spines and gold leaf edging. I skipped from Tolkein to Pearl S. Buck to Little Women and Pilgrim's Progress and thought it was all equally wonderful. In the evening we would light the kerosene lantern, get out the Complete Works of Shakespeare and divide up the characters so we could read it aloud. We recited Robert Frost, and shared our own original poetry and stories. I drove my fifth grade teacher crazy quoting Shakespeare and making the answers to my homework rhyme.
Beautiful words. Words took me away from the harsh reality of a large, poor family. I read tirelessly, escaping to the only privacy available, imaginary places so real that I startled to sounds that were described on the pages and felt hunger for the food that I could actually smell. Books brought gentility, beauty, education and wealth into my life; books gave me goals and dreams. The stories I read taught me about the rest of the world so that when I was old enough to choose, I knew what I wanted.
Naturally, I chose wrong quite a few times anyway.
Today I am 40 and divorced. I have two handsome and gifted sons, both musicians. One is a freshman in college, the other a freshman in high school. I have a few close friends, a large network of pleasant associates, and reasonable amount of success. By day, I work for a small consulting firm specializing in fiber optic projects. Evenings and weekends I have my own tiny company that specializes in brochures, newsletters and other small writing and design projects. I am privileged to work with people that I respect and enjoy. I write poetry for my sanity, and have a book manuscript in progress.
On my last birthday, I realized in amazement that the road from where I started to where I am now may be the short half of my journey. I've never been bored for more than an hour and never accused of a lack of passion. I am a lucky woman.
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