OUT OF SYNC

     Have you ever had a day where you felt you were going the wrong way on  a one way street? Or your 'different drummer' had stopped playing.   Or did you feel like a third wheel?  I 've had more than my share of those days recently. Now don't get me wrong, everyone has their troubles but it seems that they should come in little doses.  I'm not whining...just venting!
     I won't bore you with minute details but the lists of infractions and misunderstandings with the local county government, as well as  the state level have come to the point of being a "comedy of errors."
     Have you ever tried to correct an error with a county government to be told that the document you're holding in your hand that states it is a business license, could not possibly be one?  You question your ability to read and then a feminine voice says, "could you fax a copy to us?"
    I reply, "no" but would the license number do anything for you?"
    "Well, yes, please give that to me."
     I do.
     She is gone for several minutes.  "You do have a business license but I don't understand how you got it."
     "You sent it!"
     "Excuse me again." A long period of silence..not even any canned music.
     "Ma'am, I think we've found the problem.  You're in the computer as two different people.  You keep your business license and have a good day."
     "Miss, what about the fines I've paid for the countless times you found reasons not to send the business license?
     Silence.

     Let's go up a level to the state government.  I pay my Sales and use Tax on a quarterly plan.  We made a  major move about the time the April taxes were due.  I did something I had never done--I forgot to file!  Silence from the state department of revenue.  July comes and I do my duty and file.  This was a larger amount than normal because I had a new book to come out and sponsored a fund raiser.  We did well and I paid the taxes due.  Silence from the department of revenue.
     On September 29th a letter arrived from the above mentioned agency.  I intuitively knew it wasn't good news.  It was a bill for close to $4,ooo.oo for failing to file and pay the taxes in July. There was also a mention of going to jail if this matter wasn't settled in a few days.  We were leaving for a business trip to Virginia the next morning.  I had plenty of time to imagine several scenarios in the resolution of this problem. The one going to jail was not seriously considered.  My big question to them would be why they waited so long to notify me?
     The matter has been resolved. That "little old, forgetful lady with Parkinson's" works most of the time. They owed me money and my obligation to them was $5.00!
     Why had they waited so long to contact me?  They were using a telephone number from 2009.
     So if you feel your life is out of sync don't panic or give up.There is usually a reason even if it doesn't make sense to you! And if it doesn't just smile and pretend it does.  It worked out in the end.

Your comments are welcomed.

    

SURPRISES IN MEMOIR WRITING

As I've commented in past posts about teaching memoir writing, it is one of the best jobs I ever had.  Everyone has a story and they are in class for a purpose...usually to learn how to record these stories in a way to entice someone to read them.  Along with this creative way to write their stories, they want to know how to preserve them for future generations. My objective, as a teacher, is to steer them in the right direction by using some tried and true techniques....road signs, if you will. The majority want to take a truckload along to mold into their memoir. I encourage them to dump a great deal of the truck's load....lighten up and make their job easier. After a few exercises of reduce, reduce and reduce, the writer becomes aware of how few facts it takes to be molded into a riveting story with reader appeal.

There are often surprises in memoir writing...some come to the student writing from the deepest recesses of the brain...others to the teacher as she listens to these memories too long forgotten.There is one lesson we do on "Speaking the Truth."  In it we look at different authors and how they handled family stories of pain and negative feelings. We read excepts from Angela's Ashes, by Frank McCourt, his memoir about growing up in Limerick. He tells his story with such feeling the reader is drawn in to the extent that she feels the pangs of hunger, breathes in the putrid smells of poverty, cries in sorrow for the living and the dead, and waited for McCourt's condemnation of his parents. It doesn't come.  He tells the truth, as harsh as that might be, but he is never cruel. It would have been easy for him to slip into that blame game, but he did not.  He could have asked his mother why she needed to spend money for cigarettes when weak tea often served as a meal. He could have lost respect for his father when a week's wages were spent on alcohol. He was critical but not cruel.

Several of my students have been surprised at the memories of family slights and hurts brought to the surface by listening to other students read their assignments.  They have brought these stories into the bright light of day, written them on paper and read them to the class. We listened intently, fighting back the tears, in some cases. A change had taken place.  The writer was different.  Possibly, a great burden was lifted, a sense of forgiveness filled the void. We didn't ask but we knew, the writer was different.

Comments are encouraged.