My mom was a writer. She
actually was published their own way I don't know what she could of
done if she had been able to been nourished and supported. She was
always writing. Poetry, some pros she even did a lot of submissions
to the local newspaper. Would not go so far as to say that she had a
column but she wrote regularly for an established column in our local
paper there invoicing. Something titled like “In My Back Yard”
“From My Kitchen”. She was just on the fringe. I think that she
been able to have a little education are more education particularly
in creative writing she can really done something. However, being a
woman in the 50s USA making it big for yourself was quite a rarity.
I'm fairly certain that
whatever fire her inspiration I have for writing came from my mother.
I wrote early on. I really liked poetry published writing poetry, I
didn't read much except Poe when it came to poetry. There's something
about the written word that intrigued me and still does. Before my
accident the only exposure to a typewriter I had was an old Smith
Corona of I suppose my mother's since she's the only one who ever
typed. I suppose if one knew what they're doing especially if they
knew how to spell the typewriter was okay but totally vexed me
because I was always having to go back and correct. This was way
before self-correcting IBMs became a fixture and way before CPUs and
personal computers. When I had my accident a lot of things changed. I
got things just by asking. The things I got were not necessarily
top-of-the-line are quality but they were functional.
Occupational therapy was
one of the slots of my day while I was in rehab. The really wasn't a
whole lot the occupational therapist could do with me because my
limited hand function. I was forced to do this leather project Tandy
craft project. You know, sir like a Project where you spend all day
tapping the leather with these instruments are tools and you leave an
impression. I of course did my initials inside some sort of Gothic
design. I could find it today I would put it on something just for
the hell of it. My OT's name was Elsie and her day totally brightened
when I came upon electric typewriter. Since I had no finger
capability we quickly McIvered tags pegs on my hands and I was off to
the races. I typed in typed. Later after I returned home. The family
actually invested in this ancient typewriter with a huge carriage. As
an old IBM I'm sure either donated or procured from some newspaper
type organization. The carriage was large enough I can put in large
sheets of paper and type away. In fact later on when I went to high
school I typed up a number of off-the-wall news sheets are radical
rags. One I remember was called The Seminary Scope-A Very Left
Look At a Very Right Church. I
thought I was so clever. I typed up about four copies every Sunday
night to distribute at the Monday morning seminary table. Basically
made fun of all the righteous kids in the class. It went over well.
But the big event was me hunched over my typewriter typing away
wishing I had better skills but thankful for what I had…
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