Six-Word Story

Have you heard of the six-word story?

Ernest Hemingway’s is the most famous:
For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

The distillation process intrigues me.
Because all that is not written captures the essence.

Larry Smith and Rachel Fershleiser collected
six word memoirs and published them in
Not Quite What I Was Planning.
Here are a few.

Good, evil use the same font.
~ Arthur Harris

Detergent girl:  Bold. Tide. Cheer. All.
~ Martha Clarkson

Oh sweet nectar of life, coffee.
~ Daniel Axenty

I am considering starting Six-Word Saturday.
Perhaps in September?
Six words are not so easy.

If George Grant has eleven
and Abraham Piper has twenty-two,
why can’t we (you are included) do six?

It’s great practice.

The art of reduction.

~     ~     ~

Today is my son’s 27th birthday.
For Chris, I offer two sextuples.
Bookends of your life so far.

Beyond exhaustion, strength spent.  Baby Boy!

Backlit strength, silhouetting grace.  He stands.

Best Of

I picked up a book and learned enough HTML on Saturday to add a little module on the side called Best Of.  I put  links to my favorite posts there.  When I’m new to a blog, I appreciate reading the writer’s favorites, especially if I don’t have time to scroll from the 2005 to the present.

If you need a laugh, go to the post on Millet and read the comments.  If you need a cry, go to May 7, 1968.  It’s that easy! 

Now I can add links to non-Xanga blogs.  Woohoo!

It energizes me to learn something that, at first blush, seemed so scary-hard.  I remember when I felt that way about depreciation. 

One Paragraph, Eight Hours


Move over, David McCullough.  Make room for another Pulitzer Prize winner, Barbara Tuchman, to stand next to you on the pedestal of my high esteem. 

Folks, I have found an  Important New Author. (“New to me,” she shrugs and grins.) I’ve only read the preface, the introduction and the first paragraph, but I am twitterpated. Tuchman’s success in writing, given in the preface, is “hard work, a good ear, and continued practice.” 

…hard work, a good ear and continued practice…

What does that look like, fleshed out?  It took Tuchman eight hours (!) to write this opening paragraph, all five sentences, of  The Guns of August.  

So gorgeous was the spectacle on the May morning of 1910 when nine kings rode in the funeral of Edward VII of England that the crowd, waiting in hushed and black-clad awe, could not keep back gasps of adminration. In scarlet and blue and green and purple, three by three the sovereigns rode through the palace gates, with plumed helmets, gold braid, crimson sashes, and jeweled orders flashing in the sun.  After them came five heirs apparent, forty more imperial or royal highnesses, seven queens–four dowager and three regnant–and a scattering of special ambassadors from uncrowned countries.  Together they represented seventy nations in the greatest assemblage of royalty and rank ever gathered in one place and, of its kind, the last.  The muffled tongue of Big Ben tolled nine by the clock as the cortege left the palace, but on history’s clock it was sunset, and the sun of the old world was setting in a dying blaze of splendor never to be seen again.

Notes of Condolences

“What should I say?”

Don’t we all have a hollow stomach when it comes time to write a note or make a phone call to a friend who has experienced the death of a loved one?  It is awkward and difficult and uncomfortable.  Often we try to write what makes us feel better and miss the opportunity to be a true comfort to the bereaved.  

1.  I think the most common mistake we make is to gloss over the loss and go straight to the hope of the future, i.e. “I’m so sorry you lost your son in Iraq, but what a joy that you will see him again in heaven.”  There is a time to every purpose under heaven, and that includes a time to mourn.  We need to allow time to process the loss, time to cry every tear in our body out, time to pull the blanket over our face and convulse. 

Why are we so impatient with pain? We are we so uncomfortable with grief, so anxious to sweep it up and dispose of it?  One of the most asinine things I’ve ever heard was spoken to my girlfriend whose eighteen year old daughter was killed by a drunk driver.  Three months had passed since the accident; a woman approached my girlfriend whose taut-as-a-drum face reflected her grief and asked, “Aren’t you over it yet?”

2.   An easy way to slip-up is to gloss over the loss by going straight to the explanation.  We all become accountants and won’t tolerate untidy loose strings of mystery.  Or we become a Fix-It Man who needs to fix whatever is broken.  What we say might be true…but the timing is false.  God does work all things together for good, a believer is undoubtedly happier in the presence of the Lord, the deceased is certainly spared more grief on this earth.  Expressions of faith –  “The Lord gives, the Lord takes away, Blessed be the name of the Lord” – are sometimes articulated by the bereaved.  If she says it, accept it.  If she doesn’t, don’t force it.

3.  A less common error is to discount the loss.  After my dear neighbor lost her husband to a heart attack, another neighbor shrugged and dispensed his philosophy: “Well, we’re all going to die sometime.”  There is a temptation with the loss of a young child to use the fourth grade arithmetic skill of canceling:  “You can always have another child.”  Or with the loss of an agéd parent, “At least she had a long and productive life.”

4.  Those who have experienced the death of a loved one can be tempted to say, “I know just how you feel”.  Don’t do it, even if you are convinced it is true.  Every relationship is unique. 

When I write a note, I often employ the words of wiser and more articulate people.  This post is an attempt to gather together some of those words.

~ She who was so precious to you

We are terribly saddened by the death of your cherished sister, our dear aunt; but our sorrow at losing her is as nothing compared to our concern for your sake, because your suffering will be all the greater, Sire, as truly you have no one else left in your world, now that she, who could not have been more precious to you, has parted, and therefore we can only imagine how you sustain the severity of such a sudden and completely unexpected blow… I will say no more, except that with all our hearts we fervently pray the Lord to comfort you and be with you always, and we greet you dearly with our ardent love.     

           from Galileo’s daughter to Galileo, May 10, 1623.  Quoted in Galileo’s Daughter

~ No words

My favorite story about my father relates to a time when a co-worker lost a child.  My
father went to his friend’s house and sat with him and his wife.  They cried and just sat together.  No words were ever spoken.  Dad just
soaked up some of the excess grief.  This man later told me that my
father’s silent presence was the greatest comfort during that time. Some times we can’t be bodily present; some times I write There are no words.

~ It’s hard

When my dad died, my brother Jim wrote one of the most profound notes to our step-mother.  He wrote one sentence and signed his name.  It is hard to say goodbye

This is what the Puritans called a ‘hard providence‘ is another way to acknowledge the loss. 

~  God support you

God bless you and support you under your heavy affliction.
    written to John Adams by Thomas Jefferson after the death of Abigail Adams

~  I’m sorry

A very simple expression of love and sympathy: I’m sorry for your loss.

~ We’re praying

Another simple sentence which hits the spot: We’re praying for you in this difficult time.

Any suggestions?  I plan to add to this post as I come across other notes.

Write. Think. Learn.

My wonderful sister-in-law alerted me to a Q and A from November 3, 2006 Aspen Institute with David McCullough here.  When I heard these words, I stopped what I was doing and transcribed his spoken words on writing and thinking:

“The old expression of working your thoughts out on paper […]  We’ve all had the experience of sitting down to write a term paper, or an essay, or a report; and in the process of writing we come up with an idea we didn’t know we had. 

And, the mere act of writing focuses the brain in a way nothing else does.  That’s why all courses in college and high school ought to require writing, not just English courses.  Young people ought to be required to write all the time and be judged, be graded, at how well they are expressing themselves.

So when our leaders are not working their thoughts out on paper — that’s a disadvantage for them.  And their words ar so often being provided by other people.  And the words being provided by other people aren’t just the words–it’s the ideas being provided by other people.

It’s thinking! That’s what writing is! That’s why it’s so hard.  It’s thinking.

I don’t know, you have this all the time, people say to me, ‘How much of your time is spent writing and how much of your time is spent doing research?’  Perfectly good question.

Nobody ever says, ‘How much time do you spend thinking?’  And the thinking is often the most important part of it.”

Adapting McCullough’s thoughts and borrowing from Mental Multi-vitamin

Write.  Think.  Learn.

Hot Diggity Do!!

Last week we were sitting around the kitchen table when our mail was delivered.  My youngest son retrieved the bundle, and announced the return addresses as he sorted through the pile.  “WeightWatchers Lost and Found Essay Contest.”  His eyes flitted towards me as my arm snaked out and grabbed the letter.  My blood pressure immediately soared and I tried to calm myself by repeating, “It’s only a ‘Dear John’ letter, it’s only a ‘Dear John’ letter.” 

We are happy to inform you that your essay has been selected as one of the 2nd prize winners.

Two months ago I would have been discouraged that I didn’t win the Grand Prize or one of the five 1st prizes.  Two months ago the winners were to have been announced and my hopes were high.  I recently went online and read the winning entry, which was excellent. After hearing nothing, I had assumed that what I had written wasn’t what the judges wanted, and chalked it up to a learning experience.  Then the letter came: I was dancing, jumping, yelling, singing, telephoning DH, running-around-excited!!  Thank you, Lord!