I like words. Words are interesting and they say words can start wars and even end wars. People who express themselves well are noted as articulate. To be articulate is deemed a very good ingredient in life.
To be capable and credible are other assets we strive for.
When I worked in 1952-1960, the union wanted to come in and unionize the plant. The boss was not too thrilled with their plan. He told me to go out to lunch with them, the administrators of the union, because they requested it.
They saw a young, pretty and seemingly smart girl and he thought maybe I could sway them away for a while and they would get disinterested in their plan for us, since it was a relatively small amount of employees. I told him no, that my Dad said no such thing
could I do and we always listened to our parents in those days. I did not want to anyway; I was actually scared to be in that position. I did not and they eventually lost interest, because it was not a large group of workers.
The boss thought I could talk them out of organizing the plant because I was young and pretty and they would feel they could abide by the wishes of the boss through me. I wanted no part of words and more words to emphasize the owner’s feelings.
When we are capable, knowledgeable and credible, we have a good reputation, if you really care about your reputation. There is a saying I came across. “Be happy yourself, if others don’t like it, then let them be. Happiness is a choice. Life isn’t about pleasing everybody.”
When I was a kid, we kids seemed to want to please our parents; we felt it was our way to keep them loving us. We hardly ever said no to them. We did what they wanted us to do, act the way we were supposed to, never talked back and that is the way we were.
There was a movie with Barbra Streisand called The Way We Were. That is how most of us were. We did not rebel, studied hard, got good marks and always were trying to excel.
Education was important, reading kept you going, spelling was necessary and handwriting was made to be beautiful. We added on paper and learned to add in our heads. We had no gym classes until I was in the seventh grade. We came home for our lunch hour; we walked home the six blocks, ate our lunch and walked back all in one hour. We even made time to stop in the candy store near the school and we would spend the pennies our parents gave us there. We gazed longingly at glass cases filled with gorgeous looking loose candies and bought them by the piece or pieces. They did not weigh them; they were a penny a piece. They also sold sharpened beautiful pencils there and I was a pencil obsessive buyer. I loved the fine and thin points on the presharpened yellow colored ones. Every day, I would buy at least two sharpened pencils with the five pennies Dad would give me at lunchtime. He worked nearby, so he took his lunch hour when mine was and he and I ate lunch together five days a week. I had a collection of worn down pencils and then I had to give them to dad to sharpen with his penknife. OH how I hated those stubby points he made on them with the knife. I threw them in the drawer and went and bought new ones every day. While my classmates were chewing the gum or the loose candies they had bought with their pennies, I was longingly looking to write something with my new bright pencils. I had a very pretty handwriting and somehow the sharp points on those new and pretty pencils were eagerly waiting for my lovely handwriting and using them.
Dad use to say why not buy some sweet candy instead of the pencils. I replied I liked to write and using those new ones made me write prettier and I used better language with them. It was a silly explanation for buying them, but maybe somehow the new ones gave to a little elementary schoolgirl the ambition to write her stories. I use to do book reviews for The Enoch Pratt Free Library, Branch 17 on West North Avenue, and six blocks from my home. This was my first experience of being published as a writer. They would type them up, copy them with a copy machine and lay them out on the counter for the kids to see my reviews of all the new books. When I look back, that was quite cool as the kids say, for me to be doing at age eleven or twelve. They had reading contests there and my reviews would influence the preteens as to their reading matter. Many times, books I had reviewed were so popular; there were waiting lists to take them out for reading.
I wish I had some of those reviews I wrote as a kid.
J. Umbridge, I do not know her in person, just through the comments she has sent me on my Patch articles and in one of them she said, she liked it so much, she was going to give it to her pastor to use for the Thanksgiving sermon on that day. I am honored she would even think to do that and if he does, I will be very proud to have my words delivered to his congregation.
So words are responsive answers to life’s problems and being capable, knowledgeable, flexible and happy using words is a nice vocation, hobby or profession. Words are uniformity of thought and to think good thoughts is certainly a very worthwhile happening.
I heard someone say on television that “you made my day and more so my life.” As one door closes, another one will surely open. Perhaps and most likely, the new door opening will be better. So maybe a little kid of eleven or so living on Westwood Avenue, six blocks from the library learned to love words, because she frequented the library many times a week, even before she wrote the reviews. The library gave her the love of words even at that young age and therefore; she is still using her beloved words at this senior age of seventy-eight and five months. Bravo to words and the reliability they bring into my life every day.