After my Grammy's funeral, we all family came back to this house. The first thing I did was look at her books. I've always thought looking at someone's book collection was the best way to get to know them and the Street family has always been hard to get to know.
It didn't take long for me to find these two shelves dedicated to books on how to write fiction. When I asked, my dad told me his mom had always wanted to write. I knew she'd had Masters degrees in English and Library Science, I knew she'd subscribed to Atlantic Monthly and Harpers, but I never had any inkling she'd wanted to be a writer.
When I found this out it made me sad that I hadn't been able to share this connection between us. It made me think she must have been proud of me for setting out where she hadn't and it made me wish I'd sent her my first published story. One of her favorite authors was Robertson Davies. I've never read him, but I will now.
Love this sentiment. And loved that you extracted a positive out of the situation i.e that she would have been proud of you for your aspirations. And she would.
ReplyDeleteAbout to read rest of blog...hope you're doing well.
Ed.
Thanks, brotha. Hope you're well. I'm getting the phones hooked up here and when I do I'll give you a ring. The Skype seems pointless because my computer's volume is so bad. Love to Noah and Em.
ReplyDeleteA.
That is a fucking rad notion and great post, its so weird when you connect with the hidden lives of your famiy members, that they were real people beside their relationship to you. Isnt Robertson Davies Canadian?
ReplyDeletethanks, mang. canadian? nah, you're making that up. c'mon. (i just wikipedia'd it- you're right, "canada's most notable man of letters")
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