In the sixties the motto for children was “children should be seen and not heard.” Reinforced by this motto, my mother never gave her children a voice. I can remember the first time I ever tried to give her my opinion. We were shopping for shoes and my mother asked me if I liked the shoes that she was showing to me. I was brave and said no. She went into a rage and tore down the shoe display embarrassing me to no end. I learned then that my opinion did not need to be heard.
I began writing as an outlet for my thoughts. Sometimes I stayed up all night writing the same letter. I would write and rewrite until it was perfect. I wrote letters to the president, to friends, to Donny Osmond and most anyone I had an opinion about. Most of these letters never made it to the mail box.
Somehow I attained a typewriter that wrote cursive. That was it. I was writing all the time. I would document the events going on around me; sometimes I would embellish them just for fun. I was addicted to writing. I didn’t want to communicate any other way. As a matter of fact, I was terrible at the verbal communication. I had no experience in verbalizing where as when I was writing I had wings to soar with the freedom to express what I thought. People who I have written to have always told me that they enjoyed the journey I provided with just a simple letter.
I remember a girlfriend that I had early on who I caught having a letter relationship with her ex. This would probably be the equivalent to today’s online chatting or facebook. I intercepted one of the letters from her ex and decided to have a chat with this “Kathy.”
So I began the letter by introducing myself to her. I told her that my favorite sport was football. I didn’t like watching the game so much, but I loved to play. I went on to tell her that my favorite position was defense and I continued on about how I loved to keep the offense from scoring. Then I said that my favorite defensive move was to intercept. I explained in detail how I would keep my eye on the quarterback and I could tell what their intended target would be even before the ball left their hand. I was very good at this particular aspect of the game. Some would say that I had even perfected it. I explained my record of intercepting at least twice a game. Then I gave her the punch. I let her know that I had intercepted her letter. That I had defended her offense and if she continued to write to my girlfriend I was going to burn her house down. I stayed up all night to perfect this letter.
This is one of those letters that never made it to the mailbox. I confessed to my girlfriend what I had done. I gave her the letter that her ex had written and then I let her read the one I was going to send. She was amazed at how I expressed myself in writing compared to how I spoke. She let me know that I was more intelligent in writing. I wasn’t sure if this was a compliment or not, but I did come to realize that she was right. I expressed myself more freely when I wrote. I came to realize that I never felt safe communicating verbally so I relied on what I call the pen of revenge. I began telling people to be nice to me because I was documenting everything. No one listened.
When they read the book I’m sure they will wish that they had.