“Sometimes, in the night I feel it
Near as my next breath
and yet, untouchable
Silently the past comes stealing
Like the taste of some forbidden sweet”
From “Ghosts” by Dan Fogelberg
They do talk to me, you know, and if you’re being honest with yourself, they talk to you as well.
The ghosts of our past.
It’s impossible for me to not hear my father speaking to me. I don’t remember the tone of his voice, but I definitely remember his words:
“Give an honest day of work for an honest wage, and always be grateful that you’re able to work, Bill.”
Or my Uncle Mike, once a car salesman in Torrance, California:
“Working retail is an exchange, Bill. The customer gives you money, and in return you give them the best product possible.”
Or my Aunt Lois, who died of heart disease at the age of forty:
“Life is too precious to waste it on half-efforts.”
I remembered those words, and others, when I was a teacher, a warehouseman, a truck driver, and now as a writer. At the end of the day, and under the final analysis, I must answer not only to my lofty standards but theirs as well. They will not allow me to do half-assed work. They expect the best from me. They are watching over my shoulder as I do an article for a client, and they whisper in my ear as I work on a novel possibly no one will ever read.
The payment for it all . . . for all of those long hours . . . for all of those days when we felt unappreciated . . . the payment is in the personal satisfaction derived from knowing we did our best.
Remember that as you go about your day today.
“Down the ancient corridors
And through the gates of time
Run the ghosts of days that we’ve left behind
Down the ancient corridors
And through the gates of time
Run the ghosts of dreams that we left behind”
Pax Vobiscum!
Bill
“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”
Billybuc
Artistry With Words 