One of my freelance writing customers here in Olympia is a garden center. Three times each week I do a blog posting for them, and this past week I made mention of the kids’ section of the store where there are gardening tools for children, and how those items would make great Christmas gifts.
I love that section of the store because I love what it stands for: parents sharing with their children the love of gardening. I look at that section and I imagine a mother out in the garden with her five-year old, telling the small child that soil is a living thing, and how, from that soil, other living things will grow, and how it is all the grand circle of life, cue the Lion King music.
And many of those young children will grow up loving gardening and urban farming because that love was passed down from their parents.
I love that stuff! I seriously get misty-eyed when I think about it.
And then I think of Sam and Delores Conrad, next-door neighbors of mine when I was a five-year old, them both being in their nineties at that time, and them taking the time to tell me stories of their trip out west in a wagon, back in the 1860’s, and how those stories came alive for me, the wonders of storytelling, man, the passing of history down from generation to generation, just as it has always been done since the first walker on this earth told his son, or daughter, tales of brave Ulysses, and lost souls crossing the River Styx.
And I felt then what I feel now, a sense of pride, to be a part of the storytelling tradition. It’s a small thing, really, in the grand scheme of things, this storytelling gig, when you think about world events, it really doesn’t match up with the Emancipation Proclamation or the Bill of Rights . . .
Or does it?
Just random musings from an old man.
If you are so inclined, have a Happy Thanksgiving!
Hugs, thanks, and love to you all!
Bill
“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”
Billybuc
Artistry With Words 