Saturday, November 20, 2010

The Story Teller

Children often grow up to be what they thought they were as children.

Jesse Kornbluth
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Roughing it through the days and nights of life there are many trails and detours, dead ends and surprising destinations. Alone against the wind as we all are we have to call upon some fundamental strength and know how. Getting through life is no easy task but millions of people have done it so it happens to be not only a possibility but also an obligation. The foremost duty, of course, is too oneself. It may not be possible to fulfill all the promises of one's childhood, but it usually means that some of the lesser important things must pass into the scrap book of good intentions.

The temptations of life dangle in front of our faces most of the time. And what do we make of them? We may make choices. After careful thought, analysis and hopefully some good guidance, we decide on a plan of action and go staggering forward into some kind of future. But a certain time must come when we finally realize that what we've been doing while we filled up a resume of activities to impress a boss or a family reduces down to a being we always were.

When I was a child we lived near a park. Kids played ball there. Mothers walked their babies, men walked their dogs. In one area of the park there was a wild place with bushes and a small pond. I liked to sit there and dream about things. One day a neighbor boy brought over a strange fern-like thing he had picked somewhere. He showed it to me and asked me if I knew what it was. I didn't know but I pretended I did and made up an identity for it. I even gave it some magical powers. I finally had to tell him I was making it up because he started to believe me. After that he brought his friends and they had me invent stories about twigs, bottles and whatever they could find.

It seemed obvious to some that I was going to be an actor because my family had been in show business. But I had to wade through a morass of alternatives and promises until one day I woke up and realized that acting was what people expected of me and what some of them were paying me to do. So I spent the next 50 years on the stage telling other people's stories. Now I'm retired and I write my own. Bring me a fern and I'll tell you all about it.

DB - The Vagabond
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WEEKEND PUZZLE

You are to finish the following sentence by filling in the blank spaces with whatever words you choose.

Once I had ___________ and I _____________ but ________which was too bad, but _____________ any way, and _________________ at last.

The best sentence wins a prize. The decision of the brain challenged judge is final.

Good Luck
DB
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2 comments:

Bucko (a.k.a., Ken) said...

Story telling is a lost art, thank you for keeping it alive.

pacifica62 said...

It is wonderful to see children enjoying stories of magic and imagination. We all need some of that in our lives. This quote is very interesting. I am trying to remember what I thought I was when I was a child and wonder if I became that person. Perhaps for fleeting moments, but mostly my dream still lies in my heart and in my spirit.