Once Upon a Time……….

    For those of you who follow my writing, you are probably thinking right now that this column is going to be about a childhood book or story, some childish adventure, or maybe some crazy fairytale. But in this particular writing today I am taking a moment or two to look back to a time in life when events and living with those around us were much different to what it may be like today, or at least how it feels.

   Growing up in the 1950s and 60s was not a time in the history of the great American dream without conflict and disagreement. There were conflicts and wars around the world. There were times when not having an adequate paying job or a steady income made life, living, and raising a family difficult.

    There was a great deal of disagreement among many who were in government as they attempted to lead and help to grow and make the American dream come true. But back then, even with all the disagreement, there always seemed to be an understanding and belief that eventually there would be compromise and people would find new ways to understanding each other and come to some levels of agreement, and as a result, the country and the dream would come true, and the American democracy would become a model for others around the world.

  Those days of the 1950s and 60s are now well in the past and while some of the memories of those days are still clear in my aging memory, I am having a difficult time understanding what we did not learn back in the day, or have forgotten, that might have helped us avoid where we are today. The conflict, disagreements, and everyday anger we see plastered over the news is at a frightening level and as a father and grandfather, I worry about its impact and effect on the future lives of the next generations. What have we done wrong? What have we overlooked? What have we forgotten?

   If you have followed any of some of my earlier postings, you may remember that often I refer to the “baby boomer” generation, the generation for which I am a part. But one only needs to read the obituary pages of the local papers to discover that many of the names on those pages were members of the “boomers,” and that their life experiences, memories, and learnings of that time are becoming fewer in number.

   The history and growth of our country does read like a book, a “once upon a time  story book”, where each and every person plays a part in its growth and development. Looking back, there have been a number of opportunities where lessons could have been learned, but recently, in some cases, it appears as though those lessons were either overlooked or forgotten and we currently struggle with what appears to be a time of distrust  and dislike for anything or anyone that does not agree with our individual opinions and beliefs.

   With a generation that is becoming fewer in number each year, those “once upon a time” opportunities are becoming fewer in number and I realize that the next generation will step up and have its own remembrance and memories  upon which  to build and pass along to the future. But I sincerely hope that as time passes, the ability to share differing opinions, ideas and thoughts is restored in a way that allows for healthy growth and dialogue between friends, neighbors, and the community. From differing ideas and beliefs and the ability to listen and share can come a world rich in understanding and positive growth.

   So for today and maybe tomorrow, I encourage each reading this to take a moment, sit down with a pencil and paper (remember pencils) and begin….”Once upon a time …….”

 

In 500 Words or Less…

    I was recently asked how and why I started to write and I will admit that it did not come easily.  And why did I select the title of 500 Words or Less, especially since most of my work extends well beyond the five-hundred-word limit.

    The  number 500 echoes in my mind from the  many days and years in school, some sixty or more or years ago now. In the Dark Ages, as my grandchildren often refer to them, I did not truly understand why we were told the essays in English class could be no longer than five hundred words. Sometimes what I had to say was so important it would require more than five hundred words. But in keeping with the assignments and the teacher’s directions, we dutifully would sit there and count the number of words on the paper. And if we were over five hundred words, if we went over the mark, that was where we would have to stop, even if it meant stopping in the middle of a sentence.

    Truthfully, sometimes I thought my summer vacations, a topic we seem to write about endlessly year after year when returning to school in the Fall, was so exciting that it required more than five hundred words. And then there was David, who often  sat next to me  in class. He would write about his sister with her head hanging over the toilet for hours because of the flu.  Certainly that was worth more than 750 words, although she didn't think so.

   What would I do if I became president was another popular subject, especially in election years. The title alone contained eight words. Jason, the class comedian, always managed to fall well below the maximum   number of words for his essays on this topic. What would he write? His essays always consisted of just one word.” NOTHING.” By the way, he was recently elected to the state legislature a few years ago in New Jersey.

   Once I became a teacher. I understood why teachers often limited the length of the essays. One teacher, twenty-five students per class and six classes created an enormous amount of reading and correcting. And if we expected to get the assignments back to the students with a grade back during the semester, it was important to work within the limits.

   The sophomore year in high school was a turning point for many of us. Our English teacher’s  name was Mr. Furst told us that if we could not get our point across in five hundred words or less, it probably wasn't worth saying or writing. (We always ask him how his last name could be Furst.? He would explain it to us  while we spent time in detention after school for making fun of his name.) The one lesson I think most learned from his class was to be concise and get to the point. No rambling. We became believers. Even today, I often believe that sometimes the  less said the better, whether it be in a written document or a public speech.

   Although on occasion I stray from the lessons taught by Mr. First, I still make every attempt to limit the length and to improve the quality of the message. Using vocabulary, words,  that creates pictures in the mind can be very effective. Often the best pictures are not really pictures but are words we put together to tell the story.

   I have been writing  for many years now.  My attempt with my weekly columns over time has been to share a variety of topics and events, and maybe even help you recall some of your own memories and experiences. While my goal back 10^th grade  was to accomplish story telling  within the limit of five hundred words back in the days of English class, I have found over time that it is often much more difficult to limit the number of words, often because there is too much to say.

    Now, in case there are any questions, you will not see me sitting with paper and pencil counting each word on the page. The computer does that for me now. Life sometimes seems so much easier today. By the way…what’s a pencil?