Uncle Rufus and Aunt Bertie, with my sister Janice in the background. Picture taken in the late 1950’s or early 1960’s.
If one was to ask a collection of writers what attracts them to the craft, one would probably walk away with with the number of reasons matching the number of people asked. What this means is that writers write for all sorts of reasons, with as many possibilities as one’s creativity can imagine. Most writers are writing for an assortment of reasons, but standing behind all of these reasons, in most cases, is the larger explanation of feeling that the writer is harnessing a unique voice that it is absolutely essential that the World read. At least this is what most writers who are worth their salt,at some level of priority, believe.
As writers, we can put books out, but we still don’t know that our conviction that we have something meaningful to write means that we will find matching readers loyal to the idea that what we have written is worthy to be read. As a writer, I am personally often left with mystery, mainly because a lot of people do not read, and even for the ones who go as far as purchasing my book, it is rare for them to give me some kind of feedback. A very few have written reviews, but I am of the mindset that although I am certainly curious, that in most cases, it is not wise to openly ask purchasers of my book what they think about it. I have said “in most cases,” because there are exceptional circumstances, due to the nature of a particular relationship, where I feel it is kosher to ask.
Such is the quality of my relationship with Mrs. Jane Ledwell-Gant. I do not know a whole lot about Jane, but with what little I’ve gathered, she is a literary-minded soul. As a Ledwell, I have always suspected that Jane was somehow tied to my great aunt, Mrs. Florence Chrisco Ledwell Staley. I wasn’t sure how, but recently I asked Jane, who confirmed my suspicions. Jane told me that her father, Mr. Warren Ledwell, was first cousin to Mr. Oliver Ledwell and Mrs. Bertie Ledwell-Chrisco. It seems my great aunt, with the maiden name of Florence Chrisco married Jane’s second cousin, Oliver. My great uncle Rufus, also married Jane’s second cousin, Bertie. It really amounted to a sister and a brother, Oliver and Bertie Ledwell, marrying a sister and a brother, Florence and Rufus Chrisco. Prior to asking Jane, I had not been aware that my Aunt Bertie was Oliver’s sister and the first cousin of Jane’s father.
Despite Jane’s connection to my great aunts and uncle, I was curious as to what she thought of my book, Reality’s Pen: Reflections On Family, History & Culture, and point-blank, asked her. I think the way that I worded the question, was, “Of all of the stories in my book, what story, or stories, appealed to you the most, and why?” In back of my question, there is this canvas of my book laid out on my mind. I think of the stories within it, in various ways, perhaps with differing layers of importance, though everything written is of relative importance. I had no idea what Jane would say.
In response, she stated, “Your Uncle Rufus and Aunt Bertie. When I was little, they used to babysit me. I was very fond of them. But, after high school, I moved away to New Jersey, losing track of them, and I never knew what happened. When I read the story in your book about them, I was able to fill in the puzzle, and knowing their eventual outcome, made me feel good.”
As I took in Jane’s words, I was simply astounded. I had talked about Uncle Rufus and Aunt Bertie as older people in my book, who did not have children. My mother decided to pick up the slack, and went out of her way to care for them, as they got feeble with old age. It was just who Momma was. Jane was referring to this story about them, in what she reported. I was surprised at Jane’s account primarily because, never in a million years, would I have been prescient enough beforehand to know that this simple story from my book would make the impression upon a reader that it obviously did upon Jane. There’s just no way I could have known that ahead of time. Jane’s simple review was reinforcement for me as a writer, in that everything that we choose to put down on paper may eventually mean the World to some unknown, future reader. This is something we all need to remember. It made me reflect, with pride, on the awesome power and responsibility that comes with practicing this craft. Writing is often its own reward.
