I was born into a world of words, a cacophony of languages and sounds, as I was formed. My mother and father were students and teachers. My mother was a major in Linguistics at college while she and my father created me. As I grew, I knew that there was much to learn and the need to look for the meaning in that which was left unsaid. From childhood until now, I cry at the lyrics of a sad song.
My life and deepest emotions have been formed by the greatest writers of the last half century. Songwriters, authors, politicians and playwrights filled my earliest memories with life-changing authority, creativity, and kindness.
Yearly, I have been reminded that Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream and it was ended in violence on my birthday. Each year is a reminder of good versus evil, the dreamers who dared to see beyond the shades of black and white, and the need to express your truth for positive change.
My AM transistor radio shared space on my bed with my homework. The lyrics of James Taylor, Carole King, Paul McCartney and John Lennon, Joni Mitchell, and the Bee Gees played poetry in the confines of my room and my mind.
Music has always been so important to me as I reached for the lyrics of meaning, hearing them with my head and my heart, and seeds of empathy were created. Before I even knew what the ideas and social commentary meant, I sang of my journey that would take me to the jet plane that I was leaving on. I did not know how to love him and prayed, day by day, to understand more clearly. The lesson was that no matter how difficult the times, I would always have a friend, and come running, as fast as I could, to someone who needed me too.
At the age of 10, I practiced writing the lyrics to “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” by Elton John until I could sing it by heart. In Junior High, I struggled against the taunts of classmates while I read Ray Bradbury’s “Summer All in a Day.” To this day, I feel for that dear Margot yearning to see the sunlight and feel the ray of warmth against her skin. I understood what it felt like to be the sensitive girl, seemingly on another planet, with her heart on her sleeve and desire to make others understand that which they could not see or feel. I recall the sting of others’ cruelty and excuse to exclude while they had their day in the Sun.
Each day, I must use my words to comfort someone else or help them to feel that they need not face the dark alone. I write because I was born into a world of words, and there was no other choice, but to try to accept the challenge and capture their power. If my words could ease someone’s pain or give a ray of hope, then it was what I was meant to do.
So many years have passed and I can still feel the renewed spirit of the self when the Sun escapes from the dark clouds, piercing the cold winter’s air, and shares its dreams of a more peaceful and optimistic time.
Thank you so much for stopping by! It means more than you know.