To Write Or Not To Write?

I enjoyed writing my recent posts about Cousin Wilson, it was a delight to see him and meet his wife Sharon, and my memories of the Great Hog Pen Shootout and my other visits to Uncle Caskie’s truly are among the fondest memories of my childhood. I didn’t have much of a sense of family when growing up and the sense I did have primarily came from Uncle Caskie’s family on my Dad’s side and my great-great Aunt Martha on my Mom’s side.

Yet, as I reflect on my family’s daytrips to Uncle Caskie’s I have to acknowledge the fact that my child’s perspective was not my mother’s perspective. While my mother did not ever share her thoughts about these visits with me, I can imagine how she must have approached them; at first there was likely anticipation of the best kind, then there must have been fear mixed with hope, then there was likely just raw fear.

When I began my blogs I determined not to use them cathartically, there is too much of that in our society. We may not confess our sins and fears to God anymore but since we have an innate need to confess them and obtain absolution from someone, and to cast our burdens on someone, we now have Oprah and Doctor Phil and other high priestesses and priests along with Facebook and Twitter. The National Enquirer has incarnated itself in America.

This is where the dilemma of whether to write or not to write arises, on the one hand I think I should write about my Mom and Dad and these trips to Uncle Caskie’s, on the other hand I don’t want my motivation to be cathartic; yet if I do write it will most certainly be cathartic – it cannot help itself – writing does that.

There is another aspect to the dilemma and that is family, while I don’t know if any family members read my blogs, the reason Wilson and I reconnected is that his sister-in-law read a piece on my old website about Uncle Caskie – so I know that if I write about my mother’s perspective on these visits that there is the possibility that family members will at some point read what I write and misconstrue what I write and possibly take outright offense.

However, looking at things from my mother’s point-of-view is a reminder to me that children and young people usually have no idea of the big picture, and that as adults we often fail to appreciate the fact that our own view of life can be pretty limited – I think this is a useful exercise in writing; cathartic? No doubt; but hopefully helpful to others and a reminder to us all that we all need redemption.

Another reason to write is that the first time I saw terror on another person’s face was as a child returning from Uncle Caskie’s – how many years has it been since then, maybe fifty? Fifty years have passed and I still see the face of that wife and mother on Connecticut Avenue in Chevy Chase, MD; but I am getting ahead of myself.

I’ve got to ask you to indulge me as I cover some more preliminaries: I have always loved my Dad, I’m sure that’s true. I’ve been angry with him, I’ve disappointed him, he’s disappointed me, I’ve feared him, he has embarrassed me, I’ve embarrassed him, he has messed up and I’ve messed up – I’d say my Dad and I are about even in terms of bad decisions. My Dad taught me a great work ethic, he taught me some other things I’ve tried to forget, but the work ethic has been a great inheritance. I’ve taught people some things I hope they’ll forget – so again I think Dad and I are even.

The neat thing about Dad and me is that during his last few years we had a decent relationship, far better than I could have imagined it at one point in life. The other neat thing is that Dad came to know Jesus during his last months – it was a miracle in many ways.

But now back to Uncle Caskie’s…

To be continued…