Sal Towse is a _REAL_ genius
Ejucaided Redneck
tremendous impact on me about forty five years ago. For about fifteen
years I've actively hunted the woman to tell her so, to utterly no avail
until today. Towse directed me towards a library half a continent away
from where I knew the lady, from which she'd retired. A few minutes ago
someone called with her address and phone number, and I just spoke to
her for about half an hour, and in a little while I'll write her a long
letter.
I am so pleased to have been able to talk to this woman again and let
her know she made a serious and significant difference to me.
(Original post, the one that put Towse on the trail follows)
*****
If I ever get a book into print, I will thank a slew of people.
Including a librarian, if I can ever find her name.
At fourteen I was a snarly fuck-up of a kid whose family, part of the
hillbilly diaspora, had relocated to a wretched Indiana factory town. A
"head librarian" of one of those old Carnegie buildings --still
standing, it's currently undergoing a multi-million dollar renovation--
was one of the few people I liked, and who seemed to like me.
When I began skipping school she let me hide out in the basement, where
the microfilm viewer and thousands of pages of old newspapers fed what
has continued to be an intense interest in history, "real" history, not
the crap they put in textbooks or the partisan demagoguery too many
people call "news."
She let me take my kiddy card into the "adult" section and check out
anything I wanted, and when I brought the books back we'd talk about
them. She turned me on to MacKinlay Cantor --this was when the unCivil
War Centennial was a big item-- and helped me figure out why a best
selling historian wasn't necessarily a good one. She turned me on to
volumes of Mark Twain I didn't know existed, then pointed me into the
biography section where I got lost for a few months.
She even had a local television show, on a UHF station probably no more
than a dozen people at a time watched, and interviewed me on there half
a dozen times over the course of a few years.
She listened when I talked about wanting to be "a writer," and read some
of my very early scribblings.
A couple years ago when my writing started to have some minimal success,
I began trying to find her. To me she was unforgettable: she was a nice
looking woman with a very short haircut in a place most "grown up" women
of my acquaintance still wore their hair long, another immigrant from
the deep south with a thick Georgia accent that was comforting amidst
the nasty nasal pronouncements of native Hoosiers, a "town personality,"
what with those TV shows and all.
Nobody up there remembers her. I've corresponded with retired
librarians, with women my age who had high school jobs at the library,
with any number of people and not a soul seems to recall this lady who
looms so large in my own memories.
I don't even know what age bracket she might fit into. Anybody older
than 25 in those days was "old," and she could have been anything from a
new college grad when I knew her to an "elderly" mid-forties.
There's a good chance she's dead, if she was that old, a good chance
she's still alive if she was younger.
Every now and then I try one more time to find her, or what happened to
her. I think she'd like to know one of the voices that shows up now and
then on "Morning Edition" pretty much got over being a pissed-off kid.
I think she'd like to know her encouragement of me-as-writer culminated
in the Faulkner Medal of a couple years ago.
Maybe someday she will.
*****
And now she does...
Thank you, Towse, thank you thank you thank you.
--
New stories, new essays, new pages:
http://bobsloan.home.mindspring.com/
Gene Royer
"Ejucaided Redneck" <briarh...@yall.com> wrote in message
news:3CCD96E6...@yall.com...
> A while ago I posted something in here about a librarian who made a
> tremendous impact on me about forty five years ago. For about fifteen
> years I've actively hunted the woman to tell her so, to utterly no avail
> until today. Towse directed me towards a library half a continent away
> from where I knew the lady, from which she'd retired. A few minutes ago
> someone called with her address and phone number, and I just spoke to
> her for about half an hour, and in a little while I'll write her a long
> letter.
>
> I am so pleased to have been able to talk to this woman again and let
> her know she made a serious and significant difference to me.
This is a great story, Bob. And, of course, because of the header, I HAD to
read it. I'm glad I did. I would have listened to it also, even if it were
on NPR.
--Geno
Towse
Ejucaided Redneck wrote:
>
> A while ago I posted something in here about a librarian who made a
> tremendous impact on me about forty five years ago. For about fifteen
> years I've actively hunted the woman to tell her so, to utterly no avail
> until today. Towse directed me towards a library half a continent away
> from where I knew the lady, from which she'd retired. A few minutes ago
> someone called with her address and phone number, and I just spoke to
> her for about half an hour, and in a little while I'll write her a long
> letter.
>
> I am so pleased to have been able to talk to this woman again and let
> her know she made a serious and significant difference to me.
The Web's a wonder. I don't know if Bob would've found his mentor
without it.
Back in March I left a note describing Bob's search at the
Carnegie library in Bob's old town. A librarian came across the
request and thought the search worthwhile and interesting.
She tracked down information about a former children's librarian
who seemed to fit Bob's description. She gave me a name this
morning but hadn't been able to find out where the woman was or
whether she was still alive.
A Web search found the woman, who is also a writer, and showed
that she'd retired from a library in NH, but we still didn't know
if it was really Bob's librarian.
I sent Bob the name of the children's librarian at the library
the woman had retired from. When Bob called the children's
librarian, she was able to track down his librarian's phone
number and address.
I am glad Bob found his librarian in time to tell her how his
story is turning out. I'm sure she's wondered over the years.
If there's someone you've been meaning to say, "Thank you." to,
do it.
Say, "Thank you." to a teacher, a scout leader, a librarian, a
crossing guard, some one who's made a difference in your life.
People work at their jobs and live their lives year after year.
They watch kids come and go and help as much as they can while
they are around, but they move on or change jobs or the children
grow up and move away, across the country or the world.
They wonder how you turned out, who you became, whether you
reached the stars you were grasping for.
Make today your thanks giving day and let someone know the
difference they made in your life.
Sal
--
useful links for writers:
<http://www.internet-resources.com/writers/>
Skip Press
and you only make it more so.
In article <3CCD96E6...@yall.com>,
Ejucaided Redneck <briarh...@yall.com> wrote:
--
The writer is the only absolutely indispensable element
in this town, and he must never find out.
-- Irving Thalberg
All the best,
Skip Press, the Duke of URL
Hollywood and Somewhat Important News at
http://home.earthlink.net/~skippress/
Ejucaided Redneck
evening.
Wow whee.
--
They have one gift that modern speech
has largely lost, the ability to make phrases
and even words fit the needs of the occasion;
to express the fresh thought or feeling while
it is fluttering over their minds. Their speech
is still fluid. It is not yet congealed and fossilized
into grammar. --James Watt Raine, speaking of
Appalachia
Don May
<briarh...@yall.com> wrote:
>Sat down and wrote the lady a three page --single spaced-- letter this
>evening.
>
>Wow whee.
>
Taking Bobs wonderful inspiration and Sal's good advice I
went on the web and searched out my high school gym coach.
The first hit was an obituary for a man by exactly the same
name in the city I was sure he still lived in. Was relieved
when I noticed the deceased was only a year older than me,
course I don't like seeing obituaries of folks about the
same age as me.
I sent off an e-mail to the next person that seemed to
match. In only a couple of hours a reply came. "You found
me." This from a teacher who in the mid fifties took a
little runt of a kid under his wing, one who failed
miserably at team sports and was never chosen for any team.
I was always the last chosen and that does not constitute a
choice when all must be chosen. I was a short small kid but
fearless when it came to heights, but that was not a
particularly good nor required attribute for basketball
which at the time was about the only team sport in most
small North Louisiana schools.
Newly graduated from college and filled with enthusiasm this
young coach had an interest in starting a Gymnastics team
something unheard of in north Louisiana high schools. He saw
in me something I didn't know I had. For the next two years
he patiently coached me until I went on to take first place
in Louisiana for tumbling, trampoline and free exercise.
My senior year started. Coming from a large low income
family the prospect of going on to college was slim. Coach
J, I will call him, had different plans, that was to see me
go on to Louisiana Northwestern State which had the best
Gymnastics team in the mi-south. During the summer months he
was superintendent of Swimming pools in a nearby large city.
His plan was to give me work as a life guard and swimming
instructor to finance my school costs . . . problem was I
could barely dog paddle across my small swimming hole filled
with sapping turtles and water snakes. Not to be deterred
Coach J sent me off to the YMCA in nearby Shreveport to take
swimming lessons . . . seems I had to learn to swim before I
could take Red Cross Life Guard and swimming instructor
classes. Nine months later I passed the required courses
just in time to take my place on the lifeguard stand a few
days after graduation from high school and a bit dazed from
going from being a country boy dog paddling in a snake
infested bayou to sitting on a life guard stand in the big
city.
During the middle of the third summer I couldn't find the
courage to tell Coach J why I was leaving for California. I
had over heard folks saying the only thing in California was
"fruits and nuts" and was convinced my only salvation was to
go there. I was near the point many gay teen gays go through
. . . looking for a way to come out or take my own life.
I've always felt bad for not letting him know how much he
contributed to my life at the time. When you are young and
wrapped up in your personal problems you don't see clearly
enough to appreciate what some teachers have done for you.
I wrote back and told Coach J how much I appreciated what he
did for me. Now I'm looking for the strength to write again
and tell him the real reason I abandoned his dreams.
Don
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim.
Accept no one's definition of your life, but define yourself."
- Harvey Fierstein
Kurt Ullman
wrote:
>I wrote back and told Coach J how much I appreciated what he
>did for me. Now I'm looking for the strength to write again
>and tell him the real reason I abandoned his dreams.
>
Becasue you had to follow your own? Hardly seems from your description
that he would begrudge that. Probably take pride in his small piece of giving
you the confidence in yourself to actually do it.
Don
>
>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
>"Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim.
>Accept no one's definition of your life, but define yourself."
>- Harvey Fierstein
Listen to Harv in this case, okay???
Kurt (Maybe I should change my name to Dr. Phil Landers) Ullman
----------------------------------
This mail is a natural product. The slight variations in spelling and
grammar enhance its individual character and beauty and in no way are to
be considered flaws or defects.
Artisan
>If there's someone you've been meaning to say, "Thank you." to,
>do it.
My cranky old aunt, Bessie Bullough, retired from a lifetime of teaching
in Castleford (Yorkshire) and became a virtual recluse (along with her
cats) and eventually was diagnosed with cancer when in her seventies.
The taxi driver who took her to the hospital for one of her chemo
sessions turned out to be an ex-pupil, recognised her and told her how
much her teaching of poetry had meant to him. He recited a poem which
she had taught him thirty years previously which was still his favourite
- and as it turned out, also still hers.
She talked about meeting him all the way through her treatment and even
on her death-bed. She knew she was a good teacher (even received an MBE
for pioneering work teaching drama and movement to under 11s) but having
this late confirmation that her work had had a lasting effect was just
what she needed.
I'm so pleased she met that taxi driver.
Jacey
--
Jacey Bedford Art...@artisan-harmony.com
ARTISAN www.artisan-harmony.com
"Artisan - cheaper than therapy and better than beer." Rural Arts East
Don May
Ullman) wrote:
>In article <j16tcukbj87tqn466...@4ax.com>, don...@attbi.com
>wrote:
>
>>I wrote back and told Coach J how much I appreciated what he
>>did for me. Now I'm looking for the strength to write again
>>and tell him the real reason I abandoned his dreams.
>>
> Becasue you had to follow your own? Hardly seems from your description
>that he would begrudge that. Probably take pride in his small piece of giving
>you the confidence in yourself to actually do it.
>
Thanks for the reminder. Yes I had to follow my own dream. I
have to give myself credit for having had the strength to
leave societal conditions that made it near impossible to
find it closer to home. I had to choose not to succumb to a
life of lies or end my life. Still too many kids don't make
it past that point.
>Don
>>
>>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
>>"Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim.
>>Accept no one's definition of your life, but define yourself."
>>- Harvey Fierstein
>
> Listen to Harv in this case, okay???
okay
Don
>
>Kurt (Maybe I should change my name to Dr. Phil Landers) Ullman
>
Count on a good review from me . . . well . . . if you don't
call me a mistake of nature . . .
>----------------------------------
>This mail is a natural product. The slight variations in spelling and
>grammar enhance its individual character and beauty and in no way are to
>be considered flaws or defects.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris McLaughlin
> Now I'm looking for the strength to write again
> and tell him the real reason I abandoned his dreams.
Thanks for this lovely story, Don, on top of Bob's.
But I don't think anyone has a right to be disappointed (for long)
when someone else abandons a dream not his own. A teacher's real
success is in seeing the student grow and feeling he had something to
do with it, whatever shape it takes.
Give him a try. He'd probably understand this. You think this is the
only time a coach interested in gymnastics encountered a gay guy?<g>
Chris.tine
Hippolyte Lizard
>
> If there's someone you've been meaning to say, "Thank you." to,
> do it.
My high school jazz band leader was featured in the East Bay Express and
a friend dropped me a copy. I decided to write him a letter and found
him easily enough by calling the jazz school he'd founded. He was very
glad to hear from me -- couldn't believe it had been twenty years.
Quite out of the blue he sent me the CD an old friend and bandmate had
just cut. After two decades of playing in various Bay Area bands Robbie
finally started his own and is out there giving Asian-Latin jazz a
whirl. He and I came up together and I talked him into joining the jazz
band, but it appears his road was clearer than mine. Anyway, Phil (the
teacher) wrote a very nice letter and then died a month or two later.
The performance hall at Berkeley's new Jazzschool is dedicated to him.
I seem to have misplaced the letter.
HL
(My found-by-internet stories are mostly about old classmates and
genealogy -- not very interesting.)
Dick Harper
> Make today your thanks giving day and let someone know the
> difference they made in your life.
Amen.
Anne, our daughter Kris, and I spent enough time with my mom
before she died not only to get it all said but to come somewhat
to terms with the inevitable. It is far better to visit the living
than to go to a funeral.
--Dick
Scott OQ Elyard
Or, as a friend of mine put it, "I'd rather attend a birthday rather
than attend a funeral."
Therefore I'll be gone 4 May-12 May, to visit the folks in AK.
And Dick? Take care. And good luck. Here's hoping for a couple of
speedy recoveries...