I read the comics in The Seattle Times every day. I usually read Luann, Betty, and Between Friends to name a few. I was drawn to Crankshaft on Monday, April 24, 2017. The comic did not focus on Crankshaft. The focus was on Crankshaft’s next door neighbor, Lillian McKenzie. I read all week. It concluded on Saturday, April 29, 2017 with the following:
http://comicskingdom.com/crankshaft/2017-04-28 for my highlights from Crankshaft
this week.
Last evening, I noticed a familiar figure down the block. It was Karin, who is a business owner and entrepreneur with a heart for others. We talked and talked and talked as we walked to her car. The last thing mentioned was about me writing a book.
I contemplated writing a book as I walked home. I made my way home and walked through my apartment door. The thought was still with me. I had readied for bed. The thought was still with me. I lit a candle, and I sat down and stared into the flame. I reflected.
I first met Cathy Walker, who was a close childhood friend and Edgewood Park neighbor, in Miss Hammer’s third grade at Washington Center Elementary School. I shared with Cathy that I wanted to be an author in the fifth grade. (I also wanted to attend clown school but I wasn’t sure about how to drive the car.)
I shared with my Aunt Judy and Cousin Amy that I begun writing this book last summer. Here is the working Preface:
Preface
“Even then, more than a year earlier, there were neurons
in her head, not far from her ears, that were being strangled to death, too quietly for her
to hear them. Some would argue that things were going so insidiously wrong that the neurons themselves
initiated events that would lead to their own destruction. Whether it was
molecular murder or cellular suicide, they were unable to warn her of what was
happening before they died. From Still Alice by Lisa Genova.
I was shopping on a rainy Seattle evening at my local Quality Food Center. My usual path after making my purchases was to stop by the magazine rack and thumb through the Star magazine. I read my horoscope because my Grandma Ruby Kirby would buy the weekly Star tabloid to me in junior high and in high school.
I was shopping on a rainy Seattle evening at my local Quality Food Center. My usual path after making my purchases was to stop by the magazine rack and thumb through the Star magazine. I read my horoscope because my Grandma Ruby Kirby would buy the weekly Star tabloid to me in junior high and in high school.
One this particular evening, I read the
horoscope and smiled. I then took pause at the book rack as one cover caught my
eye. It was Still Alice by Lisa Genova. An endorsement by USA Today was on the cover: A poignant portrait of Alzheimer’s…Not a book you will forget.
Maybe I do want to forget. I work in a
continuing care retirement community and spend time with residents, who have dementia, but mostly my Grandma has
dementia. Do I want to pick up a fictional book about my nonfictional work and
life? I watch residents daily in the decline that could not be stopped no matter how their families looked for that
pill...a photograph that possibly would jog a memory…that memory game.
Nor could my Grandma’s decline be slowed.
I picked up the book, and I read the words beginning with Even then…and ending with…they were unable to warn her of what was
happening before they died. I closed the book. I made one more purchase before leaving the QFC.
I read Still Alice in two evenings.
Look through my eyes...is not Still Alice. It is the story of my Grandma. Even though many of the stories are true, it is a fictional story. I wondered what she remembered when she could no
longer verbalize her thoughts. I am filling in Grandma’s thoughts. I am giving her words. Maybe
the words were her own. Or maybe out of my hope she had thoughts and words that
brought her peace and a quality of life that I will never understand. I will always remember the laughter
and love.”
I have written and rewritten the manuscript 5-times. Once the candle burned out and the room became dark, I understood why Look Through my Eyes never seemed right. I wrote it to try to please others, not from my authentic self and how I experienced my Grandma through my memories.
I believe this dream is not suppose to die (yet). One more try to keep the dream alive.
I have written and rewritten the manuscript 5-times. Once the candle burned out and the room became dark, I understood why Look Through my Eyes never seemed right. I wrote it to try to please others, not from my authentic self and how I experienced my Grandma through my memories.
I believe this dream is not suppose to die (yet). One more try to keep the dream alive.
