Writer’s Envy…and Delight

I wriggled an invite to the A-Town Rotary Club meeting this afternoon, mainly to hear USA Today columnist Craig Wilson speak. Wilson has roots in these parts, and he stays in touch with various friends, family members and classmates. One of these people convinced him to combine a Rotary speech with a hometown visit, and this is the week it worked out. As it happens, he’s here for his mother’s 90th birthday, which he wrote about in yesterday's paper.

I don’t normally pick up USA Today, but I had read Wilson’s work a few years ago in a collection of his columns called It’s the Little Things. I found his writing engaging and honest and funny…and challenging, in a “How does he do that?” kind of way. The way a Little Leaguer admires a New York Yankee or the way a beginning instrumentalist stands in awe of an orchestral musician. No, that’s not quite the right analogy. It’s the way someone somewhat practiced in a skill admires a master of it. I think you have to have actually tried something for a little while—beyond the beginner stage—before you can fully appreciate how difficult it is to get to a professional level of performance. And after you’ve been at it several years, and you’ve really, really tried to get good, you begin to truly respect the talent component. Effort will take you far, but talent, at the highest levels of accomplishment, is indispensible.

I like to write. I’ve always liked to write, as long as I can remember. (I got a perfect score on a state writing test in the fifth grade. Doesn’t that count for something? Please???) I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had to write professionally. I was a writer/editor for my alma mater for almost a dozen years. And even now, even though my “day job” is now largely administrative, I do have duties that allow me to express myself in writing for the good of my organization and—oh, heck—the world! (I think my workplace is pretty important—life-changing, even.)

BUT! I don’t get to write my life story for a living…at least, not yet. Hearing Craig Wilson read from his book, a hilarious, heartfelt tale of trick-or-treating with his next-door neighbor Patty Miller, I found myself fighting back tears. At first, I was crying from the effort of restraining my laughter. I didn’t feel I should guffaw as a guest among the Rotarians. Then, as I made my way to my car after the speech, I got choked up by the beauty of what I had just witnessed: an ordinary person, with an ordinary background, weaving extraordinarily rich stories of the beauty and hilarity of life. I felt a pang of jealousy, but mostly a surge of gratitude for the Simple Gifts…the Little Things.

Random, unrelated YouTube referral, courtesy of Auntie Jean—a funky remix of Lionel Ritchie’s “Hello” for us ’80s kids: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBe6Os55ceM