I think about my Daughter!

Yes, I think about her often, sometimes two or three times a day. Oh, some memory from her eight-year-old birthday. I am smiling, and laughing, and crying. Not just eight, but many, many memories over 28 years, nine months, two weeks, and seventeen hours. She is present every day, not in person, but sometimes, like today, she calls mom and dad, and I tell her how close we are, and how I regret her high school years when I was aloof. She says nothing, We all talk about her grandpa, who will be 88 in July, how he is actually talking with her about moving from his acre with house, machine shop, amateur radio room, But, I think to myself, “My dad will never move!” My daughter cannot visit us because the only trip she could make was to my dad’s house, and he needed her. Everyone but dad id dead: my mom, my stepmom, my stepdad, my wife’s dad, and her mom. Everyone but dad is dead, and even my dad’s dog Julie baby is gone at 14-years of age. My daughter took care of dad for one week, and she’s a great caregiver, but all any of us can do for dad is stay one week because we just sit, and I do not mean meditation. Yet, what’s to say? I love my dad, and I love my daughter, without my wife who I love in ways only the two of will ever know, nothing would be possible.

My daughter is with me everywhere, and I love her. I think about how she’s grown into a strong and brilliant woman. I think about her tact and understanding. As in AA more will be revealed. She was a runner-up for the prestigious Penn Award in London, for her MFA thesis, an MFA with better than 4.0 GPA, a translation of a Japanese novel, a woman’s novel. I cannot remember the title or the author. I am mystified by my daughter’s command of Japanese, as she teaches herself Korean, has had some grasp of Spanish. She knows many of the poets I studied in my MFA, and she knows some of my wife’s MA in anthropology studies as my wife studied culture. What better way to study Asian culture but live in Japan for four years. She is excited by the rigor of the Ph.D. in Japanese literature and comp. lit. She’s at the end of her first year of a six-year program with excellent results and will continue to study classical Japanese on her own because she doesn’t quite have a grasp yet. She publishes translations, her own essays, and delivers papers at professional meetings, some of which I have done, but not like her, some of which momma did, but not like her. We believe in this; children should climb from parent’s shoulders, not their bootstraps. She is reaching for the stars and dear daughter, with tears in my eyes, knowledge of what this all takes, I pray you find your star, and that you know God.

My dearest only child is gifted and copes with the hereditary tumors from me, with some influence from mom. Mom and I are northern European, and some folk like me get vascular tumors. The family calls them blue-bumps, and some call them Hemangiomas. I have had three bothersome tumors removed. Her’s are serious, She had five removed from her alimentary canal when she was 14; these were life-threatening.  One tumor, the most serious in all the family nearly destroyed her walking–two surgeries at six months and two years with no success and this covering the bottom of her left foot, and she’s told by the University Hospitals and Clinics, there is nothing can be done with the five non-cancerous tumors she has under her skin. She buys the best athletic shoes she can find. We pray she won’t have to have another surgery. But, my daughter succeeds. She does yoga and she’s good, knows the need of her meditation for her body, as I know the need for meditation with my arthritis of the spine. She may be a carrier of the genes I have for Ankylosing Spondylitis, rheumatoid arthritis of the spine. This, however, it does not affect women. She’s told in genetic counseling never to have children so her immortality will be found in her writings, her translations, and hopefully her academic authenticity, and maybe in finding God. I think of her nearly every day, for she is the real reason, she, her mother, and God, that I have remained sober. Finally, I see that eleven-year-old child running into my arms with sobs, “Oh, daddy, quit smoking.” and I did, not at once, but the next year on her birthday.

Published by elgwyn

I was a University and college writing teacher, now retired, so I write poetry, and essays, mostly free verse poetry. I love writing. Computers, tablets, and smart phones are the norm. When one sees university campuses with students looking at phones while walking to class, one realizes writing can be blogging. I am an ordinary man writing for artistic pleasure writing, and simple taste-- blogs are an answer to high priced self-publishing. Walt Whitman had to print his paper books himself, because in 1855, and 1860 poetry did not sell. It does not sell now unless you have a Pulitzer Prize and even then the poet usually makes a living in other ways than writing. In all ages there have been writers writing out of their own needs, and blogs are an answer to get rid of high cost of self creativity. I am an older man with fewer computer skills than my daughter who has been at computers since she was three, so here I can satisfy my need to write without spending too much on self-published books. All three blogs let me reach an audience missed by books and stand a better chance to reach a wider audience. My two books, Winter from Spring, Meditations on Gratitude, as Kindle books and paperbacks did not reach as many people as I wanted, and blogs can let me avoid the printer. Layout and design is expensive. For me writing is more like the charcoal jottings of preexisting civilization made only for posterity. Blogs face two problems as I see it. They might be submerged into a chaos of too much writing, and they depend on electronic storage. Yet, how's that different from electronic books which must have specialized publication? Paper disintegrates, blogs can be physically stored and organized for posterity in data banks. All organization becomes chaos at some point, but charcoal images on cave walls still exist after the author scribbled eons ago. So what if I reach only a few interested people, but hopefully, readers will reach out to me. Writing is essential for showing the ways of culture before history knows those ways. To record each individual is essential especial for billions of people who need to know enough reading beyond pictures to save a planet. Writing without profit isn't new to me. I'm not seeking to impress the audience. Poetry in general never sells, and personal confessional, and emotional writing exists sometimes like journal writings only for the author. At least here is my hope for wider audiences. My writing is personal and informal, but my writing expresses some serious ideas like the writing of contemporary writers to rise above chaos in my own simple way, above self-absorption, a meditation, the simple writing of an ordinary man. I hope to find my own way out of my own chaos and make my record stand alone if even in electrons. Though I hope never to express nightmare in my poetry, fiction, or essays, some serious considerations are important to me after centuries of mechanized nightmare. The next decade is probably of the same failure in our world. This decade looks to be another time of diminished individuals and the next as well. We all wish peace and hope will become normal. It looks like if hope reaches each individual, not governments there is satisfaction in making means of writing available to many. My hope is for each human being to give their own expression out of the abyss. If humankind is to survive in any common way, we must each be able to express maturity and take responsibility in something beyond self. Electronic media offers people these possibilities so long as computers can store individual lives. Here people can freely see what I write and what others write. Though I hold an MFA in creative writing my simple vision never found a wide audience. I was disappointed about this earlier in my life, but now it's just what one expects of such degrees. I found happiness in family and especially in love of my wife and daughter. Writing can be more than a pastime now that I'm older. I approach seven decades living with some disappointing times, and some satisfying times. I'm like most people, and I've been married more than 37 years, and we sent a successful daughter into the world. We happily live in a country where even the poorest have food. Often as a young man when I traveled for nearly one year through Europe, where does a culture begin to feed and house so many people, and how do all these people live in harmony since World War II? Maybe it's been a question of survival. Writers can hold a little corner with blogging, blogging for harmony and peace. This is my hope. This is my question.

One thought on “I think about my Daughter!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: