Second Class Citizens

You were born in Greeley, Colorado–your grandma Dorothy never met you until we moved to Peru, Illinois. She and grandpa Don drove for 5 hours or more from Des Moines, Iowa just to see you when you were about three-years-old. Grandma Mary came on Amtrak from Howard, South Dakota at the same time so both grandmothers could meet you and each other. Grandma Dorothy always felt like a second-class citizen when with me because I had been to college and graduate school and studied in some of the best–Grinnell College, the University of Iowa, and Colorado State. I’m afraid I never treated your grandma Dorothy very well. Though I tried, often we didn’t really understand. If I had been a proper son maybe I would have visited her more often, written her more letters, sent her more cards, all this before she died of breast cancer at age 68. As I write this I am 67, and so far, I have no sign of cancer though I smoked for 28 years, so I will probably live to be more than 68-years-old. However, I too have felt sometimes like your grandma Dorothy towards you my dearest daughter. Perhaps, I wasn’t always the best father, and like your grandma Dorothy, I have always felt like a second-class citizen. My therapist says I am nearly recovered from bipolar disorder.

In 1990, I taught at Illinois Valley Community College. I had earned my M.F.A .in creative writing by December 15, GPA of 3.9. If I had passed my comprehensive the first time, I would have graduated with distinction.  However, I had difficulty studying for any big examination at the end of my programs, and to tell you the truth, though, I went to school for 11 years earning three advanced degrees, but I hated school, didn’t like the mind bending work, not at all, not at all, what’s too say.

Published by elgwyn

I was a University and community college instructor before retiring. I also worked in fast food restaurants, and retail stores. I am an ordinary man writing for because I want to write and because my education prepared me to write; BA English lit, MA English, EdS higher education, and MFA creative writing, free verse poetry and essays. Blogs are an answer to high-priced self-publishing. Walt Whitman had to self-publish his first 1000 copies of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass because in 1855 poetry did not sell. Most poets make a living in other ways than writing. Wallace Stevens was an insurance executive, and TS Eliot was a banker. Many writers teach, and always there have been writers who have written because they needed to express their thoughts and feelings. They wrote not necessarily to make money but to express "the old universal truths of the human heart" according to Faulkner. Here I reach a wider audience I missed than by self-publishing, and I stand a better chance to reach a wider audience for less expense than self-publishing. I self-published my first books, Winter from Spring, and Meditations on Gratitude; poetry and photo books which were easier to self-publish than to seek a not to seek a publisher company. This blog allows me to write for an interested audience because I write poetry and personal essays. I write for a friendly audience and present to you a slice of my writing. Perhaps you will enjoy what you read.

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