Sharing Words

"Well Hemingway was an old drunk who shot himself," Sarah said, "and I don't want that to happen to you. "He moved from Key West to Cuba to Ketchem Idaho," I replied. "I'd shoot myself too." "Well ..." she mused, uncertain of the argument now. "Plus he stopped writing," I continued. "He should have never have stopped writing. She hugged me and that concluded the conversation. It had begun discussing which books we've re-read the most. Hers is Sid Silverstein's THE GIVING TREE which she's read to the girls a hundred times. Mine is Hemingway's THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA, followed by THE LORD OF THE RINGS trailed by Buechner's WISHFUL THINKING and PECULIAR TREASURES with the BIBLE coming in fifth. I don't think I've ever re-read any of my books. Right now I'm mostly done re-reading Graham Greene's mangificant THE HEART OF THE MATTER but I already know the ending. So I pick up great phases but struggle to re-do something I've already done. It's like when I re-read the Bible. I already know the Devil did it and the good guy wins. Plus I live on Tybee Island, write every morning listening to Pandora radio counting the number of Hibiscus blooms there are on the Beloved Back Deck (3 today). Goddess snores laying beside me while Winston, the little gay dog, licks my toes and prances around. I take my time. Sometimes it pours out of me quickly and my fingers can't type fast enough while other mornings I sit and stare at the Palm Trees waiting on words to come. For years, I gave it all away, writing for the places I worked, using my words to advance the efforts and make the places better than they were when I found them. In that regard, I was incredibly successful. Now, it's for me. It's like morning prayers. I share it because I believe in sharing. I think we'd all be better off, if we shared more.