Seventeen Years!

Seventeen years ago today, I become a mother for the first time when our son Joshua entered this world.

Josh and I are very much alike.

One of the things we both share is a love of writing.

His goal is to be a writer. Earlier this year, he finished his first novel.

He is currently taking an Independent Study course with his favorite English teacher where she is serving as editor. Once he completes the re-write, he plans to attempt to get it published.

Last month, we were all in my husband’s Massachusetts hometown and we came across a storefront that was full of typewriters.  Josh’s eyes lit up and  there was no doubt we were going inside.

The shop was run by an older African American couple. The man took one look at Josh and said, “You’re a writer, aren’t you?” When Josh nodded, he emitted a rich, full-throttled laugh and he said, “I knew it!”

As Josh perused the various typewriters and finally found the one he liked the best, the owner began to tell Josh that a typewriter was a writer’s instrument. This really resonated with Josh, as he is also a musician who plays multiple instruments.

Once Josh purchased his manual typewriter, he was smiling from ear to ear. He has used it every day since we returned home.

Last week, he penned this poem on his blog and I would like to share it with all of you to celebrate his birthday today.

I hope you like it as much as I did. I happen to think this poem…and its’ author…is fabulous. 🙂 Enjoy!

“THE SYMPHONY OF LANGUAGE:

I am a musician without common sense.
My notes make no sound, though their beauty immense.
No “TWANG” of a string, for little old me,
My keys made of plastic, not precious iv’ry.
When I press them down, not a single note played,
Save the staccato “SNAP” of a letter displayed.

My G’s, A’s and C’s find themselves in no song,
But when strung together, their impact is strong.
They tell of great places, both far and quite near,
In ways that, when spoken, are sweet to the ear.

My instrument not plastic, nor wooden with strings,
But of metal and paper, two fine blessed things.
In a band or an orchestra, not a single one played,
But through its humble use, a whole universe made.
A world full of people and great beasts with wings,
A place which abounds with wonderous things.

A musician I am, creating a song,
With my trusty typewriter I’ve used all along.
Its timbre not sweet, but its message is true-
“A writer I am, and you may be too.”

Write the music of life, the dischord of strife,
Write mountains and mole-hills, the good and the bad.

Write your music, sing loudly and true;
Don’t widdle or whine, don’t think- just do;

Come, tell your story; it’s waiting for you.”

Thanks for reading,

Josh