My early appreciation for language was elevated not by the parentally-encouraged exposure to William Shakespeare or Robert Frost, but by the spoken words of the folks with whom I labored in my grandfather’s agricultural business.
Jim Gomes was dark Portuguese man whose frequent smile revealed a significant absence of teeth. He could not write his name: he signed his paychecks with an X and my grandmother would cash them for him. He didn’t know many words, but he spoke with an innocent eloquence, and always got his point across.
There was Gordon Pittsley who, when he was not boasting of having pushed “gooks” out of a helicopter in Vietnam, was regaling us with stories of his various sexual exploits. The subject matter was crude and offensive, but his phrasing was impeccable. I have never known anyone since who could swear so poetically.
Ralph Peck was an old Yankee whose wife arrived at the company office every Friday afternoon to retrieve his paycheck before he got back from work. Accordingly, he carried himself with an air of resignation, but he had an underlying confidence in himself that found expression in his unique observations about simple things.
There were many others. I loved to hear them speak. I sometimes tried to emulate them, but found that I could never quite replicate the flavor.
During those same teenage years I began writing a lot. I suppose this was prerequisite for an aspiring revolutionary of the sixties. I found growing satisfaction in sculpting words on paper, and also in premeditating stories and conversations so that my spoken words carried at least the intent of art.
My first significantly public writing was for the monthly newsletter of the Monadnock Folklore Society, of which I was a founder. (Curiosly, I’ve circled back and am now managing the content for the MFS Website, which contains Newsletter PDF Archives from that era) Later on my work in publishing gave me opportunities to write for business and marketing purposes, and it is here that I have continued to hone my wordsmith skills. For several years my interest in gardening found expression in writing essays for the Old Farmer’s Almanac Gardening Calendar, and I also wrote a number of freelance pieces for various publications in the life-style and “how to” categories. One assignment for Monadnock Magazine was a profile of the regions bakeries Sweet Surrender. I believe my research for that article was the most extensive I have done before or since.
When Susan and I got married we had, in lieu of wedding presents, a potluck feast. This gave inspiration to a cookbook on the same subject; we solicited recipes from friends and relatives and produced Cooking for Friends, (Simon and Schuster) that was later republished by as Potluck Plain and Fancy (Alan Hood). While a cookbook is more of a compilation than creation, it still required considerable shaping of language, and we did intersperse the recipes with colorful narratives. Potluck Plain and Fancy still be found on Amazon.
There is one piece of writing which remains my favorite. In 1999 our family took a five-week trip across the country. I had brought my laptop and a wireless modem, meaning, at that time, that my computer connected to my cell phone, and transmitted data at 300 baud. I had this so I could stay somewhat plugged into my work. Nearly every day I wrote an account of our trip and sent it to a mailing list of interested (or polite) friends. When we got home I put all these dispatches into one document, and decided that I would keep the text intact. Though the story might have enjoyed some refinement through judicious editing, I wanted the flavor to reflect the journey, and it has resonated well with those who have read it. For those who would like to tap into that trip, here it is.
Even if one aspires to be a good writer, it is hard to resist the lure of doggerel. When my sister opened a flower shop in Reading, Pennsylvania, she was amazed at how much business came in from funerals. My instincts overcame any attempt at good taste, and I dashed of a series of Death Poems.