Howdy Alex,
Thanks for wrriting. O so good to hear from you.
Thanks for your kind words re the Pamphlet. For many years during the crippling depression I have meant to write to you to try to explain that I had become a recluse and avoided communicating with all people except my dear grandmother and only leave the back room through the window just before daylight and walk about a mile to be by Moccasin River’s side, there where I had my hideout over a waterfall and small pond where grew the biggest tallest bamboo I ‘ve ever seen and biggest tallest cypress I’ve seen and growing with its knees in the water, and the sound of the bamboo in the wind and the waterfalls shared with me their beauty and comforting sound, and around noon I’d walk, or sometimes run on my xcountry running trail (probably an old Tuscarora trail) on down the river to big leaning pine, the biggest tallest pine I’ve seen, where I had a nice place just up above the water and every day in summertime a small flock of doves would fly into the green pine needle canopy up above me and rest and play and coo and call to each other and to me too, and we got to know each other and sometimes I’d call to them and they’d answer and that was comforting, and every day I’d take a small notebook and a right write pen and sometimes pen my thoughts, and that was comforting, too. O it’s all a long story but then I come from a long line of storytellers all the way back to Grantown-on-Spey in Scotland.
I could write to you all and believed I knew you’d understand what I was attempting with the Pamphlet writing, and now I know you do. I wish to tell you that I understand your letter, and that it’s comforting to know that and to tell you here.
Just realized I must close here and continue the letter using same method I used to send the letter I sent yesterday. I look forward to sending that straightaway. I can’t quit writing but I have to ask you to never quit writing, telling all thoughts. You have a writer’s spirit given to you by the Great Holy Spirit that gave you your church that you love cause your writing tells me. When you wrote to me many moons ago and told me you’d been cleaning around your church, guess what came into my mind? The title of Faulkner’s story, “Shingles for the Lord. ” ‘Tis true. Wanted to tell you.
Keep writing, only you can tell your story. You know.
Way back when I was walking running hitching from Carolina to Northern Iowa to see my Aim, or even before when I still had the Porsche SC with the Blaupunkt radio, the driver would be listening to a show about writing and the MC would always sign off with, that is tell his listening fellow writers, Do good work. Wanted to tell you and I believe you did your level best to implant that into every student you taught.
And this: If you ever correspond with any of the students that talked with me on the phone when we were working on “Smoke/Hog-Wild Hauling,” please tell them I asked you to tell them what a great pleasure and comfort it was to talk with them. Thanks.
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Jake
