Exercise

This summer at UND we were given a writing prompt that included taking the first four lines from various poems written by those in the class. The four lines are listed below.

"No one asked for God’s mercy or favors . . .

Only then would you have figured out the strength

Maybe, since you’re something like me, you, too

And I shouldn’t tell you, but I will"

Then we were told to write an essay in response to this.

Here is what I came up with.

Maybe, since you’re something like me, you, too have a need for storytelling, a compulsion to spin a tale, a desire to record in narrative form.

The readings yesterday talked about human desire to record events and ideas - beginning first on cave walls as drawings, then as an oral tradition, and then as a written language.

The importance of being remembered. No one asked for God’s mercy or favors, so we must record and remember who either received them or who wanted none of them. And since there is no way of knowing what is beyond our lives, we must record what we did here in this phase while we still can.

My dad kept records. The man was prolific. This is because he was a truck driver for 35 years where he had to meticulously keep a log and record his miles, his fuel, his deliveries, his expenditures, his hours, his routes, and so on.

All of this information preserved. But now that he is gone, I wish he would have recorded more of the stories and history of our family. So I have accepted the role as family recorder from here on out.

This began with me writing a multi-genre, creative nonfiction memoir on my grandmother. Then it moved on to me starting a blog where I record anything and everything that happens to me as a teacher, to be husband and father, and as a human being.

This entails jotting down memories of Mom and Dad. Jotting down stories they had told me. Jotting down new stories I hear from their friends and relatives.

This too me is the power of writing - preservation.

When I was a child, I hated taking naps. The only way my grandmother could get me to lie down - and believe me - that was the last thing I ever wanted to do - was to tell me a story. That lure of a tale, a history, a significant event was irresistible.

So she had us lie down on her bed and she began telling me of a great warrior who lived in a far away land. He heard the story of an evil monster that had been killing another king’s warriors across the sea. So he set out with his best men to help.

The beast came every night to the king’s hall and killed whatever men he could find sleeping there. So my grandmother said our hero decided to sleep there with his men. Sure enough the monster struck, but our hero was ready for him. They were locked in fierce battle. And he tore the monster's arm from its socket. The monster fled and the hero's victory was so grand that they retold it again and again so that the hero was never forgotten.

I never slept a wink during the hour we lied in bed. I just kept staring at my right shoulder and thought about how much that must have hurt the poor monster.

This is the third time I've written about that story Granny told me. Years later, of course, I realized it was "Beowulf." Like the Anglo-Saxons long before me, I tell that story to help keep my grandmother's legacy alive.

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Ever since our wonderful six traits session last week, I've been trying to use different writing strategies in my classes. I think I'm going to try a version of this same assignment and see what we come up with.