Writing My Story

By Ken Piper, September 6, 2012

     Christmas of 2010 someone got a cup and some magnet buttons (like for on the refrigerator) with a picture of an old typewriter along with “Write your own story.”  That made a big impression on me.  About a year later, upon reflecting, I realized that I have been putting off writing my own story for most of my life.  My desire to build my own house, do something in “green” energy, have a positive effect on governmental policy, help my community and more, are all things that date back 40 to more than 50 years.  I haven’t given much thought about my art in the last several decades, but my desire to see the world and write is certainly in there too.

      This is probably part of my dissatisfaction with my job all those years.  Sure, the job allowed me to raise my family, be reasonably secure financially, but that did not satisfy my inner need.  I usually attributed my dissatisfaction to boredom, because I couldn’t be as creative as I wanted to be, and to the feeling that I had been working for all those years without accomplishing anything that really “makes a difference.”  Others with whom I worked often expressed their admiration for my abilities, but that did not get to the core of it.  A few got it, because they too felt that all our work was for nothing.  For some others, the money is what counts (remember the bumper stickers that say “The one who dies with the most toys wins”).

      I can see now that what I have been doing is helping write others’ stories (usually an insignificant part, at that).  So, now, I need to work on my story.

     Oh, the old Underwood above – that was my first typewriter.  It was my grandmother’s, before she was married.