CAN I GET A WITNESS

The Impact of Truth on Story

Random thoughts on a Monday, or Two Examples of How Writing Truth Can Sometimes Prove More Challenging Than Fiction:

1) I’m working on an essay about bullying for a YA anthology. Maybe some of you are, as well? Even if my work isn’t selected for inclusion in the publication, it’s a dark story I kept secret for a very long time–one that makes me feel lighter for its retelling.

When I read the first segment of my story to a friend, she said “Wow,” which made me exceedingly glad. Who among us doesn’t want to tug on our readers’ emotional cord? Assuming you’re going about it honestly, that is. But when she asked, quite innocently, “Did that really happen,” well. My heart plummeted. In truth, I felt anguished by that question. At least initially. I realize that some situations are too horrible to even imagine, and to even contemplate the fact that some human beings are capable of such cruelty…well, it’s almost incomprehensible, isn’t it? And yet, there is a dark underbelly to human nature — ours and others’ — and powerful stories often reside in the intersection of those shadows.

2) I’ve uncovered another situation in which truth is stranger (and arguably less believable) than fiction. Turns out, the scandal I mentioned in this post received national attention at the time of its initial unfolding. This is important for at least two reasons: 1) I’ve got documentation that the rumors were true; and 2) I need to dig through the legal archives, to follow that part of my family story to its ultimate conclusion. Or beginning, depending on how you look at things.

So…I’m fueling my roadster for a trip to El Lay this week. And I’m girding my loins, because no matter how gratifying it is to solve these Nancy Drew mysteries, there’s usually an element of sadness and surprise. Also, I’m not one who likes to dwell in shadows, and yet here I am, delving into darkness once again. I’m not afraid, mind you, as I know the Light is with and within me, guiding me forward and protecting me always. Still, if it’s not to much to ask, I’d appreciate your keeping me in your thoughts.

P.S. Imagine that one of your main characters is named Eva, and that her preacher-husband calls her Eve. Now place her — and the beginnings of their relationship — in a city of refuge called Eden City. Do you suppose some editors might suggest you scale back the irony, so as to make the story more believable? It’s certainly possible. And yet…it’s the truth. Yet another reason I’m taking such care in documenting every possible element of my memoir.

Reframing and Window Frames

There were rumors of a religious enclave in the high desert–a “city of refuge” built to protect its residents from the invading “army from the North.” Goliath with an A-bomb. It would also serve as a spiritual sanctuary for Gospel-abiding followers of Christ. Or so their preacher said.

I knew nothing of this place until about three weeks ago. Suddenly a relative (and a former resident of this religious enclave) spoke openly of it. He was willing to share pictures and personal anecdotes, but at the last minute, that opportunity was snatched away by someone who wanted control over the story–my story.

Undeterred, I climbed into my Nancy Drew roadster and headed to the hinterlands, with a trusted friend riding shotgun. A week later, I’m still trying to absorb the full significance of my/our discoveries.

If you twist the lens just right– and tune your ears just so–you might be made to believe you’re entering the Garden of Eden.

But on the other side of the stucco archway, beyond the stone fences…truth becomes evident. The hardscrabble earth is almost barren, pockmarked by chapparal and the occasional cactus. And along a thin stream of water, sparse outcroppings of sycamore and cottonwood trees. (By adjusting the lens again, I still managed to find beauty.)

The remains of a one-time “bomb shelter” is tucked into a distant hillside. There’s room inside for people, plus food, water, and other supplies.

This next photograph speaks to the residents’ Grapes of Wrath-like existence. My mother is clinging to the rusted farm truck, and the petite woman in the dark-colored dress? That’s my beloved Nana, tending a field of corn. Corn!! Smack-dab in the middle of the hard-packed, sun-baked desert! Miracle or hard labor? You decide.

Through a glass darkly…So many questions came to mind as we passed through the hollowed-out remains of my relatives’ hopes and dreams.

Strewn across the desert floor, we saw the bleached architectural bones of a livestock pen. The current owner of the property, so generous with his time, offered me the window frame in the center of this photograph.

Someone else might have passed it by without so much as a sidelong glance. Justifiably so. It’s rough-hewn and unremarkable–about 2 feet by 3 feet of paint-chipped lumber, held together with rusted nails. But it’s borne witness to my family’s secrets, so I think it’s beautiful.

So…How can I repurpose this window frame for my own home, in a way that enhances its beauty and honors its significance? I’d love to hear your creative ideas!

P.S. You know that saying, “You can’t push the river”? It applies so much to this situation. At times, I’ve fretted about being a turtle-slow writer. But in truth, my memoir wouldn’t have been complete without this fresh discovery.

There and back again

Here’s a picture of my Nancy Drew roadster, parked yesterday in the middle of “The Promised Land.”

Each aspect of this story, a stretch of the imagination. Every claim, now proven, more outlandish than I expected.

To be fair, we found beauty in this hardscrabble environment, and we were greeted by fascinating people with generous hearts. But on the whole, the area felt desolate and inhospitable–not at all an oasis. In no way could I ever picture this as a sanctuary of any kind.

Please forgive me if I don’t comment on your blog entries today…I’m still processing yesterday’s discoveries. But if you wanna see something really cool (no exaggeration!), check out the LiveCam images of Mama Phoebe’s adorable new hatchlings! ♥♥♥