The first time I really remember journaling was while on a vacation in Alaska with my mom and stepdad. We travelled part of the time with another couple who didn't have any children at the time. They did end up naming their first born Riley after a river we camped on. I remember writing as a chance for alone time. A chance to be a kid and write about what was important to me on this all adult/one teenager trip. I wrote about cute tour guides and beautiful views. About preparing our camp to keep bears away and to escape in my own head or at least onto a piece of paper. I don't know what ever happened to that journal. I'd like to read it again and see what my teenage brain thought of that beautiful place. (Funny as my mom just passed down my old camp trunk to me for my daughter to take to overnight camp. She said if I wanted to take the trunk I also needed to take it's contents. Amongst blank notebooks, old clothes, and old calendars was my Alaska journal. We also uncovered my 8th grade diary which had tears rolling down our cheeks when we read it. )
The next time I remember really writing was on my trip across country with one of my best friends. She was an avid journal keeper. She had written in journals since she was a little girl and had stacks and stacks of them. She is a writer at heart. Perhaps someday this will be her career. Perhaps this is just who she is, a writer. She made me want to write. Seeing her engrossed in her journal in a coffee shop, on a mountain top, in the tent late at night made me want to write too. She would schedule journal times into our trip. "It's been a few days since we've journaled" she'd say. "Let's bring our journals on our hike today." And we would. We kept track of our entire trip. All our stops to National Parks. Every cup of really good cowboy coffee we drank. Although sadly there were not many. Lot's of talk about cornfields and not being able to live in Iowa, even for a day! We even wrote about top ten lists of what our favorite town would need to have for us to live there. A few of the top ten that I can remember were a good bagel store, coffee shop and book store so we could journal there! We'd been spoiled by living on the Vineyard the summer after college graduation. We wanted a place as hip, beautiful and fun for two recent college graduates. We found a couple spots that were distinct possibilities including Jackson Hole and Seattle. But when we arrived in Boulder we knew we'd found it. It probably didn't hurt that my future husband was already living there having gone to school at University of Colorado in Boulder. And that he'd known my friend since Kindergarten. I'm sure he had something to do with us both feeling like we'd found our "home" for the next year or two. We had found the perfect place that matched our top ten list and we loved every minute of living there! I kept journaling in Boulder but not as faithfully.
My cousin was a journaler his whole life. His dad wrote for the United Press International and his brother went to school for writing and currently edits other's works as well as writing his own screenplays and books. My cousin Andy never went to college and he never wrote for a living. He was a writer that wrote about life. About Alaska where he moved when he was 18 for the summer and never came home. About fishing boats and long months at sea. About traveling to Hawaii and Australia on months off. He wrote about his job at Alaska Air and when he became a firefighter he wrote during his hours off at the station. And finally he wrote about his three beautiful girls. He had a journal for each of them. That always touched me so much. That a dad would take on that role of record keeper, of memory keeper for his children. I started one for each of my girls. I think I wrote one page in each.
It wasn't work for my cousin or an obligation. It was just something that came naturally to him. When he had free time, he wrote. He sent cards and emailed and checked in around your birthday. He made everyone he knew feel special by reaching out to them through writing. He made lots of typos and spelled a lot of words wrong. I'm sure it would be hard for an English teacher to read what he wrote without cringing (like my own writing, I'm sure!). But you couldn't stop reading. You wanted to know what else was going on in his life. He journaled and emailed until the end. Sadly he died young at the age of forty five from cancer. Through his journals they were able to determine his cancer was caused by a fire that he fought on his job as a firefighter. He knew before he died that his girls would be taken care of because of the benefits from the firefighter's fund. I'm sure that brought him peace. More than that I'm sure it brings his girls peace to have these journals from their dad. They can pick one up and hear his "voice" through his words. Even when fighting cancer and at his sickest he would end his emails to loved ones with "Life is Good". I miss his voice. Just thinking of his final emails and his positivity brings tears to my eyes. I'm so glad I knew him. I'm glad he shared his love with so many through his journals, letters and emails. It's so unfair that he is gone. We are fortunate he was a writer and that he will be with us forever through his words. It's to him that I dedicate this blog and thank him for letting us know that absolutely anyone can be a writer. Cheers Andy! -Half pint (his nickname for me from when I was a little girl)
When a friend suggested I write a blog about the new cottage I just laughed. I told her she was crazy and said no one would read it. She told me that she would. She and I share a love of several blogs. She calls the bloggers her friends and reads their posts religiously. As do I. We talk about them like they are long lost friends that we know intimately. I've always been an avid reader. But a writer? Never. I really didn't think I would do it. Then one night while joking about it with my husband I checked to see if the blog name that matched our cottage was available. It was. Then I wrote one post. And another. Until here I am writing my 10th or 11th blog post. None of them have been published yet. My husband says I can't put them up on the blog until the cottage is ours. Till it's a done deal-paperwork signed and key in hand. But still I'm writing. Not just for my friend anymore. Although I thank her for the inspiration. ;) I wonder if she'll comment on my blog. She doesn't on any of the others.
One thing that surprised me was that my girls love reading what I've written. They come home from school and ask me if I've written a new blog post today. They use "reading Mom's blog post" as their daily reading requirement. As a teacher and a parent I know it's important for your children to see you read: newspapers, magazines, books. As a Kindergarten teacher we tell parents to write in front of their children: lists, recipes, notes. Sadly in my role as teacher I have never really encouraged parents to journal or write about life. I realize now just how important that is to role model for your children. My girls want to write their own posts. I want this to be a family blog. A place we all come to discover another side of our creativity. Kind of like reading a book out loud as a family. This is our family journal. A journal that started about a cottage on a lake and is turning into a journal about life. It took me a while but I finally realized that I enjoy writing. Even if no one else reads this blog. It's cathartic and enjoyable to sit down with my laptop and a cup of tea or coffee and hit the keys. Sometimes I laugh when I write and sometimes I type through the tears in my eyes like I did today. But that is life, write?
-K
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