Review, Revision, Edit and Update
"Who has something at stake here?" This quote from the book Writing Tools by Roy Peter Clark. Like Joanie, I haven't felt my stories really merited such consideration until this morning. My stories - too simple, not sensational. However looking in more depth, Joanie had a lot at stake - belief in the importance of her story and her family. To put it down in her words was difficult for her, but brought up the reality of her past and her own story.
As far as any copy editing, my updates were wording, spelling and the addition of detail to Joanie's jump from 'forgetting about him' to accepting his (Andrew's) marriage proposal.
Threads
Joanie really didn’t want to speak up. Talking with her mother, Martha Digby, she quietly suggested that she may have a story to tell. “Mom, I’m not that attuned to the Estate, you know. Although you do work there, I’m too involved raising the children and my library career. I did pay attention while they wrote their stories. They so often don’t think I am paying attention. But you always tell me what they've been doing when over at the estate. They are always so excited to see Elizabeth. She is so good to them.” Joanie hesitated, took a sip of her tea. “What do you think, mom?”
Martha poured herself another cup of tea. “Well, dear. You’ve always said that everyone has a story and that each person’s story is important. This is a chance to tell your own story, even if it’s a tiny piece of it.”
“All right then, mom. I’ll do it. It will be refreshing to do something besides working on the computer.” Joanie stood and took their lunch things to the sink. “I’ll get right to work.”
“I have to go now anyway, dear. James and I have plans with Elizabeth and Samuel. Just a short ride into town to the one restaurant that’s still open.”
~~~~~
My story seems so small to me. But it is my story and, as mother reminded me, I do believe that everyone’s story is important. In short, most of my growing up was here in this half of the duplex mother purchased when I was about Ben’s age. I took the bus to school until I was old enough to drive, Then mother let me take the car to school. I loved school, loved learning, but mostly I wanted to be like the school librarian, Mrs. Sanders. She knew all the books and all the students. She seemed to know absolutely everything. When I reached high school, I had forgotten my wish to be like Mrs. Sanders until I heard some of the other girls talking about their applications to universities or colleges. It wasn’t until we had a paper to write about ‘Aspirations of Adulthood’. I thought it was a rather dull title but I wrote about that childhood wish and got a fairly good grade. My 'Aspiration'? Becoming a librarian.
I had been off the Island once with my mom when we took a train trip from Victoria all the way to Niagara Falls the year I graduated from high school. It was my graduation present and a very expensive one. But mom told me ‘I'm so proud of you! Graduating with honours. Your old mom barely made it through high school.’ She was beaming. The train trip was an experience I’ll always remember. We took a trip that showed me a Canada that I had only read about in history books, travel books or seen on television. Mountains much bigger and grander than anything on the Island, prairies covered in wheat fields and fields of grains I didn’t even know existed. I turned to my mother on one of our days “Mom, I want to go to a university off island.” Poor dear, she was horrified. “But, Joanie. You can go to the University of Victoria and you don’t even have to leave home. You’d be so far away. You do mean in Vancouver?”
“No, mom. Somewhere farther away. I don’t know. Calgary, Edmonton or maybe the University of New Brunswick.” Mom started to cry, “You don’t mean all the way across Canada. I’d never see you. You’d never come home!” I remember laughing and hugging her. “Of course I'll come home! Maybe I'll choose Calgary or Edmonton.”
Going that far away was a real first for me. It was exciting and scary, fulfilling and well…..scary. I was incredibly homesick. There was so much more than just learning about becoming a librarian. When university life got too overwhelming I resorted to reading a good book. Alberta’s winter was much different than Vancouver Island’s winter. I learned how to snowshoe and ski. Hiking had been one of my favourite pastimes growing up, the Alberta hiking trails took me out under the big skies. Even though I missed the ocean, I will always remember the night one winter when it was particularly cold and clear. That night I saw the northern lights. What a spectacular display. It was on that night that I met my future husband, Andrew Richardson. Handsome, blonde, eyes as blue as the Alberta skies and a year ahead of me and working toward his Master’s of Education. A shy girl, I had never dated in high school or even my first years out on my own. It was not love at first sight. As a matter of fact , I really didn’t like him at all. Yes, he was handsome, but so full of himself! Over the next year, he kept talking to me about the silliest inconsequential things. I kept being polite, but just not interested. One day, I finally gave up and said “Andrew, what do you want? I’ve been polite, I’ve ignored you, and still you won’t go away. Now I’ll just be blunt. ‘Go Away.” He just laughed, turned and said. ‘I’ll be back’ mimicking a silly Arnold Schwartzenager voice. I went back to my books and forgot all about him.
He stayed away for a month, but began sending me roses every day.. First it was just one, then two until it reached a dozen. Despite my best effort, with that first rose, I remembered every detail about him - his smile, the way a little curl always brushed his forehead... so many things. We met for coffee and then dinner. It was at one of our most romantic dinners that he proposed. As soon as I got home that evening, I called mom. She was so happy for us and at the same time crying. Happy because she loved Andrew and welcomed him into the family. Upset because our careers would be in Alberta. Our fledgling careers and married life began in a tiny town. Me, in a small foothills library and museum; Andrew, in the highschool. We were so very happy. Family had not been in our plans right away, but Ben came along a bit early. He and Abby were both born in Alberta. We moved back to the Island to be closer to my mother now that we had children. My dad had left us when I was a child and we had lost contact with him. Andrew’s family lived on the mainland, but came to Victoria often for vacations. Life had been good for many years. On our days off, we took the children hiking, into Victoria to the sights in that city, to Vancouver to the Science Center and gave them something I hadn’t had until that train trip: a strong sense that the world is a big, exciting place.
And then this pandemic struck. Andrew had taken a lucrative job teaching off island. Because we would miss each other and our little family so very much, we had made plans for trips with the children to visit each other. Restrictions that were imposed changed all of those plans. Our visits are now all screen time. As the vaccines are now reaching us, we are making plans. Andrew will be returning to the Island as soon as possible. My story is intertwined with Andrew’s and with our children. Until he is home, my story will seem a little threadbare.
~~~~~
Joanie wiped a tear away. She folded her story gently and whispered “Andrew, I miss you.”
“Invisible threads are the strongest ties.”
~ Friedrich Nietzsche
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