"The truth is, we know so little about life, we don’t really know what the good news is and what the bad news is. And if I die—God forbid—I would like to go to heaven to ask somebody in charge up there, “Hey, what was the good news and what was the bad news?"
—
Kurt Vonnegut at the Blackboard - Lapham’s Quarterly: Vonnegut analyzes several classic stories and finds that “Shakespeare was as poor a storyteller as any Arapaho.” Guy studied anthropology and said it was a “big mistake” because “I can’t stand primitive people—they’re so stupid.”
Nothing like him.
"BUT NOTE: THE AUDIENCE WILL NOT TUNE IN TO WATCH INFORMATION. YOU WOULDN’T, I WOULDN’T. NO ONE WOULD OR WILL. THE AUDIENCE WILL ONLY TUNE IN AND STAY TUNED TO WATCH DRAMA."
— David Mamet’s Master Class Memo to the Writers of The Unit | Movieline - I know this is older now, but I keep coming back to it, and every time I do I want to give this man a high-five and a sincere “Thank you.”
My mother’s parents died many years before I came along. My grandmother had brain cancer and died when my Mom was only 9. My grandfather died in a tragic truck accident a little over ten years later. I know them only through my mom’s stories about them and a few photographs, and occasionally (like tonight), I feel hollow where there should reside the wisdom and love of my grandparents.
Fortunately, some letters my grandfather wrote my grandmother when he was courting her survive. It’s been since last Christmas since I read them, but I still feel the impact they made on me. Holding those letters in my hand, I felt as if they were alive still, as if I could go to their bedroom and ask them how they met, how he proposed to her, and the first song they danced to. Maybe I’d see them smile.
I think about this as I pick up my journal for the first entry in over two months, and I’m reminded that our writing, whether a grocery list or a letter to a loved one, is a remnant of who we are, what we believe in, and how we see the world.
