The Honor and Burden of Story-Telling

Throughout the ages, story-telling has had a place of enormous importance in the development of society and the chronicling of life.  Stories were told to remember deeds or people, as cautions against the world, to keep alive a conquered culture, and merely as a way to pass the time.  Those who could orally tell a good tale have been revered.  Once writing came along, scribes and literacy were at first kept for the upper class; but literate or not, the stories were told.  Sometimes they were told orally, sometimes they were told in quilts, sometimes in pictures, sometimes in song.  But always, stories are told.  As a species, it is what we do.

One of my favorite movie lines is at the beginning of "Braveheart"--'History is written by the victors'.  If you think about that, it oozes of stories untold or unremembered, aches with the adage that there are two sides to every tale.  Respectfully, I submit there are more than two sides to every tale and that often the untold tales are the more interesting.   I hope to tell the stories that have remained silent, about those nearly forgotten, to bring light into the dark corners of the past and breathe life into the ghosts that linger there.

To me, the best stories combine fact and lore.  A skillful weaving of truth and possibility into a delectable morsel of food for thought--this, to me, is the hallmark of a great story.  The ability to transport the reader or listener to another time or place imparting both knowledge and imagination is indeed a true gift.  I hope that I have enough of that gift to share.

As I work to establish myself as a writer, I am mindful of the responsibility before me.  I owe it to the writers before me to carry on their legacy with skill, grace and passion.   And I owe it to everyone to be a wordsmith worthy of those about whom I write, fictional or real.  I hope to be up to the task.  And I am counting on you, my friends, to keep me honest. 

Remembering Jim Jack

I logged onto Facebook to see what was up in the world and there it was--the smiling face of Jim Jack with the words "RIP JJ--we will miss you" in my newsfeed.  I felt like I had been suckerpunched.  I quickly ran a search and discovered that he had been killed in an avalanche up at Stevens Pass.  And the tears began.

I graduated from high school with Jim.  Lakes High School, class of '84.  My maiden name is Jackson, so we were always next to each other in the yearbook.  I was, to put it bluntly, not popular and Jim was.  Some from high school may see this and wonder why in the world I would cry at the loss of Jim Jack--I wasn't best buds with him or even in the same Social Status. But he didn't care about all that superficial stuff--unusual for a high school aged guy, but true.  Jim didn't judge people (ironic that he grew up to be a judge--he would appreciate that), he just took people as they were, smiled, laughed and went on with life.  We had English together one semester, and we were in a drama club and a couple of plays together--in fact, one shining memory of him is as the silent but hilarious King Sextimus in "Once Upon A Mattress."  His antics on and off stage kept us all laughing until we cried.  Or snorted.   A story that I tell often involved Jim--sophomore year we were picking up our report cards, and the teacher that had the "J"s was often drunk.  I didn't realize it at the time--naive thing that I was, but it was true and as an adult I can see it clearly.  Anyways...she handed Jim Jack my report card in error.  That report card was the one and ONLY time in high school that I had straight As.  I will never forget Jim's shocked face when he saw the 4.0 and then the sheepish grin when he realized it was my report card.  That became 'our joke'--he teased me about straight As the rest of high school. And then, at our ten year reunion, he came up and gave me a big hug and said "Laura Jackson, how the heck are you?  What are you up to?"  At the time, I was working at CIA, and I told him so.  He paused, took a swig of his beer, nodded and grinned and said "That's because you got straight As."  He then proceeded to tell me about being a 'professional ski bum' and firefighter.  He was so happy and content--it all seemed to be a perfect fit for him.

With the advent of Facebook, like so many others, I have been able to keep in touch with scattered friends from long ago.  I don't accept every friend request--I have to actually know you.  And remember you fondly.  Despite having only seen him at reunions since high school, I happily accepted Jim's friend request.  It has been fascinating to me to have this window into his world, so vastly different from mine--his posts almost in another language to a non-skier "fresh pow today" meaning little to this suburban mom.  It was clear, however, that he loved his life and was filled with joy.  It seems wildly appropriate to me that his job was in the outdoors--no walls could contain that spirit and that larger than life personality. 

 Reunions will not be the same without him.  He will be remembered and toasted at all of them in the future, I can guarantee that.  I think of him now in Heaven, which for him will be sunny skies, clean crisp air, a killer run with "fresh pow" with a cold beer, warm fire and good friends at the end.  Cheers to you Jim--we will all miss your face.