By: Sheila S. Hudson
Writers write. It’s what they do. A lot of writers carry around a pen and pad of paper, keep
one in the car, and by their bedside table. One even has a pen with a light so
she can write when the muse prompts even in the middle of the night. This is a habit I acquired early. Naturally as a writer/grandmother I have implements at hand to capture words of wisdom which flow from
my grandsons’ mouths.
“A three-year old child is a being who gets almost as much fun out of a fifty-six dollar set of swings as it
does out of finding a small green worm.” (Bill Vaughn) one of my seven grandsons
just turned three years old so that statement though a bit dated is still true. Children
ask questions; they inquire. They savor the moment of here and now and do not
worry about the future or what might take place next.
Children make great writing partners because they have wonderful imaginations.
Andrew and Cooper each have a collection of dogs and stuffed animals. Both
middle children, they have a unique ability to come up with colorful and sometimes weird names for their pets – like
chocolate, brownie, and bead-o. Children have wonderful memories especially the
pre-readers. Hudson our resident math genius knows the bus numbers of all of
his friends. My best friend’s grandson knows all of the presidents of the
United States and in order. He and
his brother pretend to be Rutherford B. Hayes and Millard Fillmore.
“It is not a bad thing that children should occasionally and politely put parents (and grandparents) in their
place.” (Collete) Brutal critiques keep one humble, help one to employ
simpler dialogue, and force one to explain terms in a more elemental vocabulary. Children are painfully honest, guileless,
and maybe the most innocent opinion you can get.
Dennis Hensley, one of
our former SWA instructors, said he often told a sequence or a story to a child and
asked them to repeat it. Then he would adapt his version to the easier vocabulary. If the child didn’t understand the content, chances are neither would the people
reading the material.
“You can learn many things from children. How much patience you
have, for instance.” (Franklin P. Jones) My favorite time with my grandsons
is putting them to bed. I love asking them questions like, “Do you have
to forgive if someone says they are sorry?” and “What did Mommy tell
you not to say?” It is payback for their questions like “Who is God’s
mother?” and “Why isn’t Papa in your baby picture?” They
will take an abundant amount of time since stalling lights out is their specialty. It
is then that the older boys will take flights of fantasy, twisting my comments, telling outrageous fictitious tales on each
other usually resulting in gales of laughter and my daughter calling me to come downstairs.
Rachel Carson encourages, “If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship
of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the job, excitement and mystery of the world we live in.”
Youngsters have a natural sense of wonder. It is our duty as writers to foster
that. If you are lucky like me, you have access to a child that you can partner
with. If not, borrow one.
Because somewhere in our
growing up, many of us lose delight in living, wonder, and awe, we must nurture it in others.
As a bona fide card carrying, grandmother of the Magnificent Seven, I have a sworn and solemn duty to uphold silliness
in any form, nurture expression, and encourage love of language. Gore Vidal once
suggested, “Never have children, only grandchildren.” Perhaps he
got it right.
# # #
