So much to love here. Your exploration of “paragraph” is brilliant and I wish I could alter time so that I encountered this essay at the start of my teaching career not the end of it.
And that passion for reading - and story creation - shows from the very first ‘read’ of learning of you and your work. For me, that was in volunteering for Austin’s Writers’ League - when we included it and you in our non-fiction and fiction workshops. That pleasure continues - and now any time your work crosses my path, not just via an event.
I just started Nursing school at South College in Atlanta, this essay is a part of the first assignment in my English class. I admire your dedication to your people. As an African American man, I often seen the same things you described in your essay, while I was in school. This need to resist that held us back so much, including myself... I'm speechless. Great work!
Lucky you were to grow up in a Palace of The Mind, Books. And Lucky you to continue to be by sharing your Palace with all the students you see. You put light into their world.
resonates....live part time in Keweenaw Bay Indian Community (Ojibwa) of Baraga Mi. and your deft feeling searching exposition has blurred the divide which i never really felt in first place but always seek to bridge....so glad someone recommended this in "notes" !!!
I also need to say, Sherman, that your writing like no one else I have come across these days, yet, connects the outside of me to the inside of me. Thank you again -- you have quite the powerful, priceless, "superhuman," gift.
This had me bawling in the first "fence." Inspiring me emotionally & mentally first, & then filling me physically with blood & purpose as it builds to a crescendo & closes.
My mother along others throughout my life have said that art saved their lives. I am now 61 & have only recently, this past fall, finally connected, & committed, to writing.
But it was this essay, Sherman, that I finally "got it" & in this moment understand "saves lives." Thank you for this gift you have given an old white woman. Thank you.
Your father was a great man. English was the code that enabled empire. Now, there are no books. Only the backlit resolution of flickering digital ghosts.
So much to love here. Your exploration of “paragraph” is brilliant and I wish I could alter time so that I encountered this essay at the start of my teaching career not the end of it.
And that passion for reading - and story creation - shows from the very first ‘read’ of learning of you and your work. For me, that was in volunteering for Austin’s Writers’ League - when we included it and you in our non-fiction and fiction workshops. That pleasure continues - and now any time your work crosses my path, not just via an event.
I just started Nursing school at South College in Atlanta, this essay is a part of the first assignment in my English class. I admire your dedication to your people. As an African American man, I often seen the same things you described in your essay, while I was in school. This need to resist that held us back so much, including myself... I'm speechless. Great work!
I have used this essay so many times in my classroom, and I continue to use it, as it is so rich in imagery and ideas.
Lucky you were to grow up in a Palace of The Mind, Books. And Lucky you to continue to be by sharing your Palace with all the students you see. You put light into their world.
resonates....live part time in Keweenaw Bay Indian Community (Ojibwa) of Baraga Mi. and your deft feeling searching exposition has blurred the divide which i never really felt in first place but always seek to bridge....so glad someone recommended this in "notes" !!!
Expectations of failure continue today.
Yes, sadly so.
You are a critical thinker. Which may be a gift from all the books you’ve read. And bless you for passing this gift on again and again.
Thank you!
Left out an important word, "reading."
I also need to say, Sherman, that your writing like no one else I have come across these days, yet, connects the outside of me to the inside of me. Thank you again -- you have quite the powerful, priceless, "superhuman," gift.
Thank you!
This had me bawling in the first "fence." Inspiring me emotionally & mentally first, & then filling me physically with blood & purpose as it builds to a crescendo & closes.
Torture, pain, sorrow, determination & searching, wonder, joy, stumbling forward, perseverance, discovery, grief, anger & confusion, & the battle -- wow.
My mother along others throughout my life have said that art saved their lives. I am now 61 & have only recently, this past fall, finally connected, & committed, to writing.
But it was this essay, Sherman, that I finally "got it" & in this moment understand "saves lives." Thank you for this gift you have given an old white woman. Thank you.
There is little better than a real paper book in my hands and the time to read it.
I agree.
love it! Paragraphs as fences, and also "Books...! Boooks...! Booksss...!"
Thanks, Bruce!
Your father was a great man. English was the code that enabled empire. Now, there are no books. Only the backlit resolution of flickering digital ghosts.
There are still the older timers reading! And kids still worship picture books!
Hurrah! Books are all we have left. And when I say me, I mean myself. I wonder if it is enough.