Mary was going through some old boxes that had cards, letters, and other assorted paperwork. She has resumed efforts at downsizing that began prior to our move back in 2016.
Some of the boxes contained letters from her mom, sent during college. When we were both off at school back in the day, letters (not text or social media) were how parents communicated with their children who were off at school if they cared about remaining in-touch.
Yesterday was yet another sad holiday. I felt inadequate, knowing her sense of loss as a mother whose son was killed: she also lost her mom last fall, so the day was particularly tough for her. I’ll experience something similar on Father’s Day. Life is never the same for parents who’ve lost an adult child, and not everyone is celebratory on days like these.
An item Mary dug out related to me was an old book report. I’m not sure what I wrote it for (most likely a freshman English class at UMO). It was on Huckleberry Finn, by Mark Twain.
Reporting out on “Huckleberry Finn” (circa 1980 or 1981)
Reading through my writing from the past was interesting. It doesn’t quite match up to my writing today, but there were signature items in this 300-word review that made me smile.
In the report, I managed to report-out on the “sociological thread” running through Twain’s signature work. Apparently, my interest in that method of analyzing writing was present back in 1980 or 1981.
I wrote this:
His (Twain’s) creation of Huck Finn, the uncouth, ignorant character at the heart of the book, captured the hearts of countless readers. This is something in its own right. Twain goes a step further, though, and delves into the sociological makeup of Americans at this time period.
I’d rewrite this paragraph today so that it reads a bit “smoother,” but I obviously had cultivated an eye for the “sociological,” because it was there, back in my late teens.
