Nina Lewis

Archive for May, 2009

I do not like genealogy.  Never have.  Probably never will.

I can be standing in line at the grocery store or at the airport and a complete stranger will end up telling me his genealogy.  All the way back 8 generations.

It’s gotten to be a family joke. 

But, I don’t find it funny.  I must have a sign on my back that says “Tell me your genealogy.”  Maybe it’s God’s way of punishing me for not liking genealogy.

It’s the searching-for-dates-frustration that I don’t like.  Do I care when great-great-great grandma Annie Katrina was born? Nope.  Married?  Nope.  When she died?  Not really.  Heartless little cuss, aren’t I?

On the other hand, I must say that I have helped family members write their personal history.  Like my Dad.  My father-in-law.  My step-mother.  My step-mother’s father.  That ought to give me some grace in God’s eyes don’t you think?

However, my crusty anti-genealogy heart got a kick out of this movie!

Talk about being humbled.  Here, I sit as I write:  in a 4 bedroom home, 2 1/2 baths, carpet on the floors, with electricity and indoor plumbing and heating.  I have a stove, fridge, microwave and dishwasher.  PLENTY of clothes and shoes.  And food.  All that I want.  Whenever I want.  And if I need more, the store is a short 4 minute drive away.  My house sits on 2 acres surrounded by lawn, trees, shrubs, and flowers.

Compare that to what I read in the book Eleni by Nicholas Gage.  Eleni Gatzoyiannis lived in Greece.  Her husband lived in the United States while she stayed behind to raise their children.  (He thought it was better to raise their daughters in Greece becasue the women in America were so loose!)  WWII came to their mountain village and then the Greek civil war afterward.  In her village, Elani was considered well-to-do because she had a house with 4 rooms (but with a dirt floor) and because she had a ‘rich’ husband who lived in America.

During the civil war, the Communists guerrillas took over Eleni’s village using many of the villagers as slave workers for the guerrillas.  They had to bake food for the soldiers.  Clean the soldiers clothes.  Give all of their food to the soldiers.

Young girls were forced into the army (as was one of Eleni’s daughters).  Younger children were taken from their families and sent into other Communist countries for ’safe keeping’ (indoctrination).

Eleni tried to escape to save her children.  Her children were able to escaped but she didn’t.  She was tortured and eventually murdered.  Her son, Nicholas (who escaped and eventually made it to live with his father whom he had never seen) wanted to bring the person responsible for her death to justice (personally kill him).  But, when he finally had the chance, Nicholas realized he couldn’t kill the man.

A very touching and troubling book.   (Troubling because of the brutality of war and what the Communist guerrillas did to the villagers and the poverty and hardships they had to endure.)

Thank you, Kerilyn, for suggesting I read it.  I’m glad I did.

Chop, chop, chop.  Bend, bend, bend.  Whack, whack, whack.  Ache.  Ache.  Ache.  Yard work.

The book On Writing Well: The Classic Guide to Writing Nonfiction by William Zinsser languished on my list of books to-be-read.  For years.  Somehow it just wasn’t compelling reading like The Bonesetter’s Daughter or The English Patient or even The World is Flat. Three months ago, I bought it at a bargain book sale for one third the regular price.

Then, it languished on my bookshelf.

Every time I passed it, the book looked at me, tears welling up in its eyes.  “Read me, read me,” it begged, lips trembling.  It sniffled back the tears as I ignored it and walked on by.

“Enough of this whining,” I finally chastised it.  “Snap to it.  Let’s get you read!”  I grabbed it off the shelf and stuffed it in my bag so I could read it on my daily bus ride.

What a delightful surprise.  I’m not sure what I expected — lots of rules about commas, split infinitives, and semi-colons I guess.  (Semi-colons scare me.)  Didn’t get that.  I expected lots of advice about eliminating adverbs and adjectives and about using strong verbs.  Got that.

What I got (but didn’t expect) was exceptionally compelling reading.  Zinsser definitely practices what he preaches.  My favorite part was his trip to watch a camel caravan bring huge salt slabs (Africa’s white gold) 1,000 miles across the desert to land-locked Timbuktu.

Even if you aren’t interested in improving your writing, his words are so compelling that you won’t want to put the book down even when you come to the end.

Now the million dollar question is:  will my writing remain a wallflower shyly tapping her toe while hiding along the sidelines of life?  Or will my words dance off the page, a haughty tango, foot stomping, hand clapping overhead, rose clenched in my teeth, red skirt swirling, and hair flung over my shoulder (gray-roots and all 4 inches of it)?

I’m not sure . . .