WRITING IS IN THE GENES

WRITING IS IN THE GENES

I was cleaning out stuff from my mom’s house.  Well from my house but it was in a box from my mom’s house sitting for eight years unopened.  I found some old school stuff.  I found a story I wrote for a six grade assignment 54 years ago, and I found a poem my mother wrote for another six grade assignment 87 years ago.  Both were written in pencil on now yellowed lined paper.  The writing is somewhat smudged.   

In the interest of preserving history I am posting  this six grade gold in case it disintegrates or is lost.  I think readers will be able to recognize the writing genius that was the future Cranky Old Man, and the talent that gave birth to this genius.

Joe Hagy      Story   3/18/57

CHARLES LEARNS A LESSON

Once a famous writer named Charles Cropean sat at his desk.  He was trying to think of something to write for his new book, The Average American Jobs. 

He was writing at that time about the average pupil studying medicine but he couldn’t think of how to put it down.  So he decided to take the day off and finish it later.  When he started on his way home he saw he had only a gallon of gas left which would only take him half of the way home.  So he went to the gas station.  After the car was filled up he reached for his wallet but it was not there so he asked the station man if he could borrow some money.  The man got mad and grabbed him by the collar.  All of a sudden Charles blinked and saw his teacher, She said, “speak up Charles aren’t you going to recess?”  Charles said, “Yes” he wasen’t a famous writer at all but it would be simple for him to be a famous writer if he didn’t sleep during class.

Not surprising, I received a “Very Good!” on this wonderful story.

Where did I get this talent?  I believe the following poem written by my Mom will answer that question.

Homework

Peggy’s Sled Ride

By Peggy Herman

Here we go down the hill                                                                               

like a wind-mill,                                                                                            

Wait till we are down the hill                                                                       

that is the Jolly’s fun of all.

Oh! here comes Bill                                                                                         

Oh! what a spill,                                                                                             

Why Bill what a pill.                                                                                     

There comes Jane who was ill,                                                                       

she says that her mother is very ill.

“Now it is five o'clock, 
                                                                                                    

what a shock.
                                                                                                         
I think the clock is fast
                                                                                              
but time does pass.”

I think these works by two generations of artists say it all.