Reunion

Wow!

I am truly late on my September post. Inexcusable.

An upcoming class reunion this past weekend and insurance/monetary concerns dominated last week and I completely spaced on this post as well as a couple other deadlines.

What is the life we live and the environment we live in to our identity and development of self?

If you are an aspiring, or sometimes aspiring author like myself, you are seeking insight into human nature and how best to develop a character, as in a character in a story that will ring true. That oozes of some architype that can touch the souls of your readers with a powerful expression of good, evil or some other deeply seeded human experience that draws the reader in.

Am I that knowledgeable, that perceptive that on these humble pages you can find such a path to enlightenmented insightful understanding of a nirvanastic nature upon which to move the solitary soul of an ardent reader?

Thinking....

Where was my class reunion?

At an exclusive country club. A country club I passed often as it was near the home of my youth. Exclusive to the point that I never imagined ever entering the clubhouse let alone honoring its greens with my presence.

That setup I thought would be a real draw to get someone to a class reunion or any event. I thought it would attract a bigger crowd than usual, particularly at 40 years. And it did, but not as big as I initially expected.

Why did some of my old classmates, those I had called friends, not come even though they live near by? Even though they had been at most all the previous reunions?

There is an opening for a story. Begs a question upon which to develop a plot; plot in the sense of a storyline not of a nefarious secret plan intent upon causing harm.

You have to be careful about what you write these days.

After 40 years I found my classmates much more inquisitive and open than at past reunions. I wondered why so few came to a mass arranged beforehand. More questions that can contribute to a plot, the setting, the background and environment of the times.

Yes I attended the best Jesuit High School possibly in the world not to mention our local metropolitan area. I, my simple unassertive self, had been enrolled in several Catholic institutions through my elementary days and attending Mass multiple times a week was not uncommon.

I expected a larger crowd at Mass.

And if my classmates find themselves reading my blog they may find amusing, my attempt to guide anyone in spiritual discipline, not to mention literary development. Yes I count my writings as works of literature, humble old me.

Unlike all previous reunions there was a noticeable change, an opening up, in the social dynamics. It led to reflections on how much our institution influenced who I am today. I saw how everyone there, though I saw little of most over the years, are an integral part what makes me me.

Listening to stories shared or overheard, it was often no surprise, remembering them from the way back, the current dynamics of their lives; their life experiences.

Not to put anyone on the spot but who would you expect to have... never mind.

Some are living lives you would never have expected.

A goodly crowd of my classmates had, over the years, kept continuous links with each other and the institution we attended. Stories of high school far fresher in their minds and flowing free I felt my brain deficient as it took quite a while for such memories to rise to the forefront of my thoughts.

Could they have formed some secret society and left me out of the loop? The plot thickens.

A history of relationships with institutions, groups, family and individuals, some watched from the outside in, make up who anyone is or could be in regards to building fictional characters.

Do I possess any talent, powers of observation, that makes me superior at understanding such dynamics? Do I hold any skill at all in communicating my insights in an intelligible and productive fashion more than any other? (Can you read my thoughts?)

Does, can my writing move people?

Questions I ask myself as I encounter soft leather briefcases scattered about our home filled with notebooks of fairly developed drafts, of works never published.

I hope you, my readers found some value in this reading and that my lateness did not cause any stress or worry. All is fine at home as it stands.

Thank you very much for reading.

A story that will move you.