Writing Roots 1 - Shoes
Writing Roots 1- Shoes
We all have a beginning, as humble as it may be. We all have to start someplace, and usually with some coaching or external motivation. By 1970, I went from 6th grade at Lillian C. Schmitt Elementary Elementary School to being a freshman at Northside Junior High School, a big change from going two more blocks down the street from the elementary school. I was a longer walk. I had as my English teacher, Mr. (Donald) Ray. We did the journal thing, and a poem about shoes was another assignment. He saw more than that and encouraged me to write more. He didn’t know what he started. The poem was later published that school year. I re-typed it from a surviving typed page used as a master for a ditto machine (remember those and the fluid smelled so good). Wherever he his, Thanks for seeing beyond a few foolish words.
From The Northside News, Northside Junior High School, Columbus, Indiana, Before March, 24, 1970 (page 7)
My Shoes—
Look like they forgot
to pay dues.
They are sore.
They are poor.
My shoes aren’t good.
I would like to throw them away if I could.
Those are my shoes.
Later, I updated the poem, as a ninth grader, and it, too, was published in the Northside News, Page 9, date unknown , 1972
My Shoes
My shoes
Are green and white,
And they’re quite a sight.
Those are my Shoes,
My shoes
Are every bright
And Are And full of might
Those are my shoes.
My shoes
Are very old.
They’re soiled from our very sod.
Those are my shoes.
My shoes
Are made of wood
And are very.very very good
Those are my shoes.
My shoes
Make me very mad
Because they look very sad.
Are those my shoes?
I had written other poems, and I still had journals to write. The subject worked once before, so I tried it again. This version also got in Northside News, 1972.
My Tennis Shoes
I thought I was so poor
When I walked through the door
With my torn up “white” tennis shoes.
As time went by, I begged Dad more
To take me to the tennis shoe store.
So he got rich by getting a loan.
And I got my orange tennis shoes.
Now that I have my orange tennis shoes,
I like them very much, and I run
Through the neighborhood
And through the puddles and such.
I run through the many fields,
And fall in their small holes.
I run in the baseball and football fields,
And score many goals.
I have a good time in my orange tennis shoes,
And they follow me wherever I go.
I event wear them in the snow.
I’m glad I went to the orange tennis shoe store.
Here are another gems from that year.
A Fake and a Fool
The Northside News, page 8, unknown date, 1972
When I took a test
And didn’t know what to do;
I ran to the nurse’s office
And pretended I had the flu.
My parents rushed me home
And threw me into bed.
The thermometer said
was sick.
“Of course, I’m sick,” I said
As soon as the test was over,
I sprinted back to school.
Whenever you play hookey
You always end up a fool.
The God of Love
Northside News, 1972
Far way in a strange land
I met a stranger who was
alone playing in the sand.
I knew not who he was,
but he gave me a clue.
He gave me a look, a look
that everybody knew.
It was a look that
seemed like passing time.
It was a look that was a
real as a dime.
It was a look of hope and love.
A smile is the look I
was speaking of.
He gave me another clue.
He wrote it in the sand.
It was a verse I now know
like the back of my hand.
“When love wasn’t here long ago,
I came here to let it flow,
But the people are gone
And my job is done.
He was the God of Love.
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