Two Christmas gifts I received seven years apart made it possible for me to become a writer. When I was a sophomore at Durand High School, I took typing in preparation for an office job after graduation. In December, my parents gave me a Royal portable typewriter. Later, I learned it was the first time they bought an item on time. I never knew why they purchased such an expensive present that I hadn’t even hinted I wanted but was thrilled to receive.
The first holiday after Ken and I were married, he suggested we give each other a 35 mm camera. I was pregnant and he wanted to be ready to take pictures of our future family.
Ten years later, our three kids were in school. I thought I could go back to work at an office job similar to the one I’d had before we were married. While reading the help wanted pages in the Rockford Morning Star, I was intrigued by the newspaper’s ad for a correspondent in the Durand community. I met with an editor and learned all I needed to be one of their part-time, freelance journalists was a typewriter and a 35 mm camera. Education or experience weren’t required. I reported on civic board meetings, chased fire trucks and wrote feature stories about people doing interesting things. I had found my calling. To enhance my writing skills, I read publications, attended workshops and joined professional organizations. Thirteen years later, the daily dropped all community correspondents. I pursued submitting articles to national farm, police and women’s magazines.
Our fiftieth wedding anniversary stirred memories of our seven-year courtship, which began with a Ferris wheel ride when I was fourteen and Ken was sixteen. I realized life on a family dairy farm during the 1950s was alien to people living in this new century. I wrote a memoir, The View from a Midwest Ferris Wheel, using my mother’s daily entries in her diary as a guide. It will be released by Adelaide Books, an independent New York City publisher.
Do you ever get the feeling that your life is preordained?