Words

The power of the spoken word or the mighty slash of the pen, words carry meaning and weight beyond their meager intentions.  In moments of unadulterated joy or unspeakable grief, they can soothe and calm the troubled spirit or bring a depth of meaning to the moment. 

When I was a girl, I knew I loved books and stories.  There is a timeless need for tale-telling and folklore.  For some of us, the need dissipates over time, but for the rest of us, a good book is as necessary as sunlight and oxygen.   I understood from a young age that a simple flick of the wrist and turning of a page could take me away from my present and into a world where anything was possible.  My mother would take me on Saturday afternoons to a little bookstore next to Zayre's in Chicopee and there we would browse the shelves for hours or sometimes just a few moments.  We would leave with our white paper bags in hand, a tiny world hiding in between the pages, ready to be discovered.

I have witnessed, as you surely have as well,  the power of angry words or words misunderstood or mis-used.  Words tossed from the corner of a mouth or dug from a place deep within one's soul, they all have a lasting effect.  Too often, its the thoughtless ones we remember rather than the ones hardest to say or hear. I have had the great experience of seeing heads nodding and weepy smiles of family members who understood what I wrote completely and known that in that tiny moment, I got something right.  I also know that every time I sit at a desk and tap out whatever comes to mind, I'm usually writing for them.  Every writer writes for someone.  For me, its my parents, my brothers and sisters, my children and my Aaron.  I am always surprised when someone outside the circle mentions my writing.  In my mind I'm thinking, "Oh! Jane! You got that too! You read my stuff?!"  It never ceases to amaze me.

I wish I knew twenty years ago what I know now.  That for me, there is no other way of being in the world than to be a writer. I wonder if I knew, if my life would have taken a different path?  I lacked confidence as a teenager, but I like to think that if I knew I could it, I would have taken the chance.  Who really knows though?  And besides, life is pretty damn terrific just the way it is.

This blog was an outlet for me for the past five years and I kidded myself into thinking I had to break away.  What I needed was to focus.   To figure out what should be here and what shouldn't. What you will find here are words.  I know photos sell and bring about page hits, but I'm no photographer. And I never really cared about page hits anyhow.

I won't post as often as I used to.  The new iteration of this page will be more about stories and words and ideas and poetry than it will be about my personal life.  I hope you enjoy the new Growing Up Granby and that you find something of yourself in the stories that I hope to tell. 

Thank you for visiting,

Jennifer