A series of essays….
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THE JAGGED EDGES OF MY PENCIL REMIND ME OF AN ALLIGATOR READY TO STRIKE! |
….as seen through my eyes!
By: Jacqueline E Hughes
I broke my pencil today. Yes, snapped it right in two and the jagged edges surrounding the previously encased graphite and clay wand remind me of gator teeth exposed before the fatal bite.
You see, there is a history here of my constantly breaking, at least, the point of a newly sharpened No.2. I was never a dainty writer. Guess I felt that the harder I pressed down on the paper, the more meaning my notes, story, report, outline, list of things to do, would take on. They would become so embedded within the fibers of each page, plain or lined, that my written thoughts would darken the pages and come alive.
As a kid growing-up in the fifties, many things were broken along the way. Finger nails, blackened and jagged from digging in the rich Indiana soil while making villages and trails for my Indian (Native American) plastic friends, was a biggie. Their spotted ponies would prance down the narrow trails, kicking-up a small cloud of dust on their way to the moveable hunting grounds.
Some toys were carelessly played with and, eventually, broken. Very much my bad… Crayons, all imaginable colors, would break in half from constant use. Putting them back into their box was difficult after that. Mom got a small shoebox out and told us to put all broken crayons inside. We would use them again, soon enough. I could never keep the black one whole even if I tried. I had to outline everything I colored in black before coloring inside the lines. It was like finding the straight edges of a puzzle first and then putting them together before any interior pieces. I guess I required stability and order in my life.
Should I even mention the if you stepped on a crack, you’d break your mother’s back phase? It became a private hell just walking down the few city blocks to the local drugstore to buy a popsicle treat during the hot summer months. The sidewalks were littered with all kinds of cracks!
We moved to Terre Haute, Indiana, when I was going on eleven. It was summertime and my brother and I were trying to impress the neighborhood kids. Perhaps I was showing off a bit, but—I broke my arm when I fell off my new bike. It wasn’t as simple as that. I’d decided that navigating my bike without hands and with my feet up on the handlebars was so cool. Ultimately, I was wrong. In the end, all of the kids signed my cast, though.
I broke a garage window of the rental house we lived in that same summer(before the bike debacle). It was a grand slam home run for my team, by the way. Even street ball has its glory moments!
Promises to a friend were never broken in my estimation. High School friends, male and female, were like the soldiers that guarded your life, your secrets, your raison d’être, never to be taken lightly or for granted. We were the glue that kept a very fragile and vulnerable world together for four years. We worked hard and played even harder and created memories to last a lifetime.
I broke my mother’s heart (at least) once. I yelled at her for not letting me have my way. If you knew my mom at all, raising my voice to her was the equivalent of committing a mortal sin. Hugging her later while apologizing could not erase my guilt.
I broke a favorite tea kettle of one of my apartment roommates while in college. Tried to compensate her with a new one—that didn’t go over very well.
My husband wasn’t very happy with me when I decided to back the car around within our large driveway without realizing that our second vehicle was parked beside but just a bit behind me. Seeing the two broken rear lights and dented rear fenders of both cars will haunt me forever.
Things do get broken along this journey we call life. Sometimes we are able to put them back together, somehow and in someway. Sometimes, we cannot. It’s always been my way of thinking that, at least, we should always give it our best shot and go for it. At some point, what do we have to lose?
Today, when we hear that our country is broken, I think back to broken No.2’s, a wrist enveloped in a white cast, a broken pink fingernail before going out on a date, and broken pieces of plastic taillight covers resting on a paved driveway. It’s difficult to imagine a nation of fellow Americans living within a country that has broken ideals, laws, and elected officials who have not and never will have your safety and best interests in mind! It’s very clear that when we stop helping each other and stop watching one another’s back, we become broken. When greed, selfishness, and indifference take precedence over our lives, we have stepped over to the dark side, forgetting the importance of all living beings around us, including ourselves.
I agree, our country is breaking apart every single day when lives are gunned down within institutions that are meant to make us feel safe. When young children are murdered while seated at their school desks alongside fellow classmates. The majority of us feel the pain of each parent who buries his/her child after losing them in such a hateful manner.
And, after all of these needless gun related tragedies, our government has not banned assault guns from being sold to anyone who wants one. Our system, at least, is broken. When gun lobbyists, their pockets full of money, persuade legislators that a growing bank account is mightier than life itself—WE. ARE. BROKEN.
As a child, like most of us, I took comfort in the leadership of the adults around me; trusting in them to protect and sustain me from a scraped and bloody knee to placing food on the table when I was hungry. Childhood is a magical, almost mystical time with flying dragons and invisible friends comforting us along this brief journey called youth. To devalue this time by not protecting our children from ‘a bad person with an assault gun’ is sacrilegious in every respect. Shame on all of us.
Can broken things be repaired, made whole once again? As I said before, what do we have to lose? The answer is with lots of hard work, a unified way of thinking, and respect for our fellow human beings…I think we can fix this. But, we all have to want to fix it.
Now that my newly sharpened No.2 has graduated to a keyboard attached to an i-Pad, I still press down hard on each key as if I’m implanting my deepest thoughts and desires onto the small, white screen. In protest and solidarity I write what I feel in my heart and pass it on to you. Today I am asking all of us to do our part and snap the selfish attitude of all politicians with a giant chomp of the mighty gator and abolish the power of gun lobbyists for good! Make our voices heard from near and far. Stand up to the powerful by being, at least, as powerful, if not more so. We can do it..together!
Let’s not sit in our comfy chairs and say that this country we know and love is broken without adding that all things broken can and should be fixed once again. This should include healing our souls, as well. I refuse to believe it can’t be done because I know in my heart, as do you, that with the power invested in us as loving individuals, we can be and are stronger than those who seek to break this land we call…Home.
Copyright © 2023 by Jacqueline E Hughes
All rights reserved
