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re: Things I need around Me: My Box of Words

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Message 11 of 15
In Response to Things I need around Me: My Box of Words:

 


 

 


My Box of Words


By….RaeDi © 2008

 

When I was young, I loved to draw. I would draw anything and everything. I would tape together with my Mom’s help typing paper to make a large drawing surface and would draw one of my favorite things, the earth from the globe sitting in our home library. I knew where everything was. I could not in the beginning read the words or know what each country was or where. However, I could draw a complete Atlas type picture showing everything that the globe showed, in minute details. My Mom would use a type of wall putty that she would hang the newest of maps on my wall, until I finished yet another one to replace it. I cannot tell you how I decided which maps that I drew would go into my word box and which ones I would give away, usually to my Grandpa Charlie when he came to visit. He would study it and show me everywhere he had been and where our family had come from and where they lived while on this earth. I found it so exciting to know that we had lived in so many places on my maps. When he departed after each visit, he would take the maps I had drawn, and I gave him many other pictures I had drawn, just for him. Those drawings were the pictures of things I knew Grandpa Charlie would love. We loved walking up to the twin parks and sitting on a bench and watching the cars and people go by. I remember drawing a picture of our bench and the trees in the park, and one was of the gazebo. He loved flowers so I would take hours drawing a perfect peony or dahlia; I knew he loved both of those flowers. Barns and country roads too, it was easy to know what to draw for Grandpa Charlie.

However, more important than my drawings was my box of words. My Grandpa Charlie had made me a special box of wood for my drawing and my cherished words. It was a big size for me when I was young. It was bigger than one of my dresser drawers. I kept it under my side of the bed. He had made it for me so my special things would always be safe.  I did not think I would ever have enough drawing or words to fill the box. How naive I was at the time.

After I started school, I learned my love of words was far greater than I could have imagined they could be. My first love, besides Sally, Dick, and Jane was the Weekly Reader that we got each week. From the very first week in school, I fell in love with this wonderful magazine full of information from around the world. I soon realized that my maps and my Weekly Readers were as one to me. At a very young age, I had started to make a list of the things I learned in my Weekly Reader, the list was of all the things I would someday go, visit, and see for myself. 

I soon learned reading opened up so many doors. I was learning so much about all the places I had drawn when I could not read. The words filled in my map with color. I soon found that I had a love of poetry and putting words together made for brilliant reading. I would look up where these authors lived on the globe. I would also take the time to write down the stories and poems and meticulously draw any illustrations that came with the poem or story. I would put these in my box of words. I had kept my Weekly Readers in this box, until I realized that I would need the space for my precious words and my special art the one I painstakingly had to pick what to keep and what I could give away. 

I started adding my words to my word box before I could really read for myself. If I heard a poem or story, I would ask to see it and copy everything precisely as it was in the book. I would write down who wrote the words that touched my soul. I kept a list of authors and artists in my box of words. Over the years, the box was reaching the point of having little room to add anything more. I have tried to part with some of it, but I have become so attached to each of these words. I have gone through this box countless times to retrieve some words that I would remember to share with others I thought would enjoy them as much as myself. These words have grown with me, they have fashioned my life and my soul. My art and its style are because of these words. The list that I made as a very young child reading the wonderful words in the Weekly Readers so long ago, I have gone and seen everything on this list but for one thing. I have seen the Concorde. I have had my picture taken next to the Saguaro’s that were so much bigger than I could have imagined, and seen that the desert is so alive with life I had no idea. I have seen the glaciers of blue in Alaska, the turquoise color water off the Islands of Hawaii.  The whales, I have seen more than I could possibly have dreamt of seeing.  I have been to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Seen Big Ben and the London Bridge, and what did I think when I saw it, the song London Bridge is falling down. I saved so much about our founding fathers, and I have visited each of their homes. I have climbed mountain high, and hot deserts low. I have walked by the rivers edges and valleys deep. I have seen the Mona Lisa, The Thinker, been to countless museums in countless countries and continents. I have gone to the theater from Broadway NYC to Paris, all because of my love of words. It all started with my simple love of drawing, and my Weekly Reader. The one place left on my list. Australia. The Kangaroo and the Koala Bear are what I have not seen that I put on my list of things to do so many years ago. In this box, I have put souvenirs (menus, handouts of plays, and movie tickets, pictures and so much more) of the places I have been with the list of things I wanted to do in this lifetime. In this box is the last letters my Grandpa Charlie wrote me and some very special letters and cards from my sister Jacquie that just passed a year ago. I have saved letters from other loved ones and special little paper art from my children. I found I saved the footprints of my twins when they were born. Their feet were just over an inch long when they made an early entrance into this world.  

My box of words, started as a very young girl, I could not yet read. It has moved with me from the Midwest to the Southeast. To the Northeast and again back down to the Southeast. Then it made it long journey with me to the Great Northwest. She has never been left behind, never out of my site. She was the first thing to go into the truck for our journey to each of our new homes. I did not trust the movers with my precious box of words. This box of words is my life it is my soul. It will be with me until the day my soul passes this world to the next. I do hope that my children will realize how much of me is in that old box of words, they each one are a part of me. 

To lose my box of words would be to lose my sense of self, my true bearings. It has made me me, it has matured my soul from a very young age. It has kept my eyes open and my heart beating, and even taken my breath away a few times. I have never been disappointed in my box of words. It has made my eyes see everything, my ears hear everything, and my hearts beat with all the adventures and beauty, my hands feel and even draw all this from the words of description I hold in my box of words. I could smell the flowers or the salt in the air from the words that I read. To feel the love, despair, laughter, and the sounds the words described and the colors, they each and all were alive to me at the moment of reading my words. My adventures have taken me around the world and back again. My box of words has been my soul keeper. I think I can say without pause, my box of words is I. I could not be without it, in all these years I could not say how many times I have been in and out of my box of words. Nevertheless, I have always held these papers, pictures with lightness, a grace, pure gentleness; I did not want to lose one word or drawing. The words were in a way a map to my world. All from drawing maps as a child that I could not yet read the words, these words I would love from the very beginning. My box of words is I. 

 

 


 

RaeDi, I love this story. It reminds me so much of my own fascination with the world as a child (which I've carried into adulthood!). Reading your words brings all of that wonderment back to my mind's foreground--thank you!

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Message 12 of 15
In Response to Things I need around Me: My Box of Words:

 


 

 


My Box of Words


By….RaeDi © 2008

 

When I was young, I loved to draw. I would draw anything and everything. I would tape together with my Mom’s help typing paper to make a large drawing surface and would draw one of my favorite things, the earth from the globe sitting in our home library. I knew where everything was. I could not in the beginning read the words or know what each country was or where. However, I could draw a complete Atlas type picture showing everything that the globe showed, in minute details. My Mom would use a type of wall putty that she would hang the newest of maps on my wall, until I finished yet another one to replace it. I cannot tell you how I decided which maps that I drew would go into my word box and which ones I would give away, usually to my Grandpa Charlie when he came to visit. He would study it and show me everywhere he had been and where our family had come from and where they lived while on this earth. I found it so exciting to know that we had lived in so many places on my maps. When he departed after each visit, he would take the maps I had drawn, and I gave him many other pictures I had drawn, just for him. Those drawings were the pictures of things I knew Grandpa Charlie would love. We loved walking up to the twin parks and sitting on a bench and watching the cars and people go by. I remember drawing a picture of our bench and the trees in the park, and one was of the gazebo. He loved flowers so I would take hours drawing a perfect peony or dahlia; I knew he loved both of those flowers. Barns and country roads too, it was easy to know what to draw for Grandpa Charlie.

However, more important than my drawings was my box of words. My Grandpa Charlie had made me a special box of wood for my drawing and my cherished words. It was a big size for me when I was young. It was bigger than one of my dresser drawers. I kept it under my side of the bed. He had made it for me so my special things would always be safe.  I did not think I would ever have enough drawing or words to fill the box. How naive I was at the time.

After I started school, I learned my love of words was far greater than I could have imagined they could be. My first love, besides Sally, Dick, and Jane was the Weekly Reader that we got each week. From the very first week in school, I fell in love with this wonderful magazine full of information from around the world. I soon realized that my maps and my Weekly Readers were as one to me. At a very young age, I had started to make a list of the things I learned in my Weekly Reader, the list was of all the things I would someday go, visit, and see for myself. 

I soon learned reading opened up so many doors. I was learning so much about all the places I had drawn when I could not read. The words filled in my map with color. I soon found that I had a love of poetry and putting words together made for brilliant reading. I would look up where these authors lived on the globe. I would also take the time to write down the stories and poems and meticulously draw any illustrations that came with the poem or story. I would put these in my box of words. I had kept my Weekly Readers in this box, until I realized that I would need the space for my precious words and my special art the one I painstakingly had to pick what to keep and what I could give away. 

I started adding my words to my word box before I could really read for myself. If I heard a poem or story, I would ask to see it and copy everything precisely as it was in the book. I would write down who wrote the words that touched my soul. I kept a list of authors and artists in my box of words. Over the years, the box was reaching the point of having little room to add anything more. I have tried to part with some of it, but I have become so attached to each of these words. I have gone through this box countless times to retrieve some words that I would remember to share with others I thought would enjoy them as much as myself. These words have grown with me, they have fashioned my life and my soul. My art and its style are because of these words. The list that I made as a very young child reading the wonderful words in the Weekly Readers so long ago, I have gone and seen everything on this list but for one thing. I have seen the Concorde. I have had my picture taken next to the Saguaro’s that were so much bigger than I could have imagined, and seen that the desert is so alive with life I had no idea. I have seen the glaciers of blue in Alaska, the turquoise color water off the Islands of Hawaii.  The whales, I have seen more than I could possibly have dreamt of seeing.  I have been to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Seen Big Ben and the London Bridge, and what did I think when I saw it, the song London Bridge is falling down. I saved so much about our founding fathers, and I have visited each of their homes. I have climbed mountain high, and hot deserts low. I have walked by the rivers edges and valleys deep. I have seen the Mona Lisa, The Thinker, been to countless museums in countless countries and continents. I have gone to the theater from Broadway NYC to Paris, all because of my love of words. It all started with my simple love of drawing, and my Weekly Reader. The one place left on my list. Australia. The Kangaroo and the Koala Bear are what I have not seen that I put on my list of things to do so many years ago. In this box, I have put souvenirs (menus, handouts of plays, and movie tickets, pictures and so much more) of the places I have been with the list of things I wanted to do in this lifetime. In this box is the last letters my Grandpa Charlie wrote me and some very special letters and cards from my sister Jacquie that just passed a year ago. I have saved letters from other loved ones and special little paper art from my children. I found I saved the footprints of my twins when they were born. Their feet were just over an inch long when they made an early entrance into this world.  

My box of words, started as a very young girl, I could not yet read. It has moved with me from the Midwest to the Southeast. To the Northeast and again back down to the Southeast. Then it made it long journey with me to the Great Northwest. She has never been left behind, never out of my site. She was the first thing to go into the truck for our journey to each of our new homes. I did not trust the movers with my precious box of words. This box of words is my life it is my soul. It will be with me until the day my soul passes this world to the next. I do hope that my children will realize how much of me is in that old box of words, they each one are a part of me. 

To lose my box of words would be to lose my sense of self, my true bearings. It has made me me, it has matured my soul from a very young age. It has kept my eyes open and my heart beating, and even taken my breath away a few times. I have never been disappointed in my box of words. It has made my eyes see everything, my ears hear everything, and my hearts beat with all the adventures and beauty, my hands feel and even draw all this from the words of description I hold in my box of words. I could smell the flowers or the salt in the air from the words that I read. To feel the love, despair, laughter, and the sounds the words described and the colors, they each and all were alive to me at the moment of reading my words. My adventures have taken me around the world and back again. My box of words has been my soul keeper. I think I can say without pause, my box of words is I. I could not be without it, in all these years I could not say how many times I have been in and out of my box of words. Nevertheless, I have always held these papers, pictures with lightness, a grace, pure gentleness; I did not want to lose one word or drawing. The words were in a way a map to my world. All from drawing maps as a child that I could not yet read the words, these words I would love from the very beginning. My box of words is I. 

 

 


 

what a unique way of looking at your past--I want a box of words! You've had such great adventures, and what forethought and sense of purpose to go from Weekly Readers to world travel.

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re: Things I need around Me: My Box of Words

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Message 13 of 15
In Response to Things I need around Me: My Box of Words:

 


 

 


My Box of Words


By….RaeDi © 2008

 

When I was young, I loved to draw. I would draw anything and everything. I would tape together with my Mom’s help typing paper to make a large drawing surface and would draw one of my favorite things, the earth from the globe sitting in our home library. I knew where everything was. I could not in the beginning read the words or know what each country was or where. However, I could draw a complete Atlas type picture showing everything that the globe showed, in minute details. My Mom would use a type of wall putty that she would hang the newest of maps on my wall, until I finished yet another one to replace it. I cannot tell you how I decided which maps that I drew would go into my word box and which ones I would give away, usually to my Grandpa Charlie when he came to visit. He would study it and show me everywhere he had been and where our family had come from and where they lived while on this earth. I found it so exciting to know that we had lived in so many places on my maps. When he departed after each visit, he would take the maps I had drawn, and I gave him many other pictures I had drawn, just for him. Those drawings were the pictures of things I knew Grandpa Charlie would love. We loved walking up to the twin parks and sitting on a bench and watching the cars and people go by. I remember drawing a picture of our bench and the trees in the park, and one was of the gazebo. He loved flowers so I would take hours drawing a perfect peony or dahlia; I knew he loved both of those flowers. Barns and country roads too, it was easy to know what to draw for Grandpa Charlie.

However, more important than my drawings was my box of words. My Grandpa Charlie had made me a special box of wood for my drawing and my cherished words. It was a big size for me when I was young. It was bigger than one of my dresser drawers. I kept it under my side of the bed. He had made it for me so my special things would always be safe.  I did not think I would ever have enough drawing or words to fill the box. How naive I was at the time.

After I started school, I learned my love of words was far greater than I could have imagined they could be. My first love, besides Sally, Dick, and Jane was the Weekly Reader that we got each week. From the very first week in school, I fell in love with this wonderful magazine full of information from around the world. I soon realized that my maps and my Weekly Readers were as one to me. At a very young age, I had started to make a list of the things I learned in my Weekly Reader, the list was of all the things I would someday go, visit, and see for myself. 

I soon learned reading opened up so many doors. I was learning so much about all the places I had drawn when I could not read. The words filled in my map with color. I soon found that I had a love of poetry and putting words together made for brilliant reading. I would look up where these authors lived on the globe. I would also take the time to write down the stories and poems and meticulously draw any illustrations that came with the poem or story. I would put these in my box of words. I had kept my Weekly Readers in this box, until I realized that I would need the space for my precious words and my special art the one I painstakingly had to pick what to keep and what I could give away. 

I started adding my words to my word box before I could really read for myself. If I heard a poem or story, I would ask to see it and copy everything precisely as it was in the book. I would write down who wrote the words that touched my soul. I kept a list of authors and artists in my box of words. Over the years, the box was reaching the point of having little room to add anything more. I have tried to part with some of it, but I have become so attached to each of these words. I have gone through this box countless times to retrieve some words that I would remember to share with others I thought would enjoy them as much as myself. These words have grown with me, they have fashioned my life and my soul. My art and its style are because of these words. The list that I made as a very young child reading the wonderful words in the Weekly Readers so long ago, I have gone and seen everything on this list but for one thing. I have seen the Concorde. I have had my picture taken next to the Saguaro’s that were so much bigger than I could have imagined, and seen that the desert is so alive with life I had no idea. I have seen the glaciers of blue in Alaska, the turquoise color water off the Islands of Hawaii.  The whales, I have seen more than I could possibly have dreamt of seeing.  I have been to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Seen Big Ben and the London Bridge, and what did I think when I saw it, the song London Bridge is falling down. I saved so much about our founding fathers, and I have visited each of their homes. I have climbed mountain high, and hot deserts low. I have walked by the rivers edges and valleys deep. I have seen the Mona Lisa, The Thinker, been to countless museums in countless countries and continents. I have gone to the theater from Broadway NYC to Paris, all because of my love of words. It all started with my simple love of drawing, and my Weekly Reader. The one place left on my list. Australia. The Kangaroo and the Koala Bear are what I have not seen that I put on my list of things to do so many years ago. In this box, I have put souvenirs (menus, handouts of plays, and movie tickets, pictures and so much more) of the places I have been with the list of things I wanted to do in this lifetime. In this box is the last letters my Grandpa Charlie wrote me and some very special letters and cards from my sister Jacquie that just passed a year ago. I have saved letters from other loved ones and special little paper art from my children. I found I saved the footprints of my twins when they were born. Their feet were just over an inch long when they made an early entrance into this world.  

My box of words, started as a very young girl, I could not yet read. It has moved with me from the Midwest to the Southeast. To the Northeast and again back down to the Southeast. Then it made it long journey with me to the Great Northwest. She has never been left behind, never out of my site. She was the first thing to go into the truck for our journey to each of our new homes. I did not trust the movers with my precious box of words. This box of words is my life it is my soul. It will be with me until the day my soul passes this world to the next. I do hope that my children will realize how much of me is in that old box of words, they each one are a part of me. 

To lose my box of words would be to lose my sense of self, my true bearings. It has made me me, it has matured my soul from a very young age. It has kept my eyes open and my heart beating, and even taken my breath away a few times. I have never been disappointed in my box of words. It has made my eyes see everything, my ears hear everything, and my hearts beat with all the adventures and beauty, my hands feel and even draw all this from the words of description I hold in my box of words. I could smell the flowers or the salt in the air from the words that I read. To feel the love, despair, laughter, and the sounds the words described and the colors, they each and all were alive to me at the moment of reading my words. My adventures have taken me around the world and back again. My box of words has been my soul keeper. I think I can say without pause, my box of words is I. I could not be without it, in all these years I could not say how many times I have been in and out of my box of words. Nevertheless, I have always held these papers, pictures with lightness, a grace, pure gentleness; I did not want to lose one word or drawing. The words were in a way a map to my world. All from drawing maps as a child that I could not yet read the words, these words I would love from the very beginning. My box of words is I. 

 

 


 

I am enthralled by your words.  The experiences you have had are the continuing chapters of this first writing?  You have much to say, and I cant wait to read it.  Well done, sister in words


 

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Things I need around Me: My Box of Words

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Message 14 of 15

 


 

 


My Box of Words


By….RaeDi © 2008

 

When I was young, I loved to draw. I would draw anything and everything. I would tape together with my Mom’s help typing paper to make a large drawing surface and would draw one of my favorite things, the earth from the globe sitting in our home library. I knew where everything was. I could not in the beginning read the words or know what each country was or where. However, I could draw a complete Atlas type picture showing everything that the globe showed, in minute details. My Mom would use a type of wall putty that she would hang the newest of maps on my wall, until I finished yet another one to replace it. I cannot tell you how I decided which maps that I drew would go into my word box and which ones I would give away, usually to my Grandpa Charlie when he came to visit. He would study it and show me everywhere he had been and where our family had come from and where they lived while on this earth. I found it so exciting to know that we had lived in so many places on my maps. When he departed after each visit, he would take the maps I had drawn, and I gave him many other pictures I had drawn, just for him. Those drawings were the pictures of things I knew Grandpa Charlie would love. We loved walking up to the twin parks and sitting on a bench and watching the cars and people go by. I remember drawing a picture of our bench and the trees in the park, and one was of the gazebo. He loved flowers so I would take hours drawing a perfect peony or dahlia; I knew he loved both of those flowers. Barns and country roads too, it was easy to know what to draw for Grandpa Charlie.

However, more important than my drawings was my box of words. My Grandpa Charlie had made me a special box of wood for my drawing and my cherished words. It was a big size for me when I was young. It was bigger than one of my dresser drawers. I kept it under my side of the bed. He had made it for me so my special things would always be safe.  I did not think I would ever have enough drawing or words to fill the box. How naive I was at the time.

After I started school, I learned my love of words was far greater than I could have imagined they could be. My first love, besides Sally, Dick, and Jane was the Weekly Reader that we got each week. From the very first week in school, I fell in love with this wonderful magazine full of information from around the world. I soon realized that my maps and my Weekly Readers were as one to me. At a very young age, I had started to make a list of the things I learned in my Weekly Reader, the list was of all the things I would someday go, visit, and see for myself. 

I soon learned reading opened up so many doors. I was learning so much about all the places I had drawn when I could not read. The words filled in my map with color. I soon found that I had a love of poetry and putting words together made for brilliant reading. I would look up where these authors lived on the globe. I would also take the time to write down the stories and poems and meticulously draw any illustrations that came with the poem or story. I would put these in my box of words. I had kept my Weekly Readers in this box, until I realized that I would need the space for my precious words and my special art the one I painstakingly had to pick what to keep and what I could give away. 

I started adding my words to my word box before I could really read for myself. If I heard a poem or story, I would ask to see it and copy everything precisely as it was in the book. I would write down who wrote the words that touched my soul. I kept a list of authors and artists in my box of words. Over the years, the box was reaching the point of having little room to add anything more. I have tried to part with some of it, but I have become so attached to each of these words. I have gone through this box countless times to retrieve some words that I would remember to share with others I thought would enjoy them as much as myself. These words have grown with me, they have fashioned my life and my soul. My art and its style are because of these words. The list that I made as a very young child reading the wonderful words in the Weekly Readers so long ago, I have gone and seen everything on this list but for one thing. I have seen the Concorde. I have had my picture taken next to the Saguaro’s that were so much bigger than I could have imagined, and seen that the desert is so alive with life I had no idea. I have seen the glaciers of blue in Alaska, the turquoise color water off the Islands of Hawaii.  The whales, I have seen more than I could possibly have dreamt of seeing.  I have been to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Seen Big Ben and the London Bridge, and what did I think when I saw it, the song London Bridge is falling down. I saved so much about our founding fathers, and I have visited each of their homes. I have climbed mountain high, and hot deserts low. I have walked by the rivers edges and valleys deep. I have seen the Mona Lisa, The Thinker, been to countless museums in countless countries and continents. I have gone to the theater from Broadway NYC to Paris, all because of my love of words. It all started with my simple love of drawing, and my Weekly Reader. The one place left on my list. Australia. The Kangaroo and the Koala Bear are what I have not seen that I put on my list of things to do so many years ago. In this box, I have put souvenirs (menus, handouts of plays, and movie tickets, pictures and so much more) of the places I have been with the list of things I wanted to do in this lifetime. In this box is the last letters my Grandpa Charlie wrote me and some very special letters and cards from my sister Jacquie that just passed a year ago. I have saved letters from other loved ones and special little paper art from my children. I found I saved the footprints of my twins when they were born. Their feet were just over an inch long when they made an early entrance into this world.  

My box of words, started as a very young girl, I could not yet read. It has moved with me from the Midwest to the Southeast. To the Northeast and again back down to the Southeast. Then it made it long journey with me to the Great Northwest. She has never been left behind, never out of my site. She was the first thing to go into the truck for our journey to each of our new homes. I did not trust the movers with my precious box of words. This box of words is my life it is my soul. It will be with me until the day my soul passes this world to the next. I do hope that my children will realize how much of me is in that old box of words, they each one are a part of me. 

To lose my box of words would be to lose my sense of self, my true bearings. It has made me me, it has matured my soul from a very young age. It has kept my eyes open and my heart beating, and even taken my breath away a few times. I have never been disappointed in my box of words. It has made my eyes see everything, my ears hear everything, and my hearts beat with all the adventures and beauty, my hands feel and even draw all this from the words of description I hold in my box of words. I could smell the flowers or the salt in the air from the words that I read. To feel the love, despair, laughter, and the sounds the words described and the colors, they each and all were alive to me at the moment of reading my words. My adventures have taken me around the world and back again. My box of words has been my soul keeper. I think I can say without pause, my box of words is I. I could not be without it, in all these years I could not say how many times I have been in and out of my box of words. Nevertheless, I have always held these papers, pictures with lightness, a grace, pure gentleness; I did not want to lose one word or drawing. The words were in a way a map to my world. All from drawing maps as a child that I could not yet read the words, these words I would love from the very beginning. My box of words is I. 

 

 


 

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Things I need around Me: My Box of Words

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My Box of Words


By….RaeDi © 2008

 

When I was young, I loved to draw. I would draw anything and everything. I would tape together with my Mom’s help typing paper to make a large drawing surface and would draw one of my favorite things, the earth from the globe sitting in our home library. I knew where everything was. I could not in the beginning read the words or know what each country was or where. However, I could draw a complete Atlas type picture showing everything that the globe showed, in minute details. My Mom would use a type of wall putty that she would hang the newest of maps on my wall, until I finished yet another one to replace it. I cannot tell you how I decided which maps that I drew would go into my word box and which ones I would give away, usually to my Grandpa Charlie when he came to visit. He would study it and show me everywhere he had been and where our family had come from and where they lived while on this earth. I found it so exciting to know that we had lived in so many places on my maps. When he departed after each visit, he would take the maps I had drawn, and I gave him many other pictures I had drawn, just for him. Those drawings were the pictures of things I knew Grandpa Charlie would love. We loved walking up to the twin parks and sitting on a bench and watching the cars and people go by. I remember drawing a picture of our bench and the trees in the park, and one was of the gazebo. He loved flowers so I would take hours drawing a perfect peony or dahlia; I knew he loved both of those flowers. Barns and country roads too, it was easy to know what to draw for Grandpa Charlie.

However, more important than my drawings was my box of words. My Grandpa Charlie had made me a special box of wood for my drawing and my cherished words. It was a big size for me when I was young. It was bigger than one of my dresser drawers. I kept it under my side of the bed. He had made it for me so my special things would always be safe.  I did not think I would ever have enough drawing or words to fill the box. How naive I was at the time.

After I started school, I learned my love of words was far greater than I could have imagined they could be. My first love, besides Sally, Dick, and Jane was the Weekly Reader that we got each week. From the very first week in school, I fell in love with this wonderful magazine full of information from around the world. I soon realized that my maps and my Weekly Readers were as one to me. At a very young age, I had started to make a list of the things I learned in my Weekly Reader, the list was of all the things I would someday go, visit, and see for myself. 

I soon learned reading opened up so many doors. I was learning so much about all the places I had drawn when I could not read. The words filled in my map with color. I soon found that I had a love of poetry and putting words together made for brilliant reading. I would look up where these authors lived on the globe. I would also take the time to write down the stories and poems and meticulously draw any illustrations that came with the poem or story. I would put these in my box of words. I had kept my Weekly Readers in this box, until I realized that I would need the space for my precious words and my special art the one I painstakingly had to pick what to keep and what I could give away. 

I started adding my words to my word box before I could really read for myself. If I heard a poem or story, I would ask to see it and copy everything precisely as it was in the book. I would write down who wrote the words that touched my soul. I kept a list of authors and artists in my box of words. Over the years, the box was reaching the point of having little room to add anything more. I have tried to part with some of it, but I have become so attached to each of these words. I have gone through this box countless times to retrieve some words that I would remember to share with others I thought would enjoy them as much as myself. These words have grown with me, they have fashioned my life and my soul. My art and its style are because of these words. The list that I made as a very young child reading the wonderful words in the Weekly Readers so long ago, I have gone and seen everything on this list but for one thing. I have seen the Concorde. I have had my picture taken next to the Saguaro’s that were so much bigger than I could have imagined, and seen that the desert is so alive with life I had no idea. I have seen the glaciers of blue in Alaska, the turquoise color water off the Islands of Hawaii.  The whales, I have seen more than I could possibly have dreamt of seeing.  I have been to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Seen Big Ben and the London Bridge, and what did I think when I saw it, the song London Bridge is falling down. I saved so much about our founding fathers, and I have visited each of their homes. I have climbed mountain high, and hot deserts low. I have walked by the rivers edges and valleys deep. I have seen the Mona Lisa, The Thinker, been to countless museums in countless countries and continents. I have gone to the theater from Broadway NYC to Paris, all because of my love of words. It all started with my simple love of drawing, and my Weekly Reader. The one place left on my list. Australia. The Kangaroo and the Koala Bear are what I have not seen that I put on my list of things to do so many years ago. In this box, I have put souvenirs (menus, handouts of plays, and movie tickets, pictures and so much more) of the places I have been with the list of things I wanted to do in this lifetime. In this box is the last letters my Grandpa Charlie wrote me and some very special letters and cards from my sister Jacquie that just passed a year ago. I have saved letters from other loved ones and special little paper art from my children. I found I saved the footprints of my twins when they were born. Their feet were just over an inch long when they made an early entrance into this world.  

My box of words, started as a very young girl, I could not yet read. It has moved with me from the Midwest to the Southeast. To the Northeast and again back down to the Southeast. Then it made it long journey with me to the Great Northwest. She has never been left behind, never out of my site. She was the first thing to go into the truck for our journey to each of our new homes. I did not trust the movers with my precious box of words. This box of words is my life it is my soul. It will be with me until the day my soul passes this world to the next. I do hope that my children will realize how much of me is in that old box of words, they each one are a part of me. 

To lose my box of words would be to lose my sense of self, my true bearings. It has made me me, it has matured my soul from a very young age. It has kept my eyes open and my heart beating, and even taken my breath away a few times. I have never been disappointed in my box of words. It has made my eyes see everything, my ears hear everything, and my hearts beat with all the adventures and beauty, my hands feel and even draw all this from the words of description I hold in my box of words. I could smell the flowers or the salt in the air from the words that I read. To feel the love, despair, laughter, and the sounds the words described and the colors, they each and all were alive to me at the moment of reading my words. My adventures have taken me around the world and back again. My box of words has been my soul keeper. I think I can say without pause, my box of words is I. I could not be without it, in all these years I could not say how many times I have been in and out of my box of words. Nevertheless, I have always held these papers, pictures with lightness, a grace, pure gentleness; I did not want to lose one word or drawing. The words were in a way a map to my world. All from drawing maps as a child that I could not yet read the words, these words I would love from the very beginning. My box of words is I. 

 

 


 

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