This is my 900th post. I’ve been recording the stories I heard as a child while listening to the adults in my life. My goal was to post every Wednesday and Sunday with no set end date. There’ve been a couple of hiccups, but I’ve been on target most of the time.
I started posting on November 19th, 2017, with no definitive objective other than to record stories I’d heard in my youth so my kids and grandkids would know how “it used to be”. Most of my original tales came from my dad, several uncles, and my Grandpa Barner, my mom’s father. Although I remember my Grandpa Tebo, I don’t recall him ever telling stories. I knew him as a quiet man.
Almost nine years have passed since that first post. I wrote most of what I remember during the first couple of years. Every once in a while, a new memory surfaces and I write about that. Somewhere along the way I started writing about current events: births, deaths, social issues, spiritual beliefs, political turmoil, and several pieces about my personal evolution brought about by those same topics.
I published a story called “500 Chunks” on September 4, 2022, just three weeks before Ruth’s accident. In that blog, I referenced War and Peace to draw a comparison between my work and something that has stood the test of time. I didn’t have control over what was happening around me, so I focused on sharing the things that personally affected me. The people in my life have had the biggest impact, and I’ve been fortunate to have several wonderful ones come my way.
500 Chunks was my 500th story. It was my attempt to explain the path I was on. I couldn’t know that Ruth’s loss would redirect my life as it has. A portion of that 500th story reads as follows:
I’d estimate I’ve written about 320,000 words, well short of War and Peace’s 587,287 or The Bible’s 783,137. If I continue at my current clip, I’ll catch War and Peace when I’m seventy-nine and The Bible about four years later. My writing isn’t about length but rather longevity.
I do a lot of pondering while driving and the other day, I decided most of us live our lives in chunks. Blocks of time spent with a common purpose. Some last years, some a few months, while others are made up of bits and pieces.
The first big chunk is childhood. You learn about sharing, taking turns, being cared for and caring for others. During adolescence we begin to develop our sexual self with a series of physical, psychological, and social transitions. And while many adolescents believe they know everything, they don’t. When I exhibited such an attitude, my mom called it getting too big for my britches.
Somewhere along the way we develop our independence. We make a series of decisions that will impact us forever. We decide if we’re going to continue our formal education, join the military, enter the world of work, or continue to mooch off our parents. All such decisions require a plan of action. Luck may have some minimal effect, but things happen because of the choices we make.
Google tells me that War and Peace was written by Leo Tolstoy, and it took him about six years to complete. The novel explores themes of war, peace, love, family, purpose, and the search for meaning. It challenges the idea that history is shaped by “great men,” instead highlighting the role of ordinary people and chance. I’ve never read the book, so I have to trust my friends at Google.
If my Google sources are correct, Tolstoy and I share a belief. Ordinary people often have the greatest impact on our lives. While the achievements of great men and women matter, it’s the everyday decisions we make that truly count. Ruth called these “choices.” We all have them, and we make them daily. Chance might open or close doors, but choice determines whether we step through and the meaning we find along the way. Chance may set the stage, but it’s our choices that give each moment its significance.
It took me almost nine years to match the number of words Tolstoy wrote in six. He was a deep thinker while I’m just a simple man writing a series of simple tales. He wrote a masterpiece and I’ve written about 900 small chunks of my life.
If I keep up the pace, I’ll match the number of words written in the Bible about the time I turn eighty-three. Google tells me that the Bible had around forty authors which included shepherds, kings, prophets, poets, fishermen, physicians, and apostles and its creation stretches across approximately 1,500 years. If that’s true, it took forty men 1,500 years to write what I hope to accomplish on my own in a mere thirteen.
Again, I haven’t read it, so I’ve got to trust the guys at Google. Even without reading it, I know it’s had a greater impact on mankind than my work. That doesn’t concern me though because my intended audience is you. I’m focused on my writing longevity and providing you with a bit of food for thought a couple times each week, rather than trying to produce great literature. I hope you keep reading one chunk at a time.