Ántonia had always been one to leave images in the mind that did not fade….
~ from My Ántonia
When I read the quote above, I immediately thought of the Writers at Harwood Place. Most of them are 90 years old or older. They are sharp, committed to the group, and their stories are full of memories and images that settle in hearts and minds.
Last weekend, my co-teacher Maura Fitzgerald and I hosted the Harwood Place Annual Writers Showcase (our 7th year!). This event always draws a crowd; it’s a highlight for me, Maura, these writers, and the friends and family who attend.
We met before Christmas to practice reading the pieces everyone wanted to share at the podium, and a few of them teared up as they read. The stories they share bring back vivid memories and also serve to honor people in the past who shaped and molded one or another of the writers around the table, people who left images in minds that do not easily fade. Each time I sit at the table, I am honored to be a part of this group.
Poet Katy Phillips visited our class a few months ago as a guest teacher and created a poem based on a writing exercise she ran with the group. She read her poem, “Where We Are From,”* at the beginning of our event as an introduction to these amazing men and women.
The day of the reading we had one writer missing, Chuck Moritz (right), a long-time member of the group and a pleasure to hear from each month. Chuck was unable to attend due to health reasons.
Knowing he would have been there otherwise, we left a chair up front for him and read his poem in honor of him, something he wrote several years ago to his mother on her 100th birthday. Chuck grew up during the Dust Bowl, and from all I heard and read about his mother, she was a rock in times of uncertainty and grief.
I’m so glad we were able to share his poem with the audience at Harwood Place that day. In the evening, I received an unexpected phone call that Chuck had passed away. Such a wonderful and generous man–in stories, in conversation, in spirit. We shared a special bond, too, as he and I were born on the same day, 46 years apart. I can’t begin to explain the energy he brought to the group and how much he will be missed.
*”Where We Are From” is based on a great exercise for gathering bits and pieces from family or friends around a table during a holiday, or any time of year really.
“I entered this house a new baby, coming home from the hospital in 1922. I wonder how many people have planted trees and built rock gardens in the yard and told stories in this layered house since then? I would walk right down to the bakery on Vliet Street (was it Meurers?) and bring back cupcakes for all of us to enjoy. Or walk up to Washington Boulevard and take the bus downtown to Wisconsin Avenue. Somehow there must be a way to bridge the magic fog between then and now.”