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The Reading at Harwood Place: People in Community

Last Saturday, residents and friends gathered in the community room at Harwood Place to listen to the Writers of Harwood read stories they’d written over the last year. This is the sixth year we’ve done the reading event, and it’s a thrill to see each writer take to the podium and share their work. As always, listening to them read you can also hear reactions in the audience–affirmations of connection and deep sighs of remembrance. Because each story as written and shared by the author stirs memories and emotions from the listener. In those moments, connections are made and community deepened.

  • The Writers of 2019
    Front row left to right: Carolou, Ruth, Val, Mary Back row: Maura, Toni, Marion, Chuck, Betty, Christi
    (Not pictured but in the audience, Richard and Geri)

This event, and the anthology, could not have happened without the help of several people. Thank you to Harwood Place for giving us the space (and the refreshments!) for the reading, to my husband for taking the photos, to the friends and family who came out to support these lovely writers, and to my fearless co-leader, Maura Fitzgerald, who bore the brunt of the anthology layout & publication work (and did it with grace and a smile).

As these writers change, so do the dynamics of teaching and leading them. But one fact remains: no matter who you are, how young or old you are, your stories make all the difference to the people around you.

In my “I’ve got the podium” photo on the right, I seem to be stressing that very point: Put #PenToPaper! The hardest part is getting to the table.

Once you’re there and surrounded by your community, the writing comes a little easier.

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Inside | Outside, The Reading: Community in Action

Inside | Outside, the most recent anthology of work by the writers at Harwood Place, made its humble debut last Saturday. In front of a full house, the authors each gave a stellar reading of their pieces from the podium. They spoke with ease and with grace, and one spoke for a writer who was unable to attend.

Earlier in the week, I received a phone call from a long-time participant, Richard, who said he couldn’t make it. He’d been down and out for the last several weeks, was recuperating well, but knew he would not be at the event. This reading highlights our year as writers together, so I understood, even before he said it, that missing the afternoon was a great disappointment. For all of us, really. Richard is the patriarch of the group–and he’s quite tall; his absence would be a void. So we did the next best thing: looked for someone to stand in for him and read what he had written.

Finding a proxy didn’t take long. Richard is not only a leader in the group but a good friend to many and a cheerful spirit for all. I had a response to an email request within an hour and assurance that his piece would not be left out. But what happened next speaks even more to the heart and temperament of this group.

As is my custom at these events, I run around sweating and testing the mic and helping the writers find their order in the line up. I make sure everyone is settled, and then I always begin the reading with a little introduction. But before I could take my place at the podium this time, I had to check on the lemonade and cookies, which were late to arrive, which are as critical to the afternoon as a strong mic for an older generation of men and women whose voices sometimes fall to a whisper. So I slipped away for a second in search of the refreshments.

When I walked back into the room, Chuck, another compatriot of the group, had picked up the mic to ready the audience with a little ad-lib and a smile. Then, he spoke of Richard, who had “gone AWOL,” as he said–absent without leave, excused but still–and gave a beautiful tribute to him by reading “An Ode to Richard.” Steady and most gentle of men. It became clear that absent or not, Richard was still very much a part of the event.

Beginning this year, I am sharing my teaching duties with a colleague, who will alternate months with me. While this frees up my time to pursue more of my own writing, I won’t lie: it’s tough to let go of this group even a little bit. I may be their teacher, but as is often the case, I am their student as well. They continue to serve as witnesses in the ways of community, cherishing stories from every corner of the table, vowing to ensure each person’s words are heard, honoring that connection, and taking care of one another. An important lesson these days.

Community in action with gratitude of the time spent together.

From left to right: Mary, me, Val, Chuck, LaVerne, Betty, Ruth, and Mary.
Not pictured but greatly missed: Richard.

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The Landscape of Memory

Poet's CompThe title for this post comes from Kim Addonizio’s and Dorianne Laux’s book, The Poet’s Companion. In full, the sentence in the book reads:

The need to go back, to recover in language what’s lost, often impels poets to explore that landscape of memory and early experiences.

To recover in language what’s lost.
To explore that landscape of memory.

These are some of the reasons I write, but they are also reasons why I spend one Saturday a month with the writers at Harwood Place. Many of the pieces they compose come in the form of flash nonfiction and (more recently) poetry, and almost all of their pieces build on a memory.

IMG_2123For the last several weeks, I’ve been compiling the second edition of Writers at the Table, a very organic process as I sift through typewritten pieces and handwritten pieces and wait for the postman to deliver. The joy is in watching the pages come together in limericks and poems and essays. Stories about the simple joys in life, views from the window, and the heartache of living in one place while your lifelong partner receives care in another.

Exploring the landscape of memory through universal themes like love, loyalty, and loss.

If you’re anywhere near the area on Saturday, January 31st, we’re hosting a reading. Seven writers will share their work at the podium in front of Harwood Place residents, family, and friends. We’ll serve lemonade and coffee and cookies, laughter, tears, and hugs. 8220 West Harwood Avenue, Wauwatosa, Wisconsin. 2pm. I can’t wait.

If you’d like more information about the anthology, Writers at the Table II, contact me. If you think you might go to the reading, leave a comment here. I’ll look for you and introduce you to the people who can really liven up a Saturday morning.