My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Keeping Connected to His Contempt
He has a contempt for success, a certain wariness of money-seeking, and even occasions not to do well. It is as though he might lose some vital aspect, a vestige of what is essential and he would then have no root to what he would so like to believe. He would be lost among those embodying a value he is afraid to have, a contentment that might rob him of connectedness to poor peoples and lost causes. It is another aspect of what he calls "keeping the faith."
Labels:
comparison,
conviction,
people,
poverty
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