Drawing with Words
It always seemed to me Abraham Lincoln was the potter's clay formed into what we all picture as the perfect man. Well, maybe not all, but close enough to touch us profoundly...a great representative of the best of what we could be. If he was a character that I conjured up in a novel, his life would have turned out far different. He would have, by the stroke of my pen, lived happily ever after. Alas, his life as we all know, ended abruptly by an assassin's bullet. I love it when the bad guys "get it" before the story ends. Years ago, our fiction writers wrote happy endings. It left us all with hope. But the passage of time seems to have shaped our way of behavior and thoughts into something more cynical. Most of today's stories no longer portray a hopeful ending. Today's pen stroke delivers different swirls. Cynicism and despair are de rigueur. Hope is a bright leaf growing out of a crack in the cement. I like that. Moreover, I need that. Life's ride is full of twists and turns. We must navigate carefully. God bless the writer who tells of the big adventure and gets us through, still standing and better off for it.
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