John Brown First Swam Into My Vision

And There Are People Who Want To Be Writers Because They Love To Write. And They Care.

The 60s Passed And Faded And I Grew Older, And In 1987 Bought A House In Upstate New York, And It Turned Out That John Brown Was Buried Down The Road From My House And That He Had Lived There Longer Than Anywhere Else And His House Was Still Standing.

John Brown First Swam Into My Vision In The 1960s When I Was A Political Activist In The Civil Rights Movement And The Anti-war Movement At Chapel Hill, Where I Went To University.

You Go Out Into The World, You Read Everything You Can Read, You Imitate The Things You Love, And You Learn How Hard It Is To Do. Eventually, You Learn Your Own Vision Of The World, You Learn Your Own Voice And How To Hear It, And You Learn To Write Your Own Work. Writers Today Have As Many Opportunities As My Generation Did, But They Don't See The Examples As Clearly As We Did.

Driving Home, It's All I Can Do To Keep From Crying. Time's Come, Time's Gone, Time's Never Returning, I Say To Myself. What's Here In Front Of Me Is All I've Got, I Decide, And As I Drive My Car Through The Blowing Snow It Doesn't Seem Like Much, Except For The Kindness That I've Just Exchanged With An Old Lady, So I Concentrate On That.