Honesty

"The new phone book's here! The new phone book's here! I'm somebody now! Millions of people look at this book every day! This is the kind of spontaneous publicity--your name in print--that MAKES people."               

Steve Martin, The Jerk

                                                 
There is just something about being published that confers the illusion of personal worthiness. Call it a need of the inner child if you will, but there is some part of all of us that wants to see our name (favorably) in print. Even us shy types. People don't hear from us often, but that doesn't mean we don't have something to say. We all have something to say, and the perceived permanence of the printed word leads us to believe--correctly or incorrectly--that our words, our names, our lives, have value.

For many, being published means writing a book, or being a part of some written work such as a newspaper, magazine, playbill or a brick with our name on it in the middle of King Street. For others, being published means contributing something that gets written about. Both are means to one end: ensuring that people who come after us will know our name. 

That particular flavor of Kool-Aid leads us to believe that our name, and by association our existence, will live forever. Of course the fallacy is that just because no one knows your name doesn't mean it can't still be a fun Boston-area sports bar. And it doesn't mean you won't be remembered.

I think that's it, at its core. We all just want to be remembered.

Some of us want to be remembered for making a difference. Some of us just don't want to to be forgotten. We are afraid we will fade into oblivion. And if we do, that means, somehow, that our lives were meaningless. Without purpose.

That's one reason people have children. It is. So there'll be one child left in this world to carry on, to carry on....the family name. Or the family business. Or the memory of WHO I WAS. Children are our living tabula rasa, our opus,es...opi. They are vessels for some portion of our soul.

So we'll call this my Honesty blog. And here is the part where I gulp, step to the edge, and have the courage to take my own leap of faith in pursuit of my special purpose. Sorry Steve, we all have one. Even the girls.

I could say I wrote Janie Mitchell, Reliable Cook because it is the kind of story that needs to be shared with a wider audience. That would be true. Being associated with Janie through her writing has been an honor and a pleasure. This work is historically significant, and it is my privilege to be associated with it.

I could say I wrote the book because I want to honor Janie's memory and protect what she intended her journal to do: make a difference. Tru dat squared. But what is even truer (the trueyist) is that I have an inborn (maybe inbred) need to be appreciated. My inner child enjoys hearing that people like what I wrote. I like the attention, the accolades. There. I said it. I have always wanted to be published, not just as a writer but as an author. While I am scared to death about what lies ahead in this process, there is also a sense of calm, knowing that this means the Library of Congress, at least, will have me on file. And that means I will be remembered. 

Was Janie motivated by the same desire--to be remembered--when she wrote her journal at age 77? Perhaps. But I hope I've come to know Janie well enough over the last 3 years to speculate on her motivations for writing. I believe she wanted to make a difference by helping a new generation understand where they came from.

She feared that black history would be lost unless each and every individual takes charge of remembering it. "The negro teachers say nothing has been taught in history about the Negro," Janie wrote in her journal. "Well if you want a history get busy commit to memory," she wrote. Quicherbellyaiken, I can hear her say. In my mind Janie is a pressed and prim, finger-wagging lovable old lady who does not put up with excuses.

She also desperately wanted to pass along her religious beliefs to a current generation that had fallen away from biblical teachings. She worried for their souls.

Good lessons from a wise lady. Whether she would have been remembered in some way if her journal had not been published...who can say. Contrary to what Steve Martin's character believed, though, being published (whether in the phone book or anywhere else) is not what "makes" a person. Not in the Grand Scheme of Things. Janie understood that. And I would further venture to say that Janie would not have been concerned with being remembered so much as with being memorable. I believe she would have liked the idea of her journal being written on the hearts of future generations. Yes. She would have liked that very much. That's where she would want to see her name in print.

There, and in the Lamb's book of life: heaven's directory.