My First Words

Last week, in a basement storage box, I discovered this 1978 photograph.  The two in the photo?  Becky and Yours Truly before the prom (jr. year).  Even today Becky reminds me that I did take her to the prom in 1978, but I wasn't with her at the prom. She claims I dumped her at the event and spent the bulk of my time watching a Don Knotts movie.  Okay, so some of this is true, but gosh-darn-it . . . she knows how much I like Mr. Knotts.  Why keep bitching about it?  It's ancient history.  I married her didn't I?  And I've learned to enjoy other shows, like Sanford & Son. 

Still, this photo brought back some writing history, too.  It was around this time, maybe a few months later, that I began seeing some of my writing in print.  I had been writing since I was about 12 years old (I mean, actually writing with the intent to be a writer) and by this time in high school I was sending out some material, mostly poetry about death and mutilation and sexual yearning, to various editors.

The first editor to take an interest in me was a guy by the name of Tim Chown. He edited a poetry journal entitled Wellspring and began publishing some of my poems.  I've still got copies of those journals somewhere, but the poetry, believe me, was rotten stuff.  But I owe him a lot, Mr. Chown.  He wrote kind, encouraging letters. He knew I was young.  He published a nice journal with original artwork.

Still later, while yet in high school, I began writing short pieces that a Mr. Mike Yaconelli published in a newly formed youth ministry magazine entitled Campus Life.  And years later, while I was in seminary, I began writing again for Yaconelli when he became editor of The Wittenburg Door--a magazine of religious satire that, quite frankly, I miss terribly even to this day.  The demise of The Door, just a few years ago, is still one of the deep sadnesses in my writing "career" and, save for Bob Darden, Joe Bob Briggs, Skippy R. and Yaconelli himself, I was probably writing for that magazine longer than anyone on staff when it went belly up. 

Likewise, just a few months after this photo was taken, I preached my first sermon.  I was nineteen years old and it was at an Easter sunrise service.  I preached for all of five minutes, I think, and why the people of my home church affirmed me is still one of the great mysteries of my life.  I've been preaching now for over 30 years.

These were my first words, written and spoken, and most of them were formed in the crucible of this time period of fluffy shirts, bell-bottom pants, and high school sweethearts.  About the only consistent element of my life since has been Becky.  You can see why I married her.  I had to have someone to remind me to cut my hair.  And, quite frankly, she is the only one who will watch a Don Knotts movie with me.  I'd take her to the prom any day.