Yes, John Boy. (OK, so it’s been a slow week 🙂
In The Chicken Thief episode, Ben received a letter from Liberty magazine saying he’d won a poetry contest, but guilt plagued him as his poem on winter closely resembled that of his brother’s poem on spring.
Enter John-Boy, who quickly put Ben’s mind at ease by sharing that writers have been inspiring other writers for hundreds of years, adding their own voice, and thereby creating their own masterpiece. Ben had used John-Boy’s idea—but ended up writing a better poem.
It was the only part of the episode I caught, but I’m glad I did. In the past, I’ve actually avoided reading both poetry and prose in fear of unconsciously using a word, phrase, or idea another writer may have already used. My writer’s group, however, enlightened me to the fact there’s “nothing new under the sun” but there is much to learn from more experienced writers.
I can’t imagine my world without the writer’s group—or John-Boy, of course.
Poem – “A Winter Mountain” by Benjamin Walton –
Our mountain in winter is something to see
at times it is just like a person to me.
A giant in white all covered with snow
it changes each day as the heavy winds blow.
And when I'm alone and I go for a walk
it's almost as if that old mountain can talk.
It seems to say Welcome my Winter Friend
I was here at the beginning, I'll be here at the end.
And what would a post on the Walton’s be without Earl Hamner’s distinctive “voice” to close us out?
“Outside our mountain the world was in deep depression, but we were sheltered by a common bond. The accomplishment of one was the accomplishment of all. We shared our glories, our defeats, our hopes, our aspirations, but mostly our love”.
I love the Walton's. They taught us about so many things. Thanks for sharing this lesson!
The Waltons. Now, THAT was good entertainment.
I grew up watching the The Waltons. Every weekday at 3:00pm One of my favorites
Cathy, this was so needed! I am an impressionist and I harbor words, fragment, images in my mind. When something happens to trigger a memory and I write about it, sometimes I wonder whether I thought of it or someone else did. One time I had such a knot in stomach for days, but when I tracked down the source that inspired the memory, I didn't even recognize it. Nowhere near my own words. We inspire each other, but do have to be careful. Thanks.