words

The Word Collector

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

My sixteen-year-old son and I spent some time in his bedroom the other day, re-organizing his bookcase. (The same white Ikea BILLY bookcase that used to be in my childhood bedroom many years ago.) During college, I worked in a public library; I’m happy to help when someone wants to re-organize a bookcase.

Many of my son’s once-favorite picture books had sat on those lower shelves for several years now, largely untouched and unread.

“I don’t want to donate them, but I don’t want them out on my bookcase,” he said.

I understood.

There are some books that are so firmly rooted in memories that you can’t possibly imagine parting with them. For our son, that included Curious George books and a large stack of Todd Parr books. 

From his stacks, we did find a few to donate, and I found one I have now placed on my bookcase — The Word Collector by Peter H. Reynolds.

I could mention the book’s charming illustrations. 

Or the short and sweet author’s note on the inside of the front cover. 

Or the encouraging author’s note at the back of the book: “Reach for your own words/ Tell the world who you are/ and how you will make it better.”

But really, I’m keeping this book because of sentences like these:

“Jerome began stringing words together.
Words he had not imagined being side by side.
He used his words to write poems.
He used his poems to make songs.
They moved. They delighted.
Some of his simplest words were his most powerful. 
Jerome eagerly collected more and more of his favorite words. 
The more words he knew the more clearly he could share with the world what he was thinking, feeling, and dreaming.”

I am proud to be a word collector.

Readers, do you have any children’s books you keep near your writing space? Any children’s books you just can’t part with? Please share. 

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Words Have Power

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Words are powerful. What you say, and how you say it, have lingering effects. And I’m not just talking about words spoken to someone else. Also included in this list are the words we speak out loud to ourselves (I’m not the only one who talks to herself, am I?) and the words we think to ourselves. 

We know this. 

But sometimes, something happens that serves as a flashing-light reminder of just how true that is.

Last week, I had two such incidents.

My neighbor and I were chatting and catching up. She’s almost forty years older than me and was talking about some new pain she’s experiencing in her lower back/side area. Thankfully, all x-rays came back fine, no problems identified. She found herself in a situation that I know all too well. Tests are negative, big problems ruled out, but still no answers about what’s causing the pain and no clear direction given on how to alleviate the pain. 

“I tell you, living with chronic pain is no fun,” she said. 

I know.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she said.

I bit my tongue.

She went on a bit, describing the discomfort, and again said, “I really don’t know how you do it.”

I looked at her and said, “I don’t have a choice.”

I do it, I live with chronic pain, because I have to. Because there is no alternative.

And though not her intention at all, and though I’m not fully sure why, her words got under my skin and bothered me. 

The second conversation occurred the next day, during a telehealth appointment with my rheumatologist. Near the end of our conversation, I asked her about a trip my family and I are thinking of taking. 

“We’re thinking about going to Hawaii,” I said. “But I haven’t flown since before my son was born, and he’s 14. I haven’t flown since I have this condition. And I’m worried, because of the blood clot I had after my biopsy.”

(In case you missed it, I had a second biopsy in September 2020. A “routine” procedure that was supposed to provide some answers to my rheumatology team. No answers, and I developed a “very rare” blood clot in my left calf. You can read about it here.)

She answered my questions, told me some things I could do before, during, and after flying. And then she said something that has been on repeat in my head since she said it.

“Oh, go, you need to have some fun.”

And that advice, given with a smile through a screen, was encouragement and validation I hadn’t realized I needed.