The Best Christmas Present Ever

One of my literary heroes is the poet, Gwendolyn Brooks. Not because she did something so generous for me—she did—but because it was one of her poems that triggered something in me and made me see the soul-enriching  value of great writing.  The poem was “We Real Cool.” It was amazing, highly visual, vital, and, for me, permanent. What I didn’t realize, until years later when I attended her public reading of it, was that I had the cadence wrong. So, she taught me something twice with one poem. That’s pretty good.

I was in college when her reading tour brought her to Texas. It was my first time to see someone whose work had made such an impact, and I was pretty excited. What I didn’t realize was that one of my professors had given her a short story of mine. When I learned about it, I was so embarrassed that I hid out. About a week later I came around, mustered up some risky hubris, and asked if she had said anything. It was a watershed moment that could have been pretty crushing to someone like me.  He said, “She left you this.”

It was her own copy of her collected works, the one she was using on the tour, and on the blank first page she had written a letter of encouragement and praise to me. It was the most generous thing.

I have carried that book around ever since, like early man keeping a fragile ember alive to generate each day’s fire. It kept me going for very a long time when no one was reading anything of mine.

It also has been an instruction. An example of what I should do when the opportunity come along to make a similar kind of gesture to someone who is facing the same long road.

So, it was that this Christmas I received an incredible gift. My wife had the book shadow boxed – museum glass, magnetic fronting, the works. It will last longer, protected as much as possible. I like to think that someday, perhaps after I am no longer around, there will be some literature related emergency and someone will break the glass. Then, the work will come to someone else’s rescue.

In the meantime, it’s a reminder of a great spirit and the power of a simple act.

Gwendolyn Brooks (1917-2000)