I backed into a writing life and now I find myself on a new journey, relying on an old theme.
I expected to be a numbers guy, running the financial side of a business, but a stint as a summer intern with a CPA tore up that one-page plan, which had already been crumpled by subpar performance in math classes and naps in Econ 101. I did like the tidiness of a column of numbers, the certainty of the bottom-line result. But I needed to go horizontal rather than vertical. Lining up letters into words, into thoughts, into essays not only fueled my need for orderliness but, triggering the creative side of my brain, produced delight and satisfaction.
My first job in writing was as the Arts and Entertainment editor of the Dakota Student, the student newspaper at my alma mater, the University of North Dakota. Seeing only a couple of writing clips from my reporting the previous year, the editor in chief somehow decided on me for the job. I’m forever grateful, Mike B.
I churned out copy weekly, from news bits to entertainment reviews to satirical personal ads—and into a different kind of column than a tally of numbers. I called it Annotations, where I rambled on about campus life.
So now, many years later, I’m coming full circle and putting my name again under that title. I’m on a writing path toward a new horizon and want to use Substack to spur creativity. I hope to entertain, inform and engage readers on some of my favorite topics:
History
Growing food
Bicycle touring
Family and life
All Roads Lead to Rome
The first and last bullet points are the driving force that brought me to publishing here right now. Let me explain…
A few years ago, a dusty corner of my mind got stirred up and revealed treasures when I started working on the story of my father’s life. Sweeping clean that unused attic space sent dust motes swirling that caught the light angling through the window. Squinting at the nearest ones, I saw the people who shaped me from the clay of childhood, extending their hands at pivotal moments. Other motes held beloved old cars, couches and cats, glazed in the sunset colors of memory. Motes exploded into crazy antics with friends, discovery of new ideas, the excitement of achievements, the pleasures of love. I recommend trying it: kick up some memory dust and focus in on the motes.
My book about my father, Erick Gabriel Thorness, is a history of his service in World War II and a memoir of my path to understanding him. In “All Roads Lead to Rome,” I have undertaken a journey across time and continents to consider who he was and how he became that person, and use the memories, emotions and knowledge to grapple with who I am and how I got here. My life has been lived largely without him in it, and I’ve felt a void where that relationship would have been. That feeling fueled my exploration. “All Roads Lead to Rome” became my road trip of discovery.
The turn back toward my father was triggered by the death of my mother, who was a cherished part of my life. Her love and advice guided me. When she died, a cache of letters to her from my father was revealed, and she had stipulated that her family could read them after she was gone. So we began.
“My father’s words had not been heard by any of us in thirty-nine years,” I write in the first chapter. “And I, only a boy at the time of his death and now nearing fifty, could not recall the timbre of his voice any more than I might the rare touch of his hand. The old farmer loomed, but he was mute, stoic as his Norwegian forefathers. He was about to become unquiet.”
I recall tears welling up as I typed those words, regret that the boy didn’t work his way through life with a cache of memories. But then, the thrill of it, a new voice from the past. It was tantalizing. It was far too little. And so, triggered by his words on paper, I began to put down my own. The “Word doc” would grow as my plan expanded into research, interviews, travel, and study of history.
Today, ninety-six thousand words later, the result of many drafts, that document is ready for the publication process. I am seeking a partner to help me get it into print, agents and editors and a production team to help me share that story of the growth of understanding of my father and myself. I will offer bits of the story over time here—I can’t help but do that. I will report on the path of the project. I will celebrate when it is published.
Meanwhile, I hope readers will find motes of illumination in the annotations of my pursuits and interests. I am happy to bring them into light. Stringing words into sentences and essays still brings me joy.
Quotable:
“The secret to living well and longer is to eat half, walk double, laugh triple and love without measure.” – attributed as a Tibetan proverb
Put me in the column of those who are glad you didn't become a banker.
Thanks for adding me to reader list. I'm a fan!