Friday Night Bedtime Story

I love stories.

Of all kinds...short or long, truth or fiction, written, heard, seen, found. I can't even tell you what I think comprises a good story; I just know one when I find it, or more accurately, when it finds me. I have some idea that I'm going to start collecting them somehow, but I haven't gotten started yet, except in minor and inconsequential ways.

But tonight I have a story...I don't know how long it will be, I'm sort of putting it together as I go. But please stay with me, its a good one. (remember: i confound all hope of brevity...)

Sam at Feral has become a good friend of mine, though a continent seperates us. I think hers was the blog that got me started as a reader, and then she personally encouraged me to try blogging (though no one can blame her for what has transpired.) It occurs to me as I write that, I have never thanked her publicly, and there's no time like the present, so if you're reading this, thanks Sam for opening the door to the blog world for me. Sam has always had great stories, mostly daily; she gives us the raw stuff of her life on what I call the high plateau, arrived at after some difficulties that required her to leave her beloved farm. I always read her in amazement- she has overcome a lot of challenges and still keeps going with optimism, humor and grace. It is no mystery why she is so well respected in the blog world; she exemplifies class, kindness and style. If I'm not mistaken, she'll probably give me grief for my public observations because in addition to everything else she is possesses a quiet humility, an attribute I wish I had.

Anyways, I digress as I'm prone to do...so to refocus:

Sam's life is a story. I'm certain there's a book or two in there, if not more. It should be noted Sam is a writer, and her prose is clear and descriptive. She can plant pictures in your head with just a few words. But like many of us know, being an artist of any kind in our society is pretty much a good way to starve. I don't know that she and her brother were there yet, but on occasion, they visited the neighborhood. From reading her daily entries, we can tell they have had more than a passing familiarity with economic hurdles. I point this out because it makes this story all the more remarkable.

Sam is a strong, intelligent woman and by all appearances, fearless. Spread thin, with many demands, she has undertaken a huge project, fueled by her passion and her work ethic, and absolute refusal to give up. Sam, the writer, is building a bookstore.

She is doing this on her own, with so little resources it is scary. She gets up daily, looks at the list, and attacks it with faith. She is working towards her dream (and is on schedule!) and is doing this pretty much alone, with no support system other than her big heart and strong will. At the same time she is caring for her brother, in itself more than the average person could manage. She moves forward, not in leaps in bounds, but in steady, slow increments. Things happen, go awry, fall apart, but she is not deterred. Even if momentarily discouraged, she regroups, and the next hour or day is back at it with a positive attitude. And her occasional pictures show the progress, which we should all celebrate. I regret I'm not near enough to lend a hand.

If you've never started a business, or renovated an old space, or worked for yourself, you can't imagine how hard it is sometimes. To do it alone exponentially compounds the difficulty; there is no one to talk things thru with, to be encouraging during a rough spot, to help with the heavy lifting, or to come up with some help on an unexpected expense. To watch Sam accomplish all of this is incredible and inspiring. It is a story of the strength of human spirit on a personal scale. It is an example of the power of commitment and passion and belief in oneself and one's dream. The accepted measurement of success in our culture is whether or not this endeavor will be self supporting and make a profit. I contest that independent of that measurement, Sam's work is already a success. She has done it, the doors will open, books will be available for sale. Profit and support is just a matter of luck. I admire and respect Sam for having faith that the universe will reward her hard work. I suspect it will.

Go to the Feral website, and read her story...go way back as far as you can. This bookstore isn't the end of a story, its a chapter in a fantastic life and a beginning to another part. I am honored to know her, and to have watched this from afar. I can promise you that if I were near, it would be my bookstore of choice, if for no other reason because I respect the fact that she's DOING it. And if she sells online, then count me as a customer.

Sam's story should be a lesson for all of us that are doing our little things and maybe not brave enough to push it, or leap with the faith that we can fly. A small warm bookstore with a friendly face, a little cafe with good soup, a chapbook of clear and honest writing, handmade pots on your table, handmade cards to send your friends, woven scarves and handsewn clothing, a self published poem, a small painting containing the vision of the painter, a piece of raw music by one person and one instrument- these things matter. It injects the personal into an environment that has become so commercialized and devoid of soul that we have to desensitize just to get through the days sometimes. So if you're hesitant to make or do something, for whatever reason, think about Sam's story. Then go do it. That alone makes it valuable.