Monday, April 4, 2016

THE WRITE MOTIVATION

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THE WRITE MOTIVATION

Sheryl J. Bize-Boutte

The path of the writer can be a lonely one.  Few become best selling authors or have their stories turned into screenplays that become blockbuster movies. 



You write and you write.  Other authors sign their books that you purchased at the signing with the words ‘keep on writing” even if they have never read a word of your work, and it makes you feel warm and connected anyway. 



Acknowledgment for the writer can be sparse and at times, completely absent.  The love of words and the spinning of the tale keeps many of us going. 



In his 1970’s piece, “Why I Write”, my college creative writing teacher and mentor, John Eckels, shared one of his reasons for writing through the lens of the times:



“I am writing under obligation. Although I feel that I owe a debt of love to each person in the world---partially because of my extreme awareness that we share a common beginning and ending---I do not believe that such brutal agony which now my heart knows and utters would be demanded by any human being alive.  I then, am writing under obligation…to the hope of all things as they converge and form, what I in my impetuous humility about “I”, and what I with deliberate pride whisper “I.”



Inspired (or bedeviled?) by the obligation, I continue… I write on, for when obligation has a man, it has him for life.”



It was through this lens of obligation and hope that I began my writing career. Along the way, I have grown and changed and my writing has done the same.  Some forty years after my graduation from college, I was given the opportunity to look back on those years and write an article for the alumni magazine.  The piece, about my experiences as a woman of color at a prestigious women’s college in the 1970’s, met with mixed reviews.  Those who loved it were touched by it.  Those who hated it seemed to hate me as well for writing it. Except for one email from an alumna who said she was moved by it, the article seemed to have been largely ignored. Or so I thought until today, when this arrived via email (names removed for privacy):



“Hi Sheryl,



I wanted to take a moment to pass along some compliments paid to you by another alumna…She wrote the M Center about getting a copy of her transcript and sent them the following:



"I will be requesting my transcripts because I received a job offer from the University of Wisconsin.



For my in person interview, I was asked to make a speech on "engaging alumni/alumnae to recruit international students." I was given the theme ahead of time, and I had no idea how to approach the subject. One day I happened to start reading my Mills Quarterly from back in the Fall of 2015. (I keep them all!) There was an article on "Pride and Pain; Coming of age as a black woman at Mills" by Sheryl Bize-Boutte. It was about her experiences at Mills, as a member of the entering class of black women in 1969. She wrote a newspaper column, "Sheryl Raps," and the title of one of her columns was "Mills Thrusts White Values on Black Students." She was writing about "what she saw wrong at Mills, and...was given absolute freedom to do so."



Reading this article touched me very deeply. I started thinking about the theme of my speech for the UW interview, and decided to use the "approach" of  how/why alumni/alumnae are inspired to recruit students. In other words, alumni/alumnae must be  truly inspired by their alma maters, obviously, if they are to help recruit. I took Sheryl's article with me to Wisconsin, and read to my audience from her article. I am not a black woman, but I grew up in the South in the '60s and '70s and had friends who had to deal with similar struggles as she. It was so beautifully written.



To summarize: I wanted to thank Mills College as a place that has always encouraged absolute freedom of expression---even when the expression is controversial. I can't tell you how proud I am to be a Mills graduate. And, by the way, I think sharing Sheryl's article with the University of Wisconsin folks contributed to my being selected for the position."



She added in a later message that you are an incredible writer and have touched so many alumnae with your words.



Thank you!”



Back in 1970, Professor Eckels helped me to tune my voice.  He helped me to understand and embrace my obligation.  An obligation that feeds my motivation to keep writing.



 And on a day like today, an obligation that answers the “why” and brings me immeasurable joy.





Sheryl J. Bize-Boutte is the author of “A Dollar Five: Stories From a Baby Boomer’s Ongoing Journey” and “All That and More’s Wedding” both available at amazon.com and other major booksellers.  Her article “Pride and Pain; Coming of Age as a Black Woman at Mills” can be read at:



https://issuu.com/millsquarterly/docs/2015fall?e=4786048/30514428

copyright ©  2016 by Sheryl J. Bize-Boutte

Monday, December 21, 2015

CWC-BB Members Featured in Nepalese Magazine

 
CALIFORNIA WRITERS CLUB MEMBERS FEATURED IN NEPALESE MAGAZINE


Articles by California Writers Club-Berkeley Branch members Kristen Caven and Sheryl Bize-Boutte have been published in Chicago Newa, the “flagship magazine of the Newa American Dabu” a non-profit organization representing Napalese people in the U.S. and overseas.  Kristen and Dr. Louise Hart’s “The Powerful Role of Parents” and Sheryl’s “As the Crow Flies: A Lesson in Workplace Integrity” appear in the 2015
fifth edition of the annual publication.

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Monday, December 7, 2015

HAPPY HAPPY AND MERRY MERRY!

Mommy and Oly

Mommy liked a cold beer every now and then.  Her favorite was Olympia.  I never could stand the taste of it, but  I would often, even into adulthood, ask her for that first cold sip just because the look on her face made it look so good.  She would always give me what was probably the best part of the drink, that initial satisfying swallow that would not be duplicated until the next tab was popped.  That small yet meaningful sacrifice was just one example of who she was.  That unforgettable sip was how she gave to me and to others, even if it meant giving the best away.

The day after Mommy died in 1981, Daddy removed the empty beer cans from the recycling bin and gave them to me.

They have been ornaments of loving memory on our Christmas tree ever since.
 



FROM OUR HOME TO YOUR HOME
HAPPY HAPPY AND MERRY MERRY!  

 BLESSINGS TO YOU AND YOURS THIS HOLIDAY SEASON

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

WATCHING TV AND STYLING: 1972 ALDEN'S CATALOG

WATCHING TV AND STYLING!  

1972 ALDEN'S CATALOG


Hey, where's the remote?

Looking boss and out of sight!

Friday, July 3, 2015

THOUGHT I WOULD RE-POST TO WISH YOU A HAPPY AND SAFE FOURTH OF JULY!

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BUYING THE COW AND THE FOURTH OF JULY
 by
 Sheryl J. Bize-Boutte 


It is the 1950’s and the Friday before the Fourth of July.  At our house, this holiday was almost a big as Christmas.  And since it was also the first of the month and payday, the men of the neighborhood would stop off after work to fill their gas tanks, buy their spirits and beers of choice, a carton of cigarettes, and plenty of charcoal for the coming celebrations.  At the same time, the women would get off work and head to the meat market to buy pork ribs and chicken, and then to the supermarket to buy the ingredients for the macaroni and cheese, potato salad and deviled eggs that would be the main side dishes for the big day.  The beef that would be laid on the freshly cleaned grills was not included in this last minute buying frenzy because everyone had already bought the cow.

The annual buying of the cow was a tradition in many neighborhoods and ours during those days.  Usually it was limited to 2 or 3 participants per cow to assure the maximum amount of good cuts for the money.  The orders were usually placed in early spring with the proceeds from the tax return, and if one had a small family, beef would be a featured dinner menu item at least once a week for an entire year.  Everyone had an upright freezer in the garage to hold the bounty of steaks, roasts, ribs and what always seemed to be an overabundance of hamburger.

Back then, I knew times were good when I had new skates, the end of June was upon us, and I heard Mommy say to Daddy, “ Mr. Crenshaw is going to deliver the cow on Tuesday.”   Then Tuesday would arrive and Mr. Crenshaw would pull up to the front of the house in his white paneled van filled with his cow deliveries for the day.  We would all run out to the curb, and Daddy would roll out the wheelbarrow, check his neatly stacked order, and along with Mr. Crenshaw, begin to unload.  We helped by carrying whatever did not fit into the wheelbarrow into the garage.  Mommy would instruct us on how to load the packages into the freezer; roasts on one side, ribs in the middle and hamburger in one of the separate bins.  When the last blast of cold air escaped as we closed the lid on that full freezer, we felt prosperous and secure.

Soon the preparations for the big day would begin. Although we were in an urban setting, it was not unusual to see a fire pit being dug in someone’s backyard and spits being erected by the resident bbq engineer.  If the party was at our house, as it often was, Daddy and his friends would begin cooking the night before. The night air would be filled with their laughter punctuating the stories they would tell, along with the sweet smells of mesquite and Daddy’s secret sauce.  We would be “on call” to bring Daddy the forks, spoons, pans, and seasonings he always forgot and would request one by one.

On the holiday, our backyard would be filled with people coming and going from the early morning to the dawning of the next day.  We ate, laughed and danced to the music of the times and tunes from back in the day. The aura coming from those parties would sometimes draw strangers who were just passing by or neighbors we had not yet met.  It seemed everyone wanted to be a part of the magic.

We moved twice after the first party I remember in the 1950’s and in different backyards, Fourth of July bbq’s continued at my parent’s house for more than 25 years.  During that time, sons-in-law, grandchildren, disc jockeys and live bands would be added the mix.  Somewhere along the way, the tradition of getting together to buy the cow would disappear.  But as long as they were able, many of the same people who joined in that purchase in the 1950’s joined with us in the backyards of the 1960’s and 1970’s. 

 And each year, with the stars and stripes waving in the gentle summer breeze and the fireworks exploding in the night sky, we were happy to be together, once again.


 Excerpted From 
"A Dollar Five-Stories From A Baby Boomer's Ongoing Journey"

copyright©2014 by Sheryl J. Bize-Boutte

Available at Amazon.com and other major booksellers