Growing Up John-Boy

Writing is my thing. It belongs to me. I say this not because I've been paid to write (although I have), but simply because I have the desire to write. This is evidenced by stacks of journals dating back to my early teen years. I started writing my first book on yellow legal pads when I was in junior high school. It was a murder mystery in the style of Agatha Christie called A Face in the Window. I also wrote short stories, plays, poems, song lyrics, notes, and many, many letters. Later, there was this blog, journal publications, writing for hire, and my dissertation - I am the only person I know who loved the experience of writing their dissertation. 

Of course, the world is full of folks who have a personal connection to writing. I grew up watching The Waltons on TV with my family. The eldest son on the show was an aspiring writer named John-Boy. He had a good heart and strong moral compass. He was deeply loved by his family. He was sensitive and kind and honest. He was also a bit different than the rest of his family because he had an artistic sensibility. He aspired to achieve his dreams, which would take him to places outside his family's purview. John-Boy was strong and sure-footed and a good listener. John-Boy loved his Mama.

My mom used to tell me I was just like John-Boy.

It is one of the best compliments I've ever received. It is one bestowed on me with love and a mother's pride. The feeling of knowing your Mom beams with pride and love when she sees you is a glorious one. I loved being John-Boy in her eyes. 

My mom passed in 2020 and, since then, I haven't been able to watch The Waltons. It's too painful. I also struggle with writing now because I'd grown accustomed to her feedback. I liked sharing my life with her through my writing. It's the reason I started this blog in the first place. 

There is a sadness associated with The Waltons that has to do with growing up and moving on. The show captures a time in our lives when we are surrounded by family and everyone we love is alive and vibrant. As the show went on, characters died and moved away. Life changed. 

Life changes. 

Constantly.

I'm starting to come back to writing now. It's a bit painful sometimes. Is it therapeutic? I'm not sure. Probably.  

I was working on a book project when my mom passed and the desire to continue felt forced afterwards. But, I think I am ready to return to it. I think my mom would be thrilled if I did. It's a way to honor her. I can hear her voice in my head saying once more that I'm just like John-Boy. 

My mom loves me. That's one thing that will never change. No, no, even death can't take that away from me.