Tuesday, May 16, 2017

THE BOOK, THE STORY

post by Lynn 


Have you ever had moments when you started to doubt the importance of writing, of story?

I have.

I have had the thought run through my brain that says what I am attempting as a writer is, well, hardly substantial. Hardly life altering.

The last time I had a thought along those lines I coincidentally received a poem via email, from one of the authors who contributed to the Watch My Rising anthology that I edited last year.

That author’s name is Jim Littwin, and he attached the poem to some other comment, during an exchange we were having about the anthology.

Out of the blue, you might say.

Jim wrote the poem about an experience his father had during World War II. His father, John L. Littwin, was a captain in the Army Air Corps. He was shot down on his 53rd mission, and captured by the Nazis in May of 1944.

Here’s the poem, which was originally published in Whetstone, of Barrington, Illinois in 1985:



The Book

“Tell a story, they said.
“Keep our minds off the cold.”

My father didn’t answer.
He was just as cold,
     just as tired.
He could count his bones
     by touching them.

They trudged in snow,
feet wrapped in gunny sacks.

The moon looked like bread.

The Nazis, black helmets
     glinting like hell stars,
clawed the ranks of prisoners
to tear away the wounded
     and the slow.

The wishes of his men
and the rhythm of their walking
     made a book appear
before my father’s eyes.

He saw it floating there.

He began to read,
and men huddled round him
     to be near the story,
the story pulling them.

When my father reached out
and turned his hand
     in the frozen air,
an airman asked
     what he was doing.
“Turning the page,” he said.

And their feet and the cold
     were forgotten,
the guards in black helmets
     forgotten,
and my father read
     till his fingers froze.

With the sudden silence
     and crunch of snow,
     someone asked,
“What’s wrong, Captain?”

“My hands,” he said.
“I can’t turn the page.”

And the airman
     reached out, turning
     his hand in the icy air,
and my father went on reading.

They lost no more
     to the cold that night.
They lost no more
     to the snow.

          Jim Littwin (c) Whetstone, 1985




I read the poem.

I re-read the poem.

The doubts dissolved.

My stories may never matter in the way that John Littwin’s story mattered on that long ago march, but story matters.

Story matters.

Thanks, Jim Littwin, for sharing that story, that poem, with me.

How did you know I needed it?




Jim Littwin’s work has appeared in Story Quarterly (Volumes 5/6 and 10), Whetstone (Volumes 7, 12, 15), Willow ReviewThe National Catholic Reporter (7x), St. Anthony Messenger (4x), Hyphen Magazine, The Daily Herald, Watch My Rising: A Recovery Anthology, Midwest Magazine, and other publications.

He is the recipient of an Illinois Arts Council Award for Fiction, a Whetstone Prize for Poetry, and a Ragdale Foundation Fellowship.

To read another fine poem by Jim Littwin, “The Lost Gospel,” you can get a copy of Watch My Rising: A Recovery Anthology at Powells.com, Amazon.com or from Recover Wyoming.


AND WHILE WE'RE AT IT

Memorial Day is coming up. Time to go lay some wreaths on the family graves at the cemetery in Lusk, Wyoming, including on that of my father, James B. Griffith, Jr., a veteran of World War II.



5 comments:

  1. Thanks, Lynn, for letting Jim Littwin tell us his father's story. A beautiful and meaningful story it is too.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wow! How did you know I needed this post? :) Thank you, and Jim, for sharing this!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Well, now I have tears in my eyes. Just lovely. And so powerful.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Great story! Thanks for sharing a memorable moment in the life of a veteran.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Thanks, all, for the comments. I got an email from Jim, stating that he had shared the post with family and friends, many of whom had not seen the poem (originally published in 1985). I think it's wonderful that a whole new generation is discovering this story and poem and that it is now online for all to see.

    ReplyDelete

Writing Wyoming blog comments are moderated--yours will be posted shortly. Thanks for joining in the conversation!