Dreams and Visions

When I was in grade school I was a certified library buff. Somehow I still am. Back then, not a day passed that I didn’t drop by the library. Very few of my schoolmates were as voracious in reading as I was, though they were quite into popular juvenile literature then, you know—books such as Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew etc. These days the popular literary works among young people are Harry Potter and Goosebumps. Not to brag, but as for me, however, I went beyond that genre; I pored through every book that could be found in every section of the library, reading story after story, article after article.

I used to write for our school paper. And more often than not, I utilized reading as my primary means by which to accumulate ideas. There was one book which particularly moved me as a young writer. The book was called “Dear Mr. Henshaw” by Beverly Cleary. I do not know if there are new editions or reissues of the book, although I did see a worn out copy one time at the second hand book seller’s shop. I wanted to buy it then but I didn’t have enough money. When I did have the money to buy it, it was sold already.

“Dear Mr. Henshaw is a simple story told through a series of letters written by a young boy to a certain famous writer named Mr. Henshaw and through his diary, which he referred to as his “pretend Mr. Henshaw.” The literary rendering was very much similar to that of the books “Diary of Anne Frank” and our very own “Urbana at Felisa.”

Anyway, that book was about a young boy struggling to write a story which he hoped would be printed in their annual school paper. But then he couldn’t do so try as he might. He didn’t give up, however. He found inspiration in writing the famous Mr. Henshaw and by reflecting on things which happened to him through writing to his diary, “his pretend Mr. Henshaw.” In the end the young boy wasn’t able to come up with the story he had hoped to write. But he did come up with some sort of a narrative essay.

The young boy did not feel bad about it; his written interaction with the famous author and his own reflections had brought him to the realization that in time, his writing would develop; he would be able to write all the things he wanted to write about.

The depth of a person’s writing is often dependent on his understanding of things. He was still young and he had a lot to learn, to understand. The more one understands, the more one will be able to speak of the world through literature or whatever medium is deemed appropriate. Since reading that book, I had this consistent thirst for understanding; a natural—albeit compulsive tendency to seek comprehension of things, events that occur in my life. And then I write and write.

Philippine Copyright © 2010 by Oscar A. Corpuz, Jr.
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