tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5371028182709754366.post740681471397678167..comments2024-03-27T03:35:51.702-04:00Comments on Lisa Romeo Writes (the blog): Dad, Writing -- and Writing About DadLisa Romeohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01522310766694189857noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5371028182709754366.post-80896410983879299392011-06-21T10:46:56.964-04:002011-06-21T10:46:56.964-04:00Kario - I too got started writing poetry about fiv...Kario - I too got started writing poetry about five years ago(like you, after a long hiatus since some bad teenage stuff) because one just took up residence in my head. <br />Now I find many uncooperative essays (or balky parts of an essay), make better poems - or at least ALSO make interesting poems.Lisa Romeohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01522310766694189857noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5371028182709754366.post-87322045008435170762011-06-21T10:02:19.195-04:002011-06-21T10:02:19.195-04:00I wrote about my dad a lot as he was dying and not...I wrote about my dad a lot as he was dying and not much since. Maybe once or twice a year, is all. Until I came across a call for submissions for cancer poetry. I don't write poetry. At least not since I was in high school and I penned these horrible, angst-ridden, hormonal missives that embarrass me now...<br /><br />One poem kept rattling around in my head for days until I put it to paper. And now I'm working on another. I realized I miss writing about my dad. Maybe poetry is the new way for me to do that. <br /><br />Thanks for sharing.kariohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10150537989886423212noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5371028182709754366.post-33408581904646681672011-06-20T14:09:59.415-04:002011-06-20T14:09:59.415-04:00Oh, Laraine. Thanks for sharing your Dad story her...Oh, Laraine. Thanks for sharing your Dad story here. My father also wrote -- and sadly buried it all in a drawer. Whatever I write,I think about what he'd say if he could read it (even the stuff I know he wouldn't like!). As you say, he was the first reader...Lisa Romeohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01522310766694189857noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5371028182709754366.post-82386947989140063662011-06-20T13:54:31.403-04:002011-06-20T13:54:31.403-04:00Thanks, Lisa. I always think about these things. M...Thanks, Lisa. I always think about these things. My dad died in 87 when I was 19 and it's pretty much shaped everything about my writing (even if death and dad are not the literal topic). Dad was my first reader. He helped me come up with a title for a short story I wrote for the 7th grade contest, which ended up winning. He wrote as well, but never really pursued it because of his illness and I'm sure a myriad of other things I'll never know. He died a few months before my first short story was published, but in my heart, he is still and always will be, my first reader.Laraine Herringhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05890043873658222111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5371028182709754366.post-87148358131721197182011-06-19T20:29:12.877-04:002011-06-19T20:29:12.877-04:00Thanks, Barbara, for the kind words, and for shari...Thanks, Barbara, for the kind words, and for sharing your Dad story, too. <br /><br />I alsofrequently see a man who reminds me of my father; as you describe, it's often something small about the man's physical appearance that would be almost imperceptible to somoene else. I hope I never stop seeing those men!Lisa Romeohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01522310766694189857noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5371028182709754366.post-3661999344792830482011-06-19T12:04:57.974-04:002011-06-19T12:04:57.974-04:00Lisa, you are a profound writer. I have looked at ...Lisa, you are a profound writer. I have looked at your two essays and will be back to read them in their entirety.<br /><br />My dad died from the complications of multiple myeloma in 2002. Following the death of my mother from ovarian cancer in 1985, he married a woman who was younger than my youngest sister. They had a son who was born on our older daughter's 16th birthday. My half brother was seven when our father died. It was wonderful to see the happiness Glenda and Ian brought to my father.<br /><br />Two days ago I had the privilege of seeing a man who reminded me of my father - the back of his neck, the color and texture of his hair, the slight stoop of his shoulders....Barbara McDowell Whitthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14489177206945292998noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5371028182709754366.post-84413828328285661622011-06-19T11:28:38.237-04:002011-06-19T11:28:38.237-04:00Todd, that is a ageless question, I think. I actu...Todd, that is a ageless question, I think. I actually find it "easier" (in the sense that I can express the feelings with more confidence) to write about pain then joy -- but then, I think that's true for most nonfiction writers, as well; another puzzling conundrum.<br /><br />I hope you can enjoy some nice memories of your own father today.Lisa Romeohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01522310766694189857noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5371028182709754366.post-59724617752756373012011-06-19T09:16:58.729-04:002011-06-19T09:16:58.729-04:00Lisa,
Isn't it weird how we tend to write abou...Lisa,<br />Isn't it weird how we tend to write about the tragic things when it comes to losing our parents. I've only written a unpublished sketch about my dad after he died, but it was a sketch about him dying in hospital room. I wonder why memory does this this to us?<br />ToddToddhttp://exileonninthstreet.wordpress.comnoreply@blogger.com