Great intro Ben, got hooked and I especially liked the formaldehyde smell connecting you to memories of that teacher and hospitals. Arriving late to the readings, means I find it tricky to find the follow up link. Might be worth adding the link to the next one and previous one on here? If that's not too much trouble. Just an idea. Thank you for sharing this story and read with us.
Wait? What? I post something, it comes up twice, I delete one, and they both go?
What I meant to say was: Thanks! No one likes the sound of their one voice, and once you get past that, the rest is easy. I just tell myself to read like I would if I were reading to the kids. And that's exactly what I do.
Ben! This recording is terrific. So glad you shared it. You have a wonderful reading voice. And the story was really good--recalling hospitals and foibles of parenting and humaning and what we do and don’t recollect or understand.
Your writing captures well the essence of fleeting childhood memories and the pondering of what they will mean to Ronnie as she grows older. Our experiences, both pleasant and difficult, play a crucial role in shaping our identities and perspectives. Enjoy your voice over as I read too.
Well done Ben! You captured the essence of a child in this situation and took me right back there to when my Dad was in the hospital. "I am not my parents" has also been uttered in my own mind about a million times (they were great folks but...you know!).
You did an excellent job with the reading. I think this is a difficult thing to pull off because not everyone can get the cadence and speed right. I am a very fast reader so I often don't like listening to a reading because it goes too slow for me, but that wasn't the case with your story so I will be tuning in for more.
I've always read to my children, and to small gatherings of friends (3-4 people), but this is different. I was watching "Celebrities Reading letters at Cambridge," (I don't know what the real name is, but that works on the search), and I thought, I can do that.
I so enjoy reading you, Ben. I am at once with the father and with the girl, and the father when he was a boy. There is so much empathy in this story. Beautifully done.
It's really strange because my parents moved here from Europe in '56. I never knew my grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins, until almost a teenager. And by that time, both grandparents were gone.
Sep 11, 2023·edited Oct 12, 2023Liked by Ben Woestenburg
As said before, "You're a very instinctive writer."
Never assumed the subject matter you address is about your own life or experience. There's something of ourselves in all we express in any form of communication and there's also observation, monitoring over long periods of time; placing ourselves in the shoes of others.
Really enjoy your art...Your expression; raw, Hemingway-esque; no extraneous words or shallow, superficiality. Tonight's addition is more poignant in some manner as it's connecting generations in the worry, drama of mortality through the eyes of several identities based in age. Original concept in many ways.
Wonderful! Loved the writing and the reading and the commentaries. The writing had me going back eighty years to my own parents and grandparents and feeling I could also really freely (finally!) think and remember and speculate about them and my childhood and my selves. To me your writing (this work) is a profound teaching on self expression, on self enabling ... thank you so much.
Gail, thank you so much for that. I'm amazed at the response I sometimes get from people who either relate, or just 'get' what it is I'm trying to say. And that's the part that puzzles me, because I don't write with the idea trying to convey a message -- I'm not trying to say anything. I'm just a guy who sat out on the Fraser river up here in Canada, drifting in a tiny boom boat, either reading, or editing stories I was writing when I was at home and not working. I never went to University, or College, maybe took one or two writing courses at community college/night-school, but...I never chased the dream because I had two kids to help raise, and, well, I guess what you'd call a really entertaining social life.
I think what I'm trying to say, and I thank you for your patience if you're still reading this, is that I write stories that interest me. I come up with ideas the same as everyone else. (Usually I ask myself: What if?) I hear snippets of conversations, or hear something on the radio, and I'll latch onto it. I ask myself: What if? Like this story that's working itself in my brain about something referred to as: The Beethoven Kiss. I won't tell you the story of the kiss, because that would go on for quite a while. It's a kiss, handed down from Master to Student, and passed on generationally. My mind does somersaults with where the story wants to take me. I think if there is a theme in any of my stories, it would have to be love. I told my wife that I wanted to write a story that had a homosexual relationship -- it's the challenge of pulling that off as a straight man -- and she replied by saying: "Love is Love, no matter what you think of it." And I thought, I can take that and run with it. Love is love. I have stories of familial love -- albeit, looking at it now, rather dysfunctional families to say the least.
I really am running on here, but bear with me. I think the reason I might resonate with an older group of readers is that I'm not afraid to speak about things the way people said them. I worked in a sawmill. I started when I was 19. I'm 65. It's the only job I've ever had. It wasn't what you'd call a "politically correct " atmosphere. We smoked dope and drank on the job. As you can imagine, in a group of people like that, there were many different sorts. Some of the guys I knew, would've been welcome members of the Clan, believing that White is right! Yeah! Others, were radical in their political beliefs. They were handing out Communist newspapers in the parking lot. Some were very into the union and working their way up through the system. Guys were screwing around on their wives, getting caught, getting away with it, losing everything, coming out on top. So everything that I have, everything that I know, comes from that crowd of misfits. They were the worst of men, and the best of men.
If I can reach out and touch your heart as much as I make you think, (where'd that come from?) I'll consider myself a success. And I like that. I've never sold a thing as far as my writing's concerned. I now have 8 paying subscribers which equates to more money than I've ever made in my writing career, but sadly, when you break it down comes out at something like 2¢ a year. So when people reach out and tell me they like my writing, it basically leaves me speechless. I hope I'll be writing for a long time to come. I'm thinking I'll be happy if I can get 20 years on this site. I wouldn't mind 25, but 90's kinda pushing it.
Ben is really great...Don't often get into his Posting as I'm generally tied-up. I keep everything he does and once in a while pull marathons. He's quite gifted. Find myself wondering if he's actually read the books on the shelves in the scene when he reads to us...🤔. Then again...Easy to imagine he has. One doesn't write as he unless reading a tremendous amount.
Forgot to mention the method used to bring the mundane into the equation as a distraction to re-direct focus from the unfathomable; a Freudian sublimation adding importance to the grinding nothingness of necessities as a way to detract from the significance of mortality; GOSH IT'S RIGHT ON TARGET.
Since you claim to not have had Grandparents you recall...You've obviously decided to wear that hat and have partaken in a grief-stricken pie.
As somebody having eleven Grandparents when born and all are now gone...Three of whom were extended parents I saw, lived with at times and spoke with with every single day of my life until they died...I can tell you of doing a fairly decent job with this piece.
I still cry at times...Not as often and the great times are a joy to recall. Christmas, Easter...Going to Church; some things lost the sense of connectedness and shear wonder of what they once were even though I have Grandchildren and we're at tight as with my Grandparents.
It's taken becoming older to comprehend how my Grandfather could never fully overcome the loss of my Grandmother and Mother as his only child. Though he adored us and was there for us and we for him...We were just not the same.
I'm sorry you don't recall your Grandparents. It's a part of life for me impossible to imagine not having.
Great intro Ben, got hooked and I especially liked the formaldehyde smell connecting you to memories of that teacher and hospitals. Arriving late to the readings, means I find it tricky to find the follow up link. Might be worth adding the link to the next one and previous one on here? If that's not too much trouble. Just an idea. Thank you for sharing this story and read with us.
You rock, Ben. More soon ...
Wait? What? I post something, it comes up twice, I delete one, and they both go?
What I meant to say was: Thanks! No one likes the sound of their one voice, and once you get past that, the rest is easy. I just tell myself to read like I would if I were reading to the kids. And that's exactly what I do.
Ben! This recording is terrific. So glad you shared it. You have a wonderful reading voice. And the story was really good--recalling hospitals and foibles of parenting and humaning and what we do and don’t recollect or understand.
Your writing captures well the essence of fleeting childhood memories and the pondering of what they will mean to Ronnie as she grows older. Our experiences, both pleasant and difficult, play a crucial role in shaping our identities and perspectives. Enjoy your voice over as I read too.
Well done Ben! You captured the essence of a child in this situation and took me right back there to when my Dad was in the hospital. "I am not my parents" has also been uttered in my own mind about a million times (they were great folks but...you know!).
You did an excellent job with the reading. I think this is a difficult thing to pull off because not everyone can get the cadence and speed right. I am a very fast reader so I often don't like listening to a reading because it goes too slow for me, but that wasn't the case with your story so I will be tuning in for more.
I've always read to my children, and to small gatherings of friends (3-4 people), but this is different. I was watching "Celebrities Reading letters at Cambridge," (I don't know what the real name is, but that works on the search), and I thought, I can do that.
Lovely reading to a great story. I always enjoy hearing your voice. 😊
We should come up with an idea and collaborate. Whaddaya think?
I really enjoyed reading this! Well done as usual
I so enjoy reading you, Ben. I am at once with the father and with the girl, and the father when he was a boy. There is so much empathy in this story. Beautifully done.
This is a long one--aren't they all. A two-tiered story with a dark family secret. I hope I don't disappoint.
😯😟💖🙏🏻💖
Children seldom forget death's visits
and their life will mirror the strength imparted
from us and those before us as they too
face the great challenge all must endure.
If there is one fact of Earthly life; it is that NONE survive it.
It's really strange because my parents moved here from Europe in '56. I never knew my grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins, until almost a teenager. And by that time, both grandparents were gone.
As said before, "You're a very instinctive writer."
Never assumed the subject matter you address is about your own life or experience. There's something of ourselves in all we express in any form of communication and there's also observation, monitoring over long periods of time; placing ourselves in the shoes of others.
Really enjoy your art...Your expression; raw, Hemingway-esque; no extraneous words or shallow, superficiality. Tonight's addition is more poignant in some manner as it's connecting generations in the worry, drama of mortality through the eyes of several identities based in age. Original concept in many ways.
Wonderful! Loved the writing and the reading and the commentaries. The writing had me going back eighty years to my own parents and grandparents and feeling I could also really freely (finally!) think and remember and speculate about them and my childhood and my selves. To me your writing (this work) is a profound teaching on self expression, on self enabling ... thank you so much.
And thank you for that. I read these comments and feel humbled.
Gail, thank you so much for that. I'm amazed at the response I sometimes get from people who either relate, or just 'get' what it is I'm trying to say. And that's the part that puzzles me, because I don't write with the idea trying to convey a message -- I'm not trying to say anything. I'm just a guy who sat out on the Fraser river up here in Canada, drifting in a tiny boom boat, either reading, or editing stories I was writing when I was at home and not working. I never went to University, or College, maybe took one or two writing courses at community college/night-school, but...I never chased the dream because I had two kids to help raise, and, well, I guess what you'd call a really entertaining social life.
I think what I'm trying to say, and I thank you for your patience if you're still reading this, is that I write stories that interest me. I come up with ideas the same as everyone else. (Usually I ask myself: What if?) I hear snippets of conversations, or hear something on the radio, and I'll latch onto it. I ask myself: What if? Like this story that's working itself in my brain about something referred to as: The Beethoven Kiss. I won't tell you the story of the kiss, because that would go on for quite a while. It's a kiss, handed down from Master to Student, and passed on generationally. My mind does somersaults with where the story wants to take me. I think if there is a theme in any of my stories, it would have to be love. I told my wife that I wanted to write a story that had a homosexual relationship -- it's the challenge of pulling that off as a straight man -- and she replied by saying: "Love is Love, no matter what you think of it." And I thought, I can take that and run with it. Love is love. I have stories of familial love -- albeit, looking at it now, rather dysfunctional families to say the least.
I really am running on here, but bear with me. I think the reason I might resonate with an older group of readers is that I'm not afraid to speak about things the way people said them. I worked in a sawmill. I started when I was 19. I'm 65. It's the only job I've ever had. It wasn't what you'd call a "politically correct " atmosphere. We smoked dope and drank on the job. As you can imagine, in a group of people like that, there were many different sorts. Some of the guys I knew, would've been welcome members of the Clan, believing that White is right! Yeah! Others, were radical in their political beliefs. They were handing out Communist newspapers in the parking lot. Some were very into the union and working their way up through the system. Guys were screwing around on their wives, getting caught, getting away with it, losing everything, coming out on top. So everything that I have, everything that I know, comes from that crowd of misfits. They were the worst of men, and the best of men.
If I can reach out and touch your heart as much as I make you think, (where'd that come from?) I'll consider myself a success. And I like that. I've never sold a thing as far as my writing's concerned. I now have 8 paying subscribers which equates to more money than I've ever made in my writing career, but sadly, when you break it down comes out at something like 2¢ a year. So when people reach out and tell me they like my writing, it basically leaves me speechless. I hope I'll be writing for a long time to come. I'm thinking I'll be happy if I can get 20 years on this site. I wouldn't mind 25, but 90's kinda pushing it.
Ben is really great...Don't often get into his Posting as I'm generally tied-up. I keep everything he does and once in a while pull marathons. He's quite gifted. Find myself wondering if he's actually read the books on the shelves in the scene when he reads to us...🤔. Then again...Easy to imagine he has. One doesn't write as he unless reading a tremendous amount.
Maybe, see ya around in Ben's Substack.
Forgot to mention the method used to bring the mundane into the equation as a distraction to re-direct focus from the unfathomable; a Freudian sublimation adding importance to the grinding nothingness of necessities as a way to detract from the significance of mortality; GOSH IT'S RIGHT ON TARGET.
Since you claim to not have had Grandparents you recall...You've obviously decided to wear that hat and have partaken in a grief-stricken pie.
As somebody having eleven Grandparents when born and all are now gone...Three of whom were extended parents I saw, lived with at times and spoke with with every single day of my life until they died...I can tell you of doing a fairly decent job with this piece.
I still cry at times...Not as often and the great times are a joy to recall. Christmas, Easter...Going to Church; some things lost the sense of connectedness and shear wonder of what they once were even though I have Grandchildren and we're at tight as with my Grandparents.
It's taken becoming older to comprehend how my Grandfather could never fully overcome the loss of my Grandmother and Mother as his only child. Though he adored us and was there for us and we for him...We were just not the same.
I'm sorry you don't recall your Grandparents. It's a part of life for me impossible to imagine not having.