The Writing Group

Surprises

I hate surprises. I like to know what is going on. I like to know what is going to happen from one thing to the next. Surprises are almost always not good. When I am surprised, I feel anxious.

My wife always loved surprises. All through the years I did my best to give her good exciting surprises. This was not easy because she is very intuitive. So when ever I try to surprise her, she always seemed to know what was up.

When the children were young we made it a point to surprise them. You know; birthdays, holidays and especially Christmas. But as they grew up this was more and more difficult. We would always hide their presents so that they wouldn’t know what they were getting. We would lock them up in a closet or some other storage place. But through the years they would become less and less surprised. Until by and by there were no surprises at all and they seemed to know what ever it was they were getting.

I guess there is a difference between pleasant surprises and not good surprises. I’m always hoping to be pleasantly surprised like landing a job or making new friends. But I don’t expect them. I expect the worst. I hope for the best. That way when something bad happens, I’m not surprised and when something good happens, well – surprise!

The Writing Group: Foreword

The people who contributed to this collection of pictures, poetry and prose range roughly in age from thirty to eighty. Some live or have lived in the Tedford Shelter or in their cars or in tents in the woods; some live in subsidized housing. Some are unemployed; some live on disability checks; some have part time or seasonal jobs; others are retired.

What we all have in common is The Gathering Place at 5 Tenney Way, Brunswick, which is open Monday through Friday from 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. for coffee, snacks, companionship, cards, puzzles and on Thursday afternoons for writing.

Over the past four years, I’ve hosted anywhere from one to a dozen writers who have shared stories, laughed (a lot), and cried (a little). I usually throw out a general topic—the first, as I recall, was “Scars,” and the latest, as I write this, was “Doors I have Walked Through--- although people can (and do) write about anything that is on their minds. Some of the topics I’ve given will be self-evident as you read; other topics won’t matter: what’s important is the response. Some of the pieces have been edited from grammar and spelling, but we’ve tried to maintain the original voice and content.

When we first began writing four years ago, some people thought we were having an English class, so they moved as far away from our table as they could; when we began sharing what we’d written, however, they can back, at first to listen, and then over the next few weeks, to join us.

Why? For many of us, writing is a way to make sense of the world, especially when our minds are looping around a particular problem. What I’ve also learned is that all of us need to be heard—listened to, respected—especially if we’ve fallen on hard times and feel that no one care anymore.

What else have I learned over the past four years? Probably the most important thing is that despite common stereotypes, homelessness and poverty have many faces, many voices and that both homelessness and poverty go far beyond not having a physical place to live or a specific job to get to. “Homeless” might mean losing a job that has given you an identity for twenty years, losing a spouse, a child or a friend, losing your health. “Poverty” may mean any number of spiritual or emotional deprivations.

Someone once said that going into The Gathering Place, he couldn’t tell who was a volunteer and who was a client. Four years of writing and listening to stories have shown me that’s because there really isn’t that much of a difference between any of us.

--Rick Wile
Writing Group
The Gathering Place