Patricia Frank - North Carolina Journal for Women

Pat Frank

NORTH CAROLINA BLISS GOES TO CANADA

Have you ever heard the term, “follow your bliss?” The words were authored by Joseph Campbell, and I’d heard them often enough, but in my mind, I always modified them by saying, “Yeah, sure, right, but what about earning a living?”

I just wasn’t sure one could do work that one’s totally passionate about and still earn a living. I’m still not sure, but this story’s about a joyful episode in my life that is perhaps a peek at what following your bliss is all about … and now I’m going down that road full-speed ahead to see what lies around the corner.

All my life, I’ve wanted nothing more than to write. When I was a wee kid and adults would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always answered, “I want to have a book in the library with my name on it.” The adults would always laugh, and I would feel diminished by their laughter. What was funny? That was what I wanted. To me, libraries were holy places. I loved books and words, and at libraries I could get them for free. Even candy bars, my next favorite thing, cost a dime. Free books? Oh, this was nirvana for me. And to have a volume on the shelves with my name on it seemed the height of blissfulness.

Guess what? Today, at sixty, my dream’s come true. I’m in a book, and even better, I share the glory with twenty other writers—a community of forthright women’s voices. I bask in their company. I have followed my bliss, and dear Readers, it is bliss that I feel today.

Now, I’d been writing all along, and had been fortunate in writing many interesting articles for the web, newspapers and magazines. Some more interesting than others. In fact, the last piece I wrote, prior to penning the book piece, had been about Hispanic cheeses for a trade magazine for Mexican restaurants. After the cheesy piece, I sure welcomed the chance to write about a meaty topic.

The call for submissions was to write a personal essay on not having had children: A meaty topic, indeed. This is just about the biggest and most crucial decision we women make, isn’t it? Today, one out of every ten women are not becoming mothers—for various reasons. Some wanted to; and couldn’t. Some meant to; but didn’t. And some never wanted to at all.

I plunged into the topic, letting long-buried feelings surface about what entered into my decision to not become a mother. Then I submitted the essay for consideration. Six long months crept by, and frankly, I’d forgotten about it. In my mind, I figured I hadn’t made the grade. Then, out of the blue, came an email from the editor saying my essay, “Autumn Fruit,” had been selected as one of the 21 essays to be published in Nobody’s Mother: Life Without Kids.

Well. The joy I felt was enormous—filled my mind and heart with pleasure. It’s rare to feel such joy. This was the culmination of a dream I’d held since I was a sprout, despite well meaning adults laughing at my hopes. In retrospect, they were likely laughing more at such a tyke saying such a big mouthful of words.

The book launch was set for November 9th, in Victoria, British Columbia. I wasn’t going to go. So many miles away; three stops, four airports, the cost of the fare—you know all those arguments we use to talk ourselves out of doing something we really, really want to do?

At the last minute, I decided, “what the heck, I’m going. This is a dream come true, go meet the editor, the other women writers, the publishers, read from your work; go, girl, go.” And so, I went. From Kinston to Atlanta, Atlanta to Seattle, Seattle to Victoria. Flying through wind and rain, air pockets, and lost luggage… and I’m so glad I did.

I was the only “Yank” to attend. Thirteen Canadian writers came to participate and read from their essays.

And me? Well, I proudly represented my home state of North Carolina. And honey, I did us proud.

I introduced Beaufort and North Carolina to the launch crowd by inviting “Y’all come visit” and enticed them with three facts about my home town of Beaufort: First, that Beaufort boasted the oldest house in NC, the Hammock House, built in 1709 by pirates, and the house is reportedly the most haunted house in the South, written up in many books about haunted houses, and contains Blackbeard’s ghost and that of his 13th wife, whom he hung from a live oak tree in the back yard. (Now I knew that some of the foregoing might not be 100% factual, but telling tales is something we Southerners—and adopted Southerners—have developed into a fine art. (Or as one fine spinner of yarns told me, “Here in the South, we don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story.”)

Secondly, we have a British Revolutionary soldier in our 300-year-old Burying Ground, buried in full uniform, standing up, facing England, and saluting King George (this was the soldier’s last request before expiring). And being a kindly folk, we did just that.

And finally, there’s a wonderful practice I discovered since moving to North Carolina—that one can commit the most juicy and racy gossip about someone as long as you end your gossip with “Bless their heart …”

“Bless their heart” became the catch phrase for the rest of the evening. As I read my excerpt, when I came to the bit about my authoritarian father, the MC broadcast personality, Shelagh Rogers, from CBC, interspersed, “Bless His Heart,” and cracked up the audience—and me. Quite a fun moment.

And later, as the audience and the authors and publishers exchanged gossip, “Bless their heart…” was liberally heard … too funny—especially when hearing the phrase pronounced with a Canadian accent.

I felt good about introducing some North Carolina culture into Canada. My gift to the editor was a box of genuine Calabash-style Hush Puppy mix and she was truly pleased to have ownership of such a rare delicacy—or maybe she was just being polite?

Of course, I brought some Canadian culture home with me, too, and now end many sentences with “eh.”

When I finished reading my excerpt, after I viewed the welcoming eyes, heard the applause, and people came up to me with their books to be autographed, I remembered Joseph Campbell and his “follow your bliss.” I had. Here I was, 3000 miles from Beaufort, basking in bliss, and ever more determined to keep on doing it…because, dear Readers, bliss is sweet, and I hope to encourage more of us—and me, too—to gather as much of it as we can.

What flavor is your bliss?

Patricia Frank writes from Beaufort, NC on business and non-business topics for organizations, magazines, newspapers, the web—and books. Nobody’s Mother. Life Without Kids may be ordered directly from Patricia. Cost is $20.95 in check or money order, which includes shipping at media rate. If you’d like a copy for your own or a friend, please contact the blissful author at Patwrites4u@yahoo.com for ordering address.

Contact Pat at (252) 728-1668 or e-mail: Pat@MarketLady.com.