Beginnings

“The beginning is the most important part of the work.” — Plato

No shit, Plato. Without the beginning, we can't go anywhere, can we? 

It reminds me of a production of The Miracle Worker I was in years ago. I had the first line in the play, as the curtain rises and the doctor is discovered examining baby Helen Keller after a serious health incident and reporting back to Ma and Pa Keller. I think it was the only line I had, but oh, so important: "She'll live." 

Had the curtain gone up and I had said, "She's dead," the show really couldn't go on, could it? 

Anyway, this is my beginning. The beginning of my journals, that is, which might as well be the beginning of my story. I began keeping a journal at the age of 13, on August 16, 1979, writing with a thin magic marker in a blue composition book issued by New England School Supply (A Milton Bradley Company, 40 pages). I wrote on the front cover in big blue letters "The Mitchell Saga, volume 1: The True Story," and referred to everyone (even myself) in the third person. I think I had some thoughts of being a writer, even then.

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