A note from our president, Clover

April 2014

I’m going to tell you an ugly story about myself.

In my childhood it was a common occurrence to have strange kids show up in our backyard. My dad refurbished our garage into a beautiful Chiropractic clinic , which meant that his patient’s kids would go out back to play while they waited on their parents to get their spines cracked back into order.

When I was around 13, my friends and I went out back to jump on the trampoline. There were these girls around our age just sitting out there, staring blankly, not talking.

We tried to talk to them but they wouldn’t say a word.

Here’s the ugly part. Since they wouldn’t talk to us, and well, were weird, we started making faces at them, and saying things like, “why you so sad?” in baby voices. We were brats. The three girls never responded.

When we went inside, my mom stopped us at the door and began telling us how those poor girls had just an hour before been bike riding and saw their friend hit and dragged behind a car, instantly killed.

I’ve never felt more worthless than I did at that moment.

It’s been close to four decades but I still remember that sharp lurch of shame.

It taught me two things:

First, I never wanted to be responsible for hurting anyone like that again.

Second, I don’t know a damn thing about what is going on inside another person.

Fast forward. The day I first walked into La Hacienda Ranch, I had a chronically ill child, mounting medical bills, stupid job I hated, overwhelmed husband, and I just wanted a place I could leave that all behind for a few hours. I didn’t share anything about my personal life with anyone. I just wanted to be treated like a normal person.

I tell you this because you never never know what that writer smiling and sitting next to you is dealing with. Some of us will tell anybody who wants to listen. Others, like myself, keep it quiet.

At North Texas, we have members dealing with divorce, with ailing parents, ailing spouses, health, emotional, or mental issues at home, cancer scares and cancer realities. We have members worried about their children, worried about finances, struggling with inadequacies when everyone around them seems successful.

We have members who have lost their spark for writing and want it back. We have members who are so hopeful their faces shine with it. We have members who have been rejected, rejected, rejected, yet still manage to climb back up that hill…

We have members that, for them, our meetings are their only few hours a month where they get to feel like a normal person.

I am so inspired and impressed by you. At your sincere willingness to encourage each other. To support each other. You’re truly happy for each other’s successes and sad when things don’t go a writer’s way. I love that about North Texas. This group has unknowingly gotten me through some of the worst times of my life. I’m proud to call you friends. Keep it up for each other. Continue to be supportive and encouraging.

Let us always be hopeful and helpful.

May we continue to be kind to each other.

And when we fail in that, because we sometimes will, being human and all that, cultivate forgiveness and allow us a chance to do better. Because like I said, we don’t know what is going on inside another person or what they are struggling with.

I love you guys, truly, and am honored to be counted among you.

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