Blog 33

Third in a Series: Responsibility as a Writer

I’d like to return once more to the theme of my sense of responsibility as a writer (an
d reader), the third in this series. The first more narrowly focused upon self, the second more broadly examined connection to country and the world. This time I’d like to explore middle ground, to examine the issue of personal responsibility as a writer and citizen in relation to family and neighborhood (as an extension of family).

Responsibility to family might be assumed; in my case, it can be. My wife is the sun, our children orbiting planets, our pets reflected light, all of them the source of joy and, more constantly, satisfaction in life. Motivated by caring for family as I approach sixty years of marriage, can I extend at least some of that bone-deep caring to my neighbors, and in that remain connected to country and world? A fair question: How do I actively attempt to carry out a drawing-board intention? One caring act at a time.

As part of my daily physical exercise, I regularly walk through my neighborhood, an approximately one-mile circuit. More than limiting my route to mere physical exercise, I greet my neighbors. I introduce myself to those I don’t know or am less familiar with, the icebreaker often a beloved dog. I request first names as a starter, offering mine in advance. Foremost, I always ask a dog-owner if she or he is comfortable with me petting their animal, requesting the animal’s name at the outset. Rarely does a loving owner refuse my interest.

From that moment, I strive to memorize the names of the neighbor and the pet. Henceforth, I not only watch for them, but I try to watch out for them, to stay attuned to a neighborly flow of information as to their welfare, alert to the possibility one may be struggling. I would describe my citizenship attitude as microcosmically universal – again, one act of caring at a time. As a citizen, I’ll engage a neighbor in conversation or, as more often happens, I’ll respond to their attempt at engagement, allowing the other to share what they wish. If my views diverge, I try to listen as fully as I can, requesting clarification when needed, then offering my view non-argumentatively or choosing not to in consideration of moment, purpose and neighborliness. When I encounter a disappointing difference of opinion, I try to develop a sense of why that particular view is so important to them. This relates to my perceived roles as writer and reader. I try always to be alert to a possible story and I require myself to read divergent views, i.e. the whole as the sum of its parts.