By Brenda Cannon Henley
I love words! As long as I can remember, I’ve loved words. One of my precious aunts who lived in my Mama Cole’s home where I was born thoroughly enjoyed telling the story of my love of books and words even at only a few months old. She says she came into what would now be classified as a “family room” and found me sitting on the floor with a book in my hand jabbering away as though I were earnestly reading. Only problem was she soon discovered that the little children’s book was upside down.

So, it seems that not only did I excel at reading at an early age, but I was so advanced, I could master the story completely upside down.

Fast-forward a few years and I found myself in ninth grade English class and was happy to find the subject for that quarter was creative writing. I loved it! Most of my friends did not. The turned up noses, deep frowns, and expressions of panic, fear, and grief on the faces of my classmates let me know the greater number of students did not share my glee.

Mrs. Nowell assigned five subjects, all fairly mundane and seemingly not in most of our young teen wheelhouses of knowledge. I chose the subject of a doorknob about which to write. I was looking straight to my right at the object that allowed us to open the heavy wooden door letting us into our classroom from the hallway. That particular one was metal, and from the appearance seemed fairly old and honestly not terribly significant.

But that didn’t hinder me in the least. I started writing and lifted my pencil when I had filled two pages with words, and hopefully, the correct punctuation. I mentioned that the doorknob was important if one needed to go in or out of the room and elaborated on various reasons it might become meaningful to one or more of us.

I covered the locked door, the possibility of theft, safety, protection, storage, inclusion and exclusion, and several more ideas that bounced through my mind.

A week later, Mrs. Nowell stood by my old wooden desk, and said quickly, “Go to the office and call your mother and tell her you will be late coming home.” I am certain I looked puzzled. I had never been in detention or after school punishment in my life. I was beginning to feel real fear. Then, one of the best teachers in the entire world, as far as I am concerned, uttered seven words that changed my life.

She said, “You have talent. You are just lazy.” And then she went on to explain that she was putting me on the school newspaper staff. I proudly became Features Editor for The Echo of Clarkston High School in Clarkston, Georgia. She also advised me I was on the annual yearbook staff. I would remain on both for the remainder of the four years of my high school career.

I quickly found I loved interviewing people, getting correct facts, adding bits of humor here and there, asking thought provoking questions, and I learned to listen well. Every person has a story and most are willing to tell their’s, if they are convinced the writer is sincere, truthful, trustworthy, and genuinely interested.

The professional trail that Erma Nowell pushed me onto in that dusty old classroom in 1957 has served me well, earned my living, taken me places I would have never seen, and introduced me to hundreds of people I would never have met. It is still all about words. Listening to them, researching each and every one of them, determining the meaning, and fitting them together in a coherent structure that is engaging to the reader.

My continual prayer is that I will never be a disingenuous person or writer.

Brenda Cannon Henley can be reached at 409 781 8788, or
[email protected]

[BCH: Dec-13-2022]