Spring Forward
Leon Hale had a phrase he applied to people he thought highly of. He would say “he’s a feeling person.” That is, a person who expresses empathy in his, or her, behavior.
He was such a person, himself, of course. And I’m like a modern-day Diogenes circulating with the lantern of my attention, looking for such people. Smiling when I find them. (Reading is said to cultivate empathy.)
I’m thinking of Hale this week for several reasons. He loved spring and all it stands for. Hope, especially, and all the new adventures to come. Also, the return of seasonal pleasures—wildflowers and the many trumpeting colors of green in the landscape. If spring took too long in coming, as we all know, he would go and find it. Often bring it back with him.
It seems ironic that he would die in spring, on March 27 two years ago. And now the two are entwined for me, so that spring will always carry this scent of loss.
A book of his had been published three weeks earlier. And next week another is being published--paper and eBook editions of A SMILE FROM KATIE HATTAN, his first collection of columns from the Houston Post.
The places he visits in that volume, including several in Fayette County, have done their share of changing. And the specific people he lovingly rendered have passed on. But the laughter and—yes, the feelings—are evergreen. It amazes me how fresh these pieces seem, how funny and human. Immersively Texan in the best way.
I’ve done a good bit of thinking about what made Hale different from most newspaper writers. And I think it involves those feelings I mentioned earlier.
He did not shrink from allowing what he felt to show in print. This allowed the reader to connect with him on a personal level, like we long to do with friends, sometimes successfully.
For many readers he gave voice to personal thoughts and reactions and memories they would never say out loud.
And he did it with enjoyable unpredictability and self-deprecating humor. He avoided politics, too.
Since he died I’ve re-read all his books. They were my bedtime reading, for most of the first eighteen months. His voice is there, and also his sensibility. What made him himself. Unique.
I study his work, in fact. His ease with colloquial Texas speech was almost the first thing I noticed about him— and it continues to help me write better.
Since he died I’ve met several people he taught at Sam Houston in Huntsville many years ago. They loved his classes, they tell me, and the remembered enjoyment brings light to their faces. Wouldn’t I like to have sat in on a class? Oh, yes. Absolutely.
Doing that might have given me pointers—on teaching, as well as what I’ve absorbed from reading him. Because I’m about to try it. Teaching, that is.
Many people have stories to tell. Some say they’ve tried, but they can’t get started. Others find they can’t move forward very far. I hope to share the methods I use to cope with both maddening obstacles.
There are so many ways to tell your own personal story— or the stories you make up.
Please join me as we explore them in a free workshop at the Fayette Public Library. We begin on April 4, 10-11:30 a.m. and we’ll continue every other week for a while if there’s interest. You can register by calling the library (979) 968-3765. The needs of participants will shape the format of the workshop.
Readers can contact Hale at bfhale2017@gmail.com