Blog City Prompt Forum

Write an anecdote. According to Merriam-Webster.com an anecedote comes from the Greek word anekdota, which means unpublished. It is defined as a short short story concerning a funny or interesting occurrence or event.


I did not start writing poetry until the fifth grade. My fifth-grade teacher read us poems by Walt Whitman and Henry David Thoreau. After the readings, she had us try to emulate their poetry. She liked my poems (Song of Myself and A Walk in the Woods) and read them to the class. She encouraged me to keep writing. (I am supposed to dedicate my first book to her.) Around that same time, we had a Career Day where we were all to dress up as the professionals we wanted to be when we grew up.

I did not have the resources for a costume because when I told my Dad about it, he suggested that I go as a Pioneer (a full-time volunteer evangelist). That was his goal for me - become a Pioneer. Briefly, when I was about eight, I wanted to be a Pioneer because I saw a girl one year older than me at one of our Assemblies (big church gathering with people the whole region) doing it. Beyond that, I think I wanted to be Miss Piggy or maybe a ballerina.

But that day in class, all the kids were getting up in their professional costumes:

“I wanna be a doctor, because I can make sick people feel better.”

“I wanna be a nurse and marry a doctor.”

“I wanna be a fire fighter just like my Dad.”

“I wanna be a police officer and catch all the bad guys.”

“I wanna be a psychologist, ‘cause those are the doctors that make the most money.”

“I wanna be a DJ and wake people up at 7:30 every morning.”

And Shaunda…what do you want to be?

What could I say? What could I say? I couldn’t say an elephant trainer for the circus. I know I couldn’t be Miss Piggy. I couldn’t dance. I didn’t look like the ballerinas in the book of Alvin Ailey’s dancers - black like me - but lithe and graceful and lacking my “chubby little legs” (which was meant as a complement before you turned eleven). Besides, another girl picked ballerina.

I didn’t want to pick something someone else already picked. I didn’t have a costume. I was amazed at all these kids who knew what would happen to them when they grew up. I knew my Dad’s plan for me:

Be a Pioneer. Maybe even a Special Pioneer. Maybe, maybe a Missionary which is even more special than a Special Pioneer because she gets to go to other countries. If she goes with her husband. It was a goal. A worthy goal? My Dad thought so. But I already knew.

I. Did. Not. Want. Pioneer.

So, I reached in my backpack and pulled out the black and white composition notebook my Grandmother gave me. Then I straightened up, touched the tip of my pencil to my lip, and said:

"I want to be a writer."

(Pioneer: def: v., to evangelize for really, really long periods of time that you don’t get paid for.)
Pioneer: def: n. a person who talks and talks and talks about Jesus, like it's their not for profit job. There are categories:
Auxiliary Pioneer - part time non profit volunteer
Regular Pioneer - full time non profit volunteer
Special Pioneer - full time with lots of OT; some domestic travel required
Missionary - full time, international travel required; women accepted, with husband preferred. Small stipend included.


everyjones