I wasn't ready to write this. The feeling of sadness I feel couldn't possibly relate to those of Toni Morrison's family. Still, I find myself lost by the lost. I find myself hopelessly depressed by the realization that a person I have never met is gone from this point in time. The fact that she won't have the ability to experience things in this world anymore saddens me. The connections she must have made personally as well as publicly. The moments she shared with people she loved, hated, remembered and forgotten. I wish I had one of those moments. In passing at a book signing or a respected award ceremony. I wish she had one of those moments with me. I'd wish I'd have given her a chance to meet another young person influenced by her stories. She had a certain way with words when describing things a simple as buildings while simultaneously giving the plot what it needed, what it deserved.
My favorite chapter, the one that really got me, was the first chapter in Songs of Solomon. First, read in my 11th graded high school English course under Mrs. Brown, I found the world of Macon Dead and his family gave birth to my imagination to unbelievable heights. "Not Doctor Street" was a property in a town introduced in the first few paragraphs with a history behind the name so lovely, a blind man could visualize it. (I know I'm exaggerating, but hear me out.) This was a coming of age story about a character that goes deep into his family history. Often time, Morrison explores family in her stories so that's no surprise, but she chooses to give the history of the Dead family while presenting the attempt of a man trying to fly off the building. All leading up to the birth of the main protagonist; Macon Dead.
I was hooked. Yes. I also was confused and had to read it several times over to get this. (I was seventeen, SUE ME.) Understanding it after a while really sold me as following the characters further into this world of betrayal, conspiracy, friendship, family, love, and so much more.
I watched videos of her interviews often while attending college remotely. She kept me from doubting what I was doing studying writing online. Toni's smile while remembering one of the many stories she created while explaining what we perceived as storytelling kept my spirits up sometimes. It said to me that I am a storyteller. Someone who creates worlds in other peoples imagination.
My dream is mine and I decide what it will be.
Like so many of my literary heroes before her(August Wilson, James Baldwin) another storyteller has gone on. But I must say, my knowledge of Morrison was well versed by the time of her death this year, unlike Wilson & Baldwin. By the time I had heard of either work, they had already past before the time of technology and social media big boom. But with Morrison, I wasn't around during her rise to where she was, being only born in 1989. But I imagine those times where somewhat similar to the current political atmosphere today. Distrust in leadership, police brutality, the threat of foreign hostilities. She has seen this world as we did growing ever more active, ever more moving inside of our story as a society in this nation as a whole and yet, somehow retelling a similar(more current) story again.
I had realized a film my mother watched when I was a child called Beloved, starring Oprah Winnphey was based on her book. The same film that scared me and gave me nightmares after viewing. So I guess in a way you can say Morrison had influenced me at an even earlier point than high school. (If you don't count the emotional scaring, courtesy of the filmmakers) So why write this? You may ask. Is it a blog saluting my fellow fallen writer? My online confession of how much of her work influenced my decision to be a storyteller and follow my dreams of filmmaking? All of those and none. I'm writing this to mark this day. This one day I sat in front of my laptop, sighed in sadness, and type the words I wasn't ready to write this. And I suppose I wasn't, just as none of us were when we woke up and realized that powerful voice that gave us so much had been laid to rest.
I love stories. I love her stories, and I'm sure that if you ever read something she wrote, you've have experienced "it" too. The moment Toni Morrison made you forget you were reading a book and instead placed you inside the room with her characters. Giving you every private moment slowly, intimately. Ending chapters using the same number of characters began but different, altered by a truth, or a moment of emotional intensity.
Before you know it, it's over, you put the book down, turn the audiobook off and know what you read was meant for you. Toni, Thank you for the gift of inspiration you gave. Though we never met, you'll never hear of my blog, or give me the pleasure of telling you how much you made a book mean to me, I am proud to be a part of the generation that loved and respected you.
