I have a confession to make. I cry during movies…and while reading…and sometimes during songs. I wept like a baby when Little Foot’s mom passed in The Land before Time and again when Bubba died in Forrest Gump’s arms. I baptized the final chapters of The Fault in our Stars with way too many 30-year-old man tears and just a few days ago my eyes glistened while listening to one of my wife’s romance novels as we drove back to Ohio after a family vacation (Damn you, Nicholas Sparks!)
I am emotional man from a long line of
emotional men and when moved just right, I become a blubbering idiot. I simply
can’t help it, it’s who I am.
I knew nothing of
this penchant for waterworks until fifth grade when I felt warm tears streak
down my cheeks as my teacher, Mrs. Jones, read the climactic chapter in what
she said was her favorite novel. It’s
one thing to sob in a darkened movie theater or shed a tear while reading by
flashlight in one’s bedroom, it’s another thing entirely to cry while sitting
on the reading rug with your classmates. So, even though I wasn’t the only one, I remember my embarrassment vividly.
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| Full Disclosure: I'm not a Pokemon |
Who’s responsible for making fifth grade me cry? Who’s to blame for my embarrassment?
Mrs. Jones? The Fifth Grade Curriculum? My over-sensitivity? (Definitely not that last one)
The answer: Wilson
Rawls…and his wife.
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| Don't be fooled by their 1950's neighborly looks, these two are trouble. |
Wilson Rawls may not be a household name in the literary
world like Stephen King or J.K. Rowling but there is a good chance you’ve read
one of his books, most likely the one about a boy, his two hounds, and a certain
scarlet fern.
If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m referring to the
beloved children’s novel Where the Red Fern Grows.
If you’ve read the book you probably understand why fifth grade me christened the reading rug with his tears. What you may not know, however, is that Mr. Rawls’s most
famous work would have been lost to ashes had it not been for his wife.
From a young age, and despite little formal education,
Woodrow Wilson Rawls dreamed of writing a book like his childhood hero Jack
London. While bouncing around from job
to job during the Great Depression, Wilson spent his free time scratching out manuscripts
on any scrap of paper he could find, including old grocery bags.
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| Back in my day, we used them as book covers... |
In total he wrote five manuscripts, but due
to the poor spelling and complete lack of punctuation, he was too embarrassed to
let anyone see them and for years considered himself a failure. Stifling
his career before it began.
But there was a flicker of hope and her name was Sophie Ann Styczinski.
Sophie was a budget analyst
in Idaho. She and Wilson met while
working for the Atomic Energy Commission and after falling in love planned a
wedding for August of 1958. Though Wilson
loved his fiancé dearly, he still considered himself a failure and set his mind
to finally killing his dream of being an author before Sophie could ever discover it.
So, two weeks before the wedding he burned all of his manuscripts and
short stories.
But like a good horror movie monster, some dreams just refuse to
die.
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| Jaime, your really pale boyfriend is awake |
A few months after
the wedding, Mr. Rawls finally revealed his dream to his wife and confessed to
burning all the manuscripts. To Wilson’s surprise, Sophie encouraged him to
write again and after quitting his job, Wilson scrawled out the first draft of
what would eventually become Where the Red Fern Grows. Sophie then edited the draft, typed it up and
submitted it for publishing.
The novel was
first serialized in the Saturday Evening
Post before being traditionally published by Double Day. Still, it would be another six years before
librarians and teachers discovered the novel and turned it into the hit it
remains today. Through all that time,
Sophie’s faith in and support for her husband never faltered.
In the words of the author himself, “She bought the
groceries, paid the rent and growled at neighbors who gossiped about her lazy
husband.”
Wilson Rawls would go on to author another book and share
his story and passion for writing as a public speaker, but he never forgot or failed
to mention the great role his beloved wife played in making his dream of making
fifth graders cry a reality.
I kid. I kid. I don’t
really hold a bitter grudge against Wilson and Sophie for making fifth grade me
cry and I’m not ashamed anymore. Where
the Red Fern Grows is a damn good book and the way I see it, Wilson and
Sophie earned those tears. But the
lesson I learned from the life of Wilson and Sophie Rawls isn’t about tears or
even red ferns, it’s about love.
In my opinion, the qualities that make an author special (passion, creativity, voice) come from the soul but as Wilson and Sophie Rawls proved, it
doesn’t hurt to have a soulmate to help along the way.
http://www.eduplace.com/kids/hmr/mtai/rawls.html
