By moonlight, early that morning, you began the labor
that almost two years and a long first draft later,
resulted in such a horrific, and still potent, terror.
Thank you, thank you, my sweet (and still my) girl, Mary:
the gift you brought into my life has been extraordinary.
Those so-called scholars, steeped in their damnable pride,
who dismiss your accomplishment with such snide
remarks must now regret their crassly stupid error.
Starward
Author's Notes/Comments:
Since Christmas Day, 1963, Mary Shelley has been a blessing in my life. Because of her example, which I first began to take seriously in 1967, I wanted to become a writer.
During my undergraduate years, 1976-80, most of the liberal arts departments (including History, my own major) required both a sophomore and a senior research project. In the History Department, the sophomore project, the central part of a required course entitled The Craft Of History (we majors called it the Crap of History) was the assembling of one hundred index cards, written in proper bibliographical fashion, presenting an assembly of monographs, essays, and articles published in professional journals on some particular topic (exclusive of biography). The topic I chose was the evolving interpretation of Mary Shelley's novel, Frankenstein. During the approximately four weeks of the process, I was subjected to excessive verbal pressure---from professors, and others as well---to alter the subject of my research, as Mary Shelley had never been in favor of the English department, and was considered a "hack" writer. That part of 1978 was, for other reasons, one of the worst segments of my life, and I was just angry enough to refuse all the pressure. I assembled my cards, and received a passing grade in the class.
Oddly enough, my defiance, and my devotion to Mary Shelley (which continues to this day), caused something of a minor stir at my college. During a private reunion lunch in 2001, at which I would again meet my former faculty advisor after a full twenty-one years, his first remark to me in the corridor outside the banquet room was, "Is Mary Shelley still your girl?" And I responded with a loud and resounding, "Yes!"
I can't think of a better way
I can't think of a better way to celebrate your special day than to write a tribute to the one who ignited your imagination, led you to your creative path and helped create the stellar writer we enjoy today. Of course, you can call such a consequential force in your life "my girl". And it looks like you had the last laugh over the pretentious faculty members mired in their shortsighted view of what is great writing.
Now all these years later, your talent still manifests in sparkling, engaging works such as this. Thank you Mary Shelley!
A pure delight to read and comment on this.
Thank you so very much for
Thank you so very much for those words. That we share a respect for her is one of the many planks in our friendship. And in a way, I felt flattered that my faculty advisor---who was said to have maintained a long list of names of students whom, he believed, had disrespected him in any way (I would have been at the list's top)---brought her into the conversation for me. Oddly enough, at the luncheon, not only was Mary Shelley mentioned, but we also discussed Mary Kelly, and he begrudged me that as well.
Starward