On Sunday,
an essay of mine appeared in both the
St. Petersburg (Fla.)
Times and
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. It was played as a Father's Day piece but
could have run on any other Sunday. On
the surface, it appears to be the familiar complaint of a father whose daughter
has a tattoo. But, as happens often in
an essay, it takes some surprising turns and reaches a conclusion, a point of
insight, that the author could never have imagined.
I remember, years ago, listening to the Otis Redding version
of "Try a Little Tenderness," a gentle ballad recorded originally by Bing
Crosby. Otis eases into the story: "You
know she's weary, women do get weary, wearin' the same shabby dress. When she gets weary, try a little
tenderness ..." Each chorus gets a little
more fervent, a little more intense, a little louder, until the ending explodes
with a chorus of almost incoherent, soulful pleading and aspiration. "I wonder if I could ever write a story that
way," I thought -- that is, ease into it and then take the reader some place she
never expected to go.
This essay, about daughters and tattoos, strives to imitate
that structure. I'll be happy to hear
from any of you about your experience reading it.
Listen to Roy's new podcast on
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click here.
What I loved about your story was your ability to...
