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Group Writing: In My Imagination
When I was a little girl, I often was conscious of living life in my imagination. I might be walking up the driveway from the school bus in reality, but in my imagination I had suddenly become Aragorn the Ranger, and my noisy siblings just ahead of me probably couldn’t even see or sense my stealthy, long-legged presence behind them.
I might be trailing through the mall behind my mother as we boringly shopped the sales for school shoes, but in my imagination I was Laura Ingalls, providing a running commentary on everything of any interest around us for my blind sister Mary.
Usually, this was harmless, but the day that in my imagination I was Louis Braille, learning how to negotiate the world with no sight, I ended up falling down the basement stairs and giving myself a concussion. I learned a couple of things that day. First, and most important, that the stairs are a little closer than I thought they were to the kitchen door. Second, that careful observation does not mean familiarity with. Sometimes we are completely clueless about things we see all the time or think we know very well. Pay attention!
As I got older, I often faced problems as I imagined my heroes or heroines would have done. As a serious-minded Catholic, I have been trained to look to the life of Christ but also his saints for inspiration on how to live correctly, and I also look to the characters in my imagination. How would they react to certain things? What would they do?
As a middle-aged woman, my imagination feels a lot less nimble than it did when I was 10. I cannot inhabit a character in my own head the way I could then, although I still love playacting and reading aloud, because it gives me a chance to do voices of various characters, which I excell at.
Rather than live as the characters in my imagination, I have become their companion. They are like a crowd of friends in the back my head, offering commentary on my actions. I find myself concerned over what they might think of me as I make choices in my life. Am I a character my favorite characters would like or admire?
Published in Group Writing
Sounds to me like the Characters in your mind are Christ like in their outlook. So glad you have such virtuous friends.
When I was a boy, I imagined my bike was an airplane. I would race down the street and take off. Then circle the neighborhood as all the girls looked on starry eyed . 😊
Well, I also imagined I was a horse (I could run like the wind with my mane and tail flying!), or a lion (I could stalk unseen through the undergrowth), but I don’t think I ever was an airplane. The kitchen stool was my and my sister’s car though (we’d tip it on its side and use the seat as our steering wheel).
When I am bored on the freeway and am not listening to a book, I imagine I have some ancient character (like Julius Caesar) sitting behind me and that I need to explain this modern world to him and answer his questions. But it doesn’t work, because he soon figures out he’s riding in a rather pedestrian vehicle. He wants to get out and ride with whoever is driving the flashiest, fastest vehicle on the road, instead.
Who do you talk to when you’re on your bike?
Oh, this is joyful.
This conversation is an entry in the long line of the Group Writing Series. Our theme for June is Now That’s Imagination!, where we get to peek into the minds of other people. If you would like to share your stories of imagination from your childhood or from the present, or just share a story you made up, our schedule and sign-up sheet awaits you.
I’m not sure. There are usually too many other things to think about, and I can’t imagine being bored. But twenty years ago when I made one of my first history rides into Indiana, on the 3rd day I wanted to visit the village of Haw Patch. I had old 19th century plat maps with places marked on them, and my head was filled with images and stories from settler days. I kind of forgot what century I was in, and on arriving in Topeka (the name of the village ever since the railroad came through) and was brought up short – almost offended – on seeing modern homes and vehicles instead of log cabins with smoke curling out the chimneys. It’s not that Topeka is a normal town. There is an RV factory on the west end of town, but it’s a very Amish town in a very Amish region, though not a tourist destination like another Amish town in the same county. There were plenty of signs of horses and buggies on the road, though it was Sunday morning and there was no actual traffic. At one corner there was a dead horse, an apparent victim of a vehicular accident. I felt like Rip Van Winkle, wondering what had happened to Haw Patch. I rode all around the town, but there was no sign of it. Finally, north of the RV factory, I came to a residence with a hand-painted sign that said, “Haw Patch Buggy Repair,” and I felt vindicated. Somebody else still knew of this place as Haw Patch.
I have since learned about Haw Patch Road that leads from La Grange in the general direction of Topeka, and it is one of my favorite places to ride. It’s a winding road through farmland that is almost entirely Amish. Once I came over a rise and met an oncoming team of work horses. They were in harness, but not pulling anything. A young Amish father, with a baby in arms, was walking behind his young son, who held the reins, and was giving him quiet directions on how to drive the team. I didn’t stop to take a photo as I didn’t want to interrupt what I was seeing and it probably wouldn’t have been appreciated, anyway, so just soaked up the scene in the few seconds I had to enjoy it.
Another thing about imagination on the road. The Michigan International Speedway is built on a site of historical interest – a stopping point on road the settler militias had taken on their way west toward Chicago during the 1832 Black Hawk War. The whole highway is of interest, as it was first the Sauk Trail, the road that Indians had taken from the Mississippi River to join with the British at Detroit to fight the Americans during the War of 1812, and later became a territorial military road between Detroit and Chicago, and soon after the route by which settlers poured into southwest Michigan. There are a lot of old Greek Revival homes along it. Except in Hillsdale County, it’s a great place to ride. (In Hillsdale County it’s a lot more rideable now than it used to be, but the shoulders are not very wide.) There are wide paved shoulders near the Speedway, but I try not to go there during a race event. It is well patrolled by police, but there are too many car drivers who have a “vroom, vroom” mentality to make it a comfortable place for bicycling at those times. I try to avoid being the accidental victim of some driver’s overactive imagination.
I’ve driven through LaGrange countless times. I used to take US 20 over to our lake house (Lake George, IN/MI) from Chicago, and we were regular visitors to the flea market in Shipshewana when I was growing up. That’s all still my (weekend) neck of the woods.
One other historical user of that route was John Dillinger, who used to lay up in Steuben County when the heat was on. There used to be a photo of his gang hanging out at the Lake George Retreat, but unfortunately the restaurant recently burned down.
Your other route, US 12, between Coldwater and Ann Arbor was the road Mom and Dad took when Dad was in law school in Ann Arbor way back when, and so we drove it whenever we visited. Beautiful drive. Thanks for sharing its historical significance!
This is an awesome post! When I was little I slept in an antique brass bed, but when I was awake, that bed was a spaceship, a royal carriage, a car, and an abundance of things. And outside in the yard, the sidewalks were docks and I was in a boat (I grew up in the mountains, no where near water, so this was really imaginary), and Mom provided me with the proper tools, so when I played in the mud, I could make mud pies, cakes and other such things. Oh! The imagination of a child is a wonderful thing!
I do the exact same thing! My passenger is usually Leonardo Di Vinci ;-)
Have you read Bedknob and Broomstick? They made a movie based on it as well, with Angela Lansbury.
Ooh. You picked some challenging company!
I didn’t know about that one, but I knew about some of the Chicago gangsters who’d hide out in the northeast part of Kosciusko County. Did that Lake George Retreat used to serve a big buffet meal for Saturday breakfast? If not, it’s very close to a place where we ate in May 1999, right close to the Indiana-Michigan border, on the road that comes south from Kinderhook. Here is what I wrote about that outing for a bicycle touring list back then. The eating place is mentioned in step 20:
One person who read this said he too had done every one of those things, but not all in one outing.
No, I’ve never read it! But, I will ;-)
@ChrisO, I meant to ask if you by any chance found my pannier/tent when you were at Lake George. I still look for it every time I drive past there. I’ve since bought another backpacking hoop-style tent similar to that one, but the last time I used it was in 2015. Mrs R and I camped together in it until 2004, when she announced that it was getting too difficult to get in and out, and we graduated to a bigger tent. But we haven’t done any camping together since 2014. Too many old people issues — getting up in the middle of the night, etc.
Yes! Mostly because of my Dad. It is a long story and I should write about it ;-) But, the conversations with Leonardo are much like the conversations I had with my Dad in real life.
Yes, you should write about it!
I posted about being a night owl today –> http://ricochet.com/524639/night-owls/
I will. But, gee whiz! There is a LOT of material there.
As a geezer dude in my 60s, my imagination has skyrocketed. I started writing in the mid-90s, but finally published my novels on Amazon in the middle 2010s. Despite my youthful disdain for all things in literature, I’ve grown to appreciate what men and women have written or performed over the years, or even the last few centuries.
When you’re lying in bed in the early morning hours, let your imagination return, especially if you sort of wake up in that state of half-awake, half-asleep. Then get up and grab a pen and paper. Better yet, keep them by the bed.
I’ve often gotten up in the middle of night with an idea, then snuck into the bathroom with my iPhone. I dictate my thoughts (correcting all the stupid errors), then return to the bedroom knowing when I wake up, I have something wonderful to add to my stories, be it a plot twist, a new character, or an aspect of an existing character previously unknown.
You can do it!
I believe you ate at Clay’s. Still there, still thriving…and still clogging arteries.
Sorry…and I still haven’t found any of the cars Dillinger supposedly sunk in the lake when going into hiding. It’s a glacial lake, 80′ deep at one point. Your tent might be down there with Dillinger’s car.
As to the OP, which I apologize for not responding directly to, I’ve lived that experience so much, in terms of pretending and role-playing characters. Actually, it’s sort of a requirement for my work day much of the time. Wonderful post to read and find out I wasn’t the only one. Thanks, Mama Toad!!
Howdy, MT! I grew quite conversant with “The Land of Counterpane” as a youngster/adolescent: Books were passports and Robert Louis Stevenson was my best imaginary friend.
The Land of Counterpane
by Robert Louis Stevenson
When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
and all my toys around me lay
to keep me happy all the day.
And sometimes, for an hour or so,
I watched my leaden soldiers go
with different uniforms and drills
among the bedclothes, through the hills.
And sometimes. sent my ships in fleets
all up and down among the sheets.
Or brought my trees and houses out
and planted cities all about.
I was the giant grave and still
that sits upon the pillow hill,
and sees before him, vale and plain
the pleasant land of counterpane.