The Writing of My Life Scenario

The Writing of My Life Scenario

Families and Friends,

Distinguished Guests,

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Welcome to the writing of the scenario of my life.

Thank you very much for taking the time

and making the effort to be here tonight.

Hello, Mother.

Thank you for being my Mother.

I did not choose you to be my Mother.

How could I?

I was not a sentient being at the time of my conception,

but a mere twinkle in somebody’s eye.

But I am so glad that you chose me to be your son,

carried me to full term, gave me life,

raised me from infancy to adulthood,

took care of my well being, physical and mental,

shielded me from the unpleasant, the banal,

told me rights from wrongs yet allowed me to make mistakes

and pick up the pieces that lie in their wakes.

For that, I am grateful to you and love you.

Good evening, teachers.

In school, you taught me to read and memorize.

In college, you taught me to think and verbalize,

to judge if what is “right” is in fact wrong

and what is “wrong” might be right actually,

to realize that a “truth” is ever tentative

to be used ‘til another “truth” moseys along

that gives us a better narrative

of what is going on in our world.

In me you instilled also the conviction

that I owe it to humanity as a learned person

to be searching constantly for that better truth.

I am honored and humbled by that conviction.

Hello, friends.

Thanks for coming,

from continents away and centuries past.

I recognize the philosophers and the poets,

the painters, the composers, and many more,

some in dust-laden garbs pockmarked with ink-stains

leaning unsteadily on their canes,

and others arriving in gilded coaches

clothed in silk and adorned with emerald brooches.

Thank you all for being at my side

time and again in years past

to read to me the words,

orchestrate for me the sounds,

display to me the images

that you believe truly, deeply, and sincerely

to be ever true, ever good, and ever beautiful.

Thank you also friends imagined.

I have been looking for you in vain

in the here and now since I know not when.

I conjured you up in moments of profound solitude

out of the words most memorable,

the sounds most harmonious,

the images most beautiful

in my meager possession.

I have treasured your company

on the day of your creation and ever since

Hello, enemies.

You possess nothing that I might covet.

Do I have something you want to beg or borrow?

Is that why you heaped praises and sent me accolades

when from the straight and narrow I veered off,

and you jeered and vented tirades

when to the path of the righteous I stayed close?

Knowingly, you keep infusing my psyche

with words that are querulous,

sounds that are raucous,

and images that are ugly.

Hello, strangers.

I saw you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a taxi.

I ran into you on my way to the local deli.

I waited behind you holding a box of tea in the supermarket.

On occasions, I tipped my hat, flashed a smile in your direction.

But I don’t know you and you don’t know me

yet we do not see the need nor have the intention

to get to know or care much about the other person.

That’s the way it is.

That’s the way it will be.

Good evening, everyone.

I thank you for all the presents:

An upright body, a laid-back temperament,

a childhood cocooned in the silky and nutritious,

an education both real and vacuous,

a good memory, a desire to brood,

a fetish for the new,

a treasure trove of the beautiful, true, and good,

a presence at my side in moments of solitude,

a wariness of accolades and praises

proffered in a multitude.

Thank you.

You have given me

the wherewithal, the source materials,

 the inspiration, the expectations

to write my life scenario with.

Let me now sit down and write it

in my own time, in my own fashion.

I know not what my pen will bring,

and how the editing will proceed.

But rest assured, it will be something

you and I will want to read.

Nguyễn Quốc Lập

aka Lawrence Q. Newton