----- Original Message -----
From: Joe Mazzella
To: [email protected]
Cc: joseph mazzella
Sent: Saturday, April 03, 2010 5:09 PM
Subject: reformatted story: A Treasured Pen
A Treasured Pen
By: Cynthia Groopman
There are little surprises in life that mean a great deal to a child during
a special occasion and they are part of the treasure chest of cherished
memories. When I was in sixth grade in 1960, in June of that year, we had a
beautiful graduation ceremony. My parents were proud of my graduation and gave
me a little gift.They knew that I loved to write and was a budding author. As
they placed the neatly wrapped little box into my small hand, my face began to
smile with a radiance as bright as the sunshine on a June morning.
I was told not to open the package until the little get together we were
having at our house in honor of the graduation.
I wondered with great anticipation during the nighttime when I awoke what the
surprise was and could hardly wait to open it. I counted the days to Sunday
since the graduation was on a Wednesday. Anticipation for me was something
wonderful since it made me imagine and wonder and surprises were just what a
child like me desired.
Sunday arrived. Several guests arrived, paternal grandmother, maternal uncle
and aunt and my older cousin.
We had a nice chat and there was a cake and snacks. I played the piano which I
usually did when guests arrived for a gathering and sang as well. To me that
was talent time.
Then, it was time to open the gifts. My aunt and uncle gave me cash in a
wallet greeting card with such a poetic saying.
My grandmothers also gave me a monetary gift, a United States Saving Bond which
will grow as I grew, as they softly said to me. Then there was that little box
that fascinated me that was from my parents. I opened the little box gently
with a smile and there was a beautiful parker pen.
Oh, I desired one since I began to write letters and stories. Parker pens
at that time were the best ones that were manufactured and it was an honor to
be given one since many adults had them. I also received a beautiful writing
tablet with my name on each page. Oh, that was a writer's dream gift, a new
prestigous pen and a writing table with my own name on it.
Oh, how beautiful the gifts were and I kissed mom and dad and told them
that I was going to write and write and be a writer when I grew up. Time
passed. The pen was used to write for the Junior High Newspaper, Yearbook, to
write letters to grandmothers who were in vacation in the country, to write to
penpals in other countries who were my age, and also to begin to write some
poetry.
As time went by and I grew up I began to use the typewriter for college
work and for writing. The little pen was placed neatly in its original box and
put in one of the drawers of my dad's secretary desk. A few months ago as I was
going through one of those drawers, the little pen greeted me and as I touched
it and felt its point, I was basking in nostalgia land and those beautiful days
of childhood and teenagehood, were glowing with golden sunshine in my mind. Oh,
what a wonderful time I had in nostalgia land basking in warm radiant memories
of youth bliss. Although the pen is not used any longer, it is a cherished
possession. By the way, I did become a writer, using the typewriter and then in
2002 the word processor and have had a book of poetry published, my stories in
braille magazines and my poems in magazines and on writers' webpage groups.
I felt the smiles of warmth and pride form my parents when I held that pen
gentle in my hand and also felt proud of myself that I fulfilled the promise
that I have made 50 years ago when I said that I will become a writer when I
grew up. I am 61 years old now but there is a child in my heart, one full of
laughter, glee, and smiles and also precious memories more priceless than
diamonds gold and silver.
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