Native son Thomas Wolfe’s birthday is coming up. I’m jumping the gun a little - he was born Oct. 3, 1900 - but I figured we should note it. It fits, after all, with Edgy Mama’s writerly purpose here.
Wolfe, of Look Homeward Angel fame, grew up in Asheville. He immortalized this town in his book. Most people know the reference, though I think few have read it. It’s worth it if you have not. It’s worth it because, like so many, Wolfe did the only thing he knew how to do. He lived his purpose - writing. He found his story and got it down.
Wolfe lies buried here in Asheville, in Riverside Cemetery. It’s a beautifully solemn place. You should go sometime. And spend a minute at his gravesite, contemplating whether or not you’re living your purpose.
..a stone, a leaf, an unfound door; of a stone, a leaf, a door. And of all the forgotten faces.
Naked and alone we came into exile. In her dark womb we did not know our mother’s face; from the prison of her flesh have we come into the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this earth.
Which of us has known his brother? Which of us has looked into his father’s heart? Which of us has not remained forever prison-pent? Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone?
O waste of loss, in the hot mazes, lost, among bright stars on this most weary unbright cinder, lost! Remembering speechlessly we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When?
-Thomas Wolfe
(Posted by Ash, even though it says Edgy Mama. Just want to be clear on that so y’all can jump on me, not her, if you don’t like this, just like Eddo ravaged me for my wi-fi post and so shamed me that I took it down and replaced it with this.)
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Thanks, sweetie. Love this. Love Wolfe. As always you inject a bit of Ash Vegas into all you do!
Which of us has not remained forever prison-pent? MMmmmmmmm.
I’ll be dipped. This is the first time I knew Wolfe wrote in Welsh. Or maybe that’s the Inexplicity language. Hard to tell.
To show what a nerd I was in high school - my friends and I would meet at the Thomas Wolfe house (The Old Kentucky home) for fun times on a Sat afternoon. We knew the tour guides’ talk better than most of them. And our mantra was that we would never go home again, once we got out of Buncombe County. (and yes, I moved back for 13 years and have spent the last three months grieving the town and its inhabitants). Thanks for the Wolfe fix!