Sunday, February 24, 2008
The Person People Call Neal Cory
My father liked to read, but wasn't a writer, as far as I can tell. Other than a post card he sent back to his parents on a trip to the 1939 New York World's Fair, this school essay he wrote in 1931, at the age of twelve, is the only example of his writing I have. The first page is typed, with corrections from the teacher. The second page is handwritten, for reasons unknown to me. I believe I inherited from him a midwestern anabaptist tendency to self-deprecation. If you click on the pages below, they should enlarge for easier reading.
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1 comment:
"He is not at all conceited. In fact, he thinks very little of himself." Can't get much more self-deprecating than that!
This is an impressive skewering of the typical fluffy "biography pieces" put out by most 12-year-olds. If he was alive today, maybe he'd be writing for the Onion. :)
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