A woman in our town, Mrs. Young (may her memory be blessed), often took in foster children. A boy with some physical (and probably emotional) issues, joined our sixth grade class — not an easy thing for anyone to do in a small town where many of us had been together since kindergarten. I think his name was Nick, and I’m sad that I’m not sure. He was taunted and tormented by boys in our class. I knew this. We all knew this. I knew it was wrong. But I said nothing. Uncomfortably, I giggled along when others did too. He didn’t last long with us. Couldn’t have been more than a couple of days. He left the room crying. Later, Mrs. Young came in and let us have it. I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. And I should have. And I still remember that feeling. Maybe that’s why I remember. I knew I had done something awful by doing nothing. I knew my character was not what I wanted it to be. I knew my silence had been as damaging as someone else’s words. I knew I was very, very wrong.

If Mitt Romney has actually forgotten his hurtful deeds, is that because he never understood them as hurtful? Or, is he simply following some campaign guru’s advice? Either way, I find it awfully hard to believe he forgot. I remember the feel of the chair on my butt when Mrs. Young was yelling at our class. I remember digging my fingernails into the wood of the seat. I remember repeating to myself, don’t cry, don’t cry, because even though I was ashamed, I was in sixth grade and didn’t want to be seen as a cry-baby.

What does anything in this discussion have to do with writing? One of my favorite characters, the protagonist in my WIP, in early drafts was too perfect, too polly-anna-ish. She was a chronic conflict avoider — go figure. But life doesn’t work like that, and neither do good books. That aspect of her character was something I had to consider and let her evolve past my own foibles. She has, and hopefully, I’m getting there too.

Steve Almond kicks it out of the park today on The Rumpus on this same subject. Give it a whirl. Sometimes I think it’s a damn fine idea to think about things we’ve done that we’re ashamed of — it’s an old story, isn’t it? We’re destined to repeat what we forget. Quite a lesson in there for my politcally-averse brain. How ’bout you?

The post Shame, Memory and Mitt appeared first on Pam Writes.