400 Words


About 400 Words

400 Words is a storytelling project. It is a print magazine and a website, consisting of true stories, none over 400 words, by ordinary people on assigned themes. It's about the documentation of everyday life, saying a lot by saying a little. You can learn more, or order a copy, or tell a story of your own.

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Issue 2, Compulsions:
What can you not not do?

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Issue 1, Autobiographies:
Tell the whole story of your life in 400 words or less.

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Marija, 44, Wells

I was born old, and I get younger every year. My first years of life were spent in body casts to correct a medical problem. Usually we face medical difficulties when we’re old. I hope I faced all mine in those early years. Growing up with alcoholic parents and troubled siblings forced me to take the responsible role in the family. I was cooking family dinners by age 10, and taking care of a newborn at 14, learning the challenges of changing diapers and 2 a.m. feedings. By age 16, my family shattered, the parents abandoning the children and going their separate ways, and the baby was out of my life forever. Painful moments, these.

Struggling to graduate high school and not able to afford college, I was jettisoned into the world of work. I took the first job that came my way – computer punch card operator, and learned by osmosis the ins and outs of computers. Steady on my feet, I then began growing young. I fell in love with a wonderfully unconventional older man when I turned 23, and we danced together for many years. We planted gardens and discovered how easy it was to grow beans and tomatoes. I learned the joys of digging in the dirt and making mud pies. We watched insects for hours while lying on our stomachs in the front yard. We discovered the wonders of the woods, the mysteries of mushrooms, and the delight of a simple salad on a summer evening. At age 30 I entered college for the first time, reveling in the rituals of 18-year-olds. At age 35, I learned to swim, to play hopscotch, to hike, and to laugh at myself. By age 40, I learned the difficult lesson that playfulness is more important for balance in life than all-out work, and configured my world accordingly. I now take regular recess breaks, and my boss approves.

Along the way, the love I was deprived of as a child found its way to me gradually, and I learned to open up, to love and be loved. I learned to give my heart, to let it be broken, to heal, and to give it again. But it took a long, long time to learn that basic baby step.

Marija—Age 44—Wells, ME


4 Comments

This is lovely
Michelle, your neighbor

Posted by Michelle on 26 October 2006 @ 7am

yes, lovely.
there is a very charming book about a man who grows young: The Confessions of Max Tivoli.

Posted by mariann on 19 December 2006 @ 6pm

400 words? It reads like 4000, maybe more. I hope your life continues in this mode, and that you live to be 112!

Someone, probably lots of “ones”, lament that “Youth is wasted on the young”. By the time most of us are in a position to kick back and have fun, we’re too old, tired, and/or decrepit, and often have no one to enjoy it with. It seems you’ve turned the natural order on its head. Nicely done! :)

I envy you. Not because of your childhood - I wouldn’t wish that on anyone - but your present, and hopefully, future. You paid your penance upfront. Rather like a magazine renewal that offers the choices “Pay Now” or “Bill Me Later”.

I wish the best to you and yours.

Beth
clipmgr@tds.net

Posted by beth mack on 6 February 2007 @ 2am

That was fantastic.

Posted by Meg on 7 February 2007 @ 7am

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