I Owe A Debt To Dracula

The first book I ever stole was a library copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

In 1951 I became a Boy Scout and other boys in my troop introduced me to the thrill of horror movies. Having seen Bela Lugosi in the movie, I naturally had to read the book.

The story and its format captivated me. I found it not horrifying, but charming.

And Stoker’s choice of format changed my life.

A series of journal entries, diaries and letters give the book its structure.

As a 12-year-old boy I had never before heard of a journal or diary. Discovering that some people led lives so interesting that they recorded what happened to them every day intrigued me.

The fact that Jonathan Harker kept a record of what he did each day and that tracking his days led to the destruction of the monster … Wow! What 12-year-old boy could resist? I had to begin writing a daily journal so that when I encountered some great adventure, or met a vampire, I’d know how to cope.

I began to record my life’s days in a school notebook. … Alas, what a bore.

So I quit journaling.

Too much work.

But the idea stayed with me. I remained convinced that life is worth recording.

Then, as a young man I encountered the Journal of David Brainerd (1718-1747), a missionary to the American Indians, and I was deeply touched by this man’s life. Then I read excerpts from the extensive diaries of Samuel Pepys (1603-1733); the massive journals of John Wesley (1703-1791) ; the utterly charming diary of 8-year-old Marjorie Fleming (1803-1811) … and a host of other journal writers, people who wrote for themselves trying to make sense of their own lives.

I collected a whole bookcase full of other people’s journals.

The real life daily struggles, problems, observations, concerns, and triumphs of ordinary people fascinate me. I look for meaning in their lives and my own.

Off and on over the years I have started and stopped my own journal a number of times. Some of my earlier attempts were lost through divorce, house fire, moving, etc. But a back closet still contains my own daily record of my life and thoughts for the past 25 years…

And then last year, in conversation, my youngest son used a word I’d never before heard – Blog.

Thus I began this on-line series of daily postings – which are not very much different from my journal entries except that I’m MUCH more inhibited in these, and all too aware that other people may read over my shoulder practically as I write.

Two odd incidents related to my journaling:

Once a few years ago the phone rang and an attorney I’d never heard of before asked me to appear as an expert witness at a trial concerning a dispute over an old diary. He’d read a book review I’d written for a local newspaper and I’d mentioned diaries in the review. I certainly never think of myself as an expert on diaries but the judge paid attention to my testimony.

Another time years back, a young lady where I worked asked me if I had kept track of the day an unusual incident had happened on the job. Puzzled by her request, I checked back six or seven weeks and found that I had recorded the incident.

I was able to tell her the exact day it happened – but I asked why she needed to know.

Blushing, she told me that she wanted to know because that was the night she’d gotten pregnant!

Wasn’t me!

Maybe Dracula slipped into her bedroom that night.

Actually, she now had -- thanks to my journal – a specific date and time for a long talk with her boyfriend.

Anyhow, if anyone is interested in some of my old journal excerpts, I’ve posted a sampling in the right-hand column of my website under the heading “Today In Former Years”. That section takes a random date and tracks that date back over a number of years.

When I read back over the events of my own life, I see certain patterns in the mercy of God to me; I see recurring problems and failures; I see jokes I’d forgotten; I see the growth of the love Ginny and I share; and I see our (now grown) children flourish and thrive.

I’m pleased.

Mr. Dracula, I owe you a great debt.

----

After watching the Rose Parade and football all day yesterday, Ginny & I drove to Jennifer and Pat’s new home for dinner with them, Donald and Helen, Eve and Patricia.

We lounged in pool and hot tub and around the fireplace listening to heavy rain on the roof.

We talked about each person’s hopes, and especially career plans, for the next year. We also kicked around ideas about a family charitable endeavor we’re considering.

In a mini family conference, we discussed ways to market and increase sales of my books. About the only thing we actually decided was not to post more blatant ads on either my website or blog.

I hope that my writing gives readers hope and nudges them closer to Christ, so I (and, to a lesser degree, the family) feel that advertising might muddy the water.

So many people think that religious folk are just in it for the money. Thus, to avoid that putting that stumbling block in the way of readers, we again decided not to clutter the sites with any more promotional material.

Therefore, Jennifer urged me to write a book about coping with poverty.

Now, that’s a field I am indeed an expert in.

Anyhow, we all had a great time and laughed our heads off over juvenal jokes and ancient family stories – the kids told about a pissing/vomiting contest among themselves that Ginny and I never knew about until last night.

This teaches me that no matter how carefully I record my life – I don’t have the slightest idea of what’s been going on around me in my own home.

No, I’ve never seen a vampire scale an ancient stone wall clutching a bag-full of squirming babies to feed his voluptuous companions; my journal has never recorded such an incident… but should I ever see such a thing, my pen is ready.

And you'll get to read about it right here.