Edmund Kirby-Smith's life is in ruins. He thinks the way back from
his rage and despair is to find Richard Vickerman, a man who used to
have answers. Set in the northwest, Driving to Vernonia is a penetrating
story of deprivation, laced with love and anger, violence and
self-discovery.
Mentor Lost, Mentor Found
The Motivation for a Novel
DRIVING TO VERNONIA became the germ of an idea when I rediscovered a
man of great importance in my life after a twenty-five-year lapse. I
first met Richard VanOsdol in 1955, when I was fifteen and we were both
working for Bergs Supermarkets in Salem, Oregon. Dick Van, as he was
nicknamed, was produce manager for the store where we both worked: I
boxed groceries at the check stand, stocked shelves, and, among other
duties, packaged eggs.
When sorting eggs, my companion in that back room was a tall, gangly
young man who sorted and processed fruit and vegetables. He was ten
years older than I was, had attended Willamette University in Salem, and
would regale me with his insights on philosophy, the Civil War, and
other heady topics. There, among eggs and eggplant, we had great
discussions and became great friends.
Then I graduated from high school, attended college in Eugene,
Oregon, and Dick and I lost touch. However, when I married and returned
to Salem looking for work, Dick, who had since become store manager of
one of the Bergs stores, hired me on as a grocery clerk, and we were
reunited for the first time.
It was during the next three years of working for Dick that he became
a mentor and role model to me. Being a mentor is not something anyone
plans: mostly the person isn't even aware of his or her role in someone
else's life. And I'm sure it was like that for Dick Van back in those
early days of the '60s. Dick's impact on my life was absorbed day by
day: no lightning bolts, but moments of strength, empathy, guidance,
humor, and above all-generosity of spirit and a giving of self.
I left the grocery business for good in 1965 and saw Dick only once
more before losing track of him for over twenty-five years. I never
thanked him for his impact on my life-an omission that haunted me for
years. I would try to find him every once in a while, but without
success. I didn't know where he was. Finally, I devoted the time and
energy to really do the job and found Dick Van back in Salem, right down
the road from Portland, where I lived. Our reunion was a high point for
both of us-and I finally got to thank him personally. We soon began
having monthly lunches, and afterward, we would sit in his car and have
long discussions about life: its challenges, its highs and lows. Most of
all we deepened our friendship.
Shortly after finding Richard again, I was intrigued by the odyssey
of searching for someone misplaced but not forgotten. And, soon, I began
drafting a novel in which finding someone long lost is vital to
salvaging a life gone awry. Thus emerged Edmund Kirby and eventually
DRIVING TO VERNONIA-all thanks to Richard "Dick Van" VanOsdol. I must
caution that this novel is not about Richard VanOsdol; it is a work of
fiction, but it was inspired by my lifelong friendship with him-though
many years lapsed.
Are there people in your life whom you have misplaced and perhaps
never got around to thanking for whatever it was they did to make your
life better? I encourage you to find them. If your mentor has since
passed on, thank his or her spouse or offspring.