Anna

Jerry Cooper was born into a world of wind, sand, crude oil, and cotton fields in Lamesa, Texas. His parents were the children of dirt-poor share-cropping cotton farmers. His teenage mother was one of six siblings and his father was one of eighteen. The obligations of marriage, work, and child-rearing took priority for decades. None of those things are regretted, but now it is time to sit down and write. Gracefully or poorly, eloquently or nonsensically, the words must come out - it really doesn’t matter one way or the other. The act of writing is a fundamental thing in and of itself. The expression of fantasies and dreams and experiences must finally emerge and be documented. The words will be written, whether or not they are ever read. The thoughts and emotions will be expressed, whether or not they are ever comprehended. It’s like love - writing is an act more valuable when given than when received. And so it goes...