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Douglas Pickard
My name is Douglas Pickard. I was born and raised in Gloucester Township, New Jersey. I was born February 28, 1993. Growing up, I never saw myself as a popular guy. Sure, I played ...voir plusMy name is Douglas Pickard. I was born and raised in Gloucester Township, New Jersey. I was born February 28, 1993. Growing up, I never saw myself as a popular guy. Sure, I played in sports clubs, I had pretty good grades and a good amount of friends, but I was still pretty shy around people. I didn’t like to talk because I always had issues speaking and pronouncing words, so I kept to myself most of the time.
I have been asked on many occasions, “Hey, I love your accent. Where are you from?”
I always get a weird reaction when I tell people New Jersey. Mostly, they just asked where I was born and where did I come from, like I was born in Europe or something. But no, I’m from New Jersey and proud of it.
I began writing by accident, if you can believe that. I was asked to write an original poem for my Advanced Placement English class during my sophomore year of high school, and I wasn’t too happy about it. So I told myself that I would just write about something I thought was cool and interesting. And of course, I ended up writing this ten-page poem about ninjas. Don’t ask why; it just sort of happened. I gave it to my teacher, and she freaked out—not in bad way, don’t worry. Turns out she loved it, and she showed the entire class by putting it on her classroom wall for a few weeks. Of course, I blushed every time someone came to tell me how much they liked it. Then we ended up doing poetry assignments for the next couple of weeks until we started writing short stories. My teacher, let’s call her Mrs. R, always wanted to see my work because she liked them so much. She said I had a gift; I never thought about it too much because I never expected to be good at anything. Still, it felt pretty great having a teacher do all that because she believed in her student. For that, Mrs. R, I thank you.
I continued to write short stories and little poems in a notebook over the years just for fun or when I was bored—which is actually when I first came up with the idea for this story. Sometimes I would just write lyrics when I was angry or upset, which I almost was all the time when I was a junior and senior in high school. My mother became really sick when I was a junior, and her condition continued to get worse when I graduated. She had a brain tumor that couldn’t be removed with surgery. I only say that because this was her second tumor, and she survived because she had it removed. But with this one, we were basically just in a losing race with time. In August of 2013, we lost her. I was so angry I shut down. I stopped writing and was just a miserable mess. Months went by, and I tried to get myself out of the slump I was in. Lucky for me, I was a part of a very strong family that helped me through everything.
She used to love reading my poems, my lyrics, and my stories. She was my number 1 fan. I’m no professional writer by any standards, but she genuinely loved my material. I made a promise to myself that I would give writing a shot for her. There was this one saying that she always told me; she says she came up with it herself. I have my doubts. She says, “When you come up to an apple tree, never just pick one up from the ground. That’s too easy. You have to climb to the top and get an apple from there. The harder you work for it, the more satisfying the taste. Take the climb and reach for it.”
So here I am. I’m taking the climb and reaching for the top. If you enjoy reading this story, then that makes me happy. I don’t know if people will like my stories. If they do, that’s great; if not, then I can’t say I didn’t try. I guess that’s what my mother always meant by that apple at the top of the tree. Even though it may seem hard at first, it’s a lot more satisfying when you make it to the top.voir moins