New Book! Scott Cunningham The Path Taken – Honoring the Life and Legacy of a Wiccan Trailblazer arrives in bookstores September, 2023. Pre-order your copy now!
Here is a bit from the Preface of this book. Enjoy!
If I had known my older brother Scott would be so beloved, so polarizing, so prolific, and would die so young, I, in my youth, would have taken notes. Kept all our correspondence. Taken more photos. Or perhaps had a cassette deck tape recorder going whenever we talked.
But I didn’t. So here we are.
Memories are, at best, crystal-clear images frozen in time. Sound, scent, sight, taste, touch, all right there, so vivid. At their worst, memories are foggy, amorphous, intangible things that no one can verify. A pity that all I have is my memories. . . but both my parents are gone, so it’s up to me now. Throughout this book I have added snippets of conversations. Most of them took place in one form or another. They are not word-by-word conversations. What they are is what memory has given me, whether through family repetition (stories told again and again), or what might have been said in a private setting that rings true.
The longer I work on this labor of love, the more snippets come to me. Bits of conversation. Colors. The heat of the day, or the cool of an air-conditioned hotel room, the scent of a city. I’m trusting these snippets and sharing them with you.
I am not an historian. I don’t have dates of his major life events written down. I don’t have salacious details of his deeply personal life (and even if I did, I wouldn’t share them). I have not memorized every one of Scott’s books. Hell, I didn’t even read most of them until after he died.
That’s a confession, by the way.
What I am is the younger sister who alternately adored him and ignored him; and he did the same with me.
This is where I need to tell you that, in reading those books he wrote, I saw a side of him I never saw in person, heard a voice I had never heard from him before. It both pleases me and saddens me. Pleases, because now all I need to do is pick up his books and he is there with me. Saddens, because I never got to see that part of him in real life.
So it goes.
It has struck me now that once I let this book out into the world, my memories won’t be my own anymore. They will be seen by you. Known by you. Filtered through your experience. My words, yes, but your internal translation.
A part of me is hesitant, now that I near the end of this journey.
I have to laugh. . . when I wrote that, I swear I heard Scott sigh and tell me to get on with it, already. So here I go. . . getting on with it.
From my heart to yours.
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