Memoirs at The Little House

(Note: Click on photos to enlarge)
Our memoir writing group has been writing together for about 6 years. The core group remains intact, but a few others have cycled in and out for various reasons. We have written about all aspects of our lives and, just when we think we have said it all, we come up with more. We put our stories on paper for our children, grandchildren, and beyond. How I would love to ave had a journal of my grandfather's family traveling to Texas in a covered wagon. How I wish I had kept a journal of the early years of my marriage when we lived and traveled all over the world. Nevertheless, I can put my memories on paper, so all is not lost.

Several years ago while doing genealogical research on a family line, I came across a copy of some typed pages stapled together and placed in one of those clear plastic report covers so beloved by teachers. There was no fanfare, it was just sitting on a shelf amongst real books in the reference section. I could hardly believe my eyes! Those papers contained stories about my great-great grandfather and his family! What a treasure. One of his children, later in life, had written the stories while "laid up" with a broken leg. What a blessing that others had seen the value in her efforts and shared them. Since this occurred in a small town, the librarian readily allowed us to remove the "Reference Only" copy and take it to the local print shop to have it copied. I hope someone will be just as excited someday, to find a copy of my stories.

I have digressed....
Our group of seven journeyed to La Grange for a long anticipated retreat. We wanted some time away from the world to concentrate on writing. We stayed in a member's weekend home, which was an event in itself.

Called simply, "The Little House," it was built about 1910 and moved to its present site from lower on the hill. Shortly after it was moved, a tree, felled by a vicious storm, fell on the house's previous site. It is a typical farm house from the era and is filled with bits and pieces reminiscent of bygone times.

The inside railings were recovered from an outside porch and thus preserved. The lofted sleeping area provided dorm-style comfort where we curled up at night under pieced quilts. We ate heartily and, for the most part, healthily with food we brought from home so little time was lost in the everyday tasks of life.

We went "out on the town" one evening. Traveling all the way to Winchester, Texas to Murphy's Steak House. Murphy's is a popular country, no-frills, restaurant housed in an old store with "1913 C.H. Schmidt" in pronounced letters over the entry.

Of course it is popular since it is the only real restaurant anywhere around this wide-spread farming community, but it was also good....and inexpensive! Memoir writing can be intensive so we broke the time up into sessions. Memoir writing is also fun and therapeutic as we share the joys and tragedies. We topped our time off with a quick trip to a local quilt show.

Strangely, as we laughed and shared, traveling to and from our retreat, the miles just melted away. Good friends, good times, good work.

Writing Retreat

I am off to a memoir writing retreat this morning.
Our group of 5-8 women has been writing together for about 5 years now. Surprisingly few have dropped out and those were for serious reasons. We lead very busy lives, so not everyone meets every time, but our meetings have a certain priority. I think it is because we not only produce some amazing stories, we also have a whole lot of fun and have developed the high level of trust necessary for true participation. In our 2-3 hours of writing, we share an intensity born of a common desire to put our life stories on paper and honed by a baring of emotions. We shed tears, laugh (a LOT), remember the past (with love and horror), and experience a whole range of emotions which meld to produce a cathartic afternoon. Now we are trying, for the first time, an entire two days.
Of course, such intensity has to be broken up so we have some fun things in mind. Writing our stories will remain the focus, but we will probably lubricate our memories with a glass or two of wine, long walks, and introspection in a pastoral setting.
I have packed a pen, paper, and chicken salad to share for lunch, along with all my regular overnight gear.
Until I return, the blog is on autopilot.....

The Second Remarkable Event

I had planned to attend my other writing group session today, but life got in the way (see previous post). The facilitator, JW, and her DH encouraged me to stop by anyway. I did, and was treated to a most remarkable experience.

My friend KH has been my mentor for teaching memoir writing, an enjoyable task we have shared for the last five years. I subbed in one of her classes this past fall and shared a story I had written about my great grandmother as an example of a technique. JW's husband was in that class.

Although he says he doesn't know note "A" from "Z," her DH is a musician and writer. I was completely surprised when he began singing a song he had written based on the events in my story. "Mother Crocheting Memories" took some poetic license, but maintained the gist of the story. It was a rather surreal experience to hear my words included in a song. What he didn't know, was that my mother has spent most of her life creating with crochet. Sorry I can't share the song right now. It is possible he will publish it and I don't want to invade that territory. I'll let you know if / when it becomes available.

I just wonder what sort of influences we have on others that we never learn about.

"Alzheimer's: Forgetting Piece by Piece"

As a military family, we were always on the move, but we always made time to visit my Dad’s parents. On one visit, when I was talking to my Grandmother, she became very serious and asked me to please hurry and study medicine so I could find out what was happening in her head. When I tried to pursue the subject, she refused any further conversation about it. She obviously had some inkling there was a problem.

My Granddaddy invited us all for dinner one evening and Grandmother cooked. There was plenty for two, if you were not very hungry, but barely enough for 11 of us to have a taste-testing. I think that is when my dad knew there was a real problem. He took us aside, asked us to be patient, and promised to take us out for hamburgers after dinner, but seven hungry, young children didn’t understand what was happening. I am not sure anyone understood what was happening. If the military thought you needed a family or parents, they would have issued them. The Air Force moved us to California.

When Daddy retired and we were getting ready to move back to Texas from California, it was decided my sister would go early and stay with my grandparents to help out until the rest of the family arrived. I was to accompany her since I would be starting college classes about that time. Plane travel was not common then, so we took the bus and Granddaddy picked us up at the station. Grandmother greeted us when we arrived at the house, but she became increasingly upset when she saw the luggage. She did not recall the arrangements everyone had agreed to and demanded that my sister leave. I was confused, my sister and Grandfather were devastated. My sister had always been Grandmother’s favorite and we could not reconcile the anger. Fortunately, a cousin took my sister in until the rest of the family arrived.

Grandmother would leave to drive to the grocery store and disappear for hours. She didn’t recall where she had been. The police stopped her a couple of times for driving on the wrong side of the road. Granddaddy had to take her car keys away from her. She became paranoid and didn’t recognize us much of the time. Normally sweet, quiet, and retiring, Grandmother became more belligerent. The doctor diagnosed her problems as “hardening of the arteries” and told us to put her in a nursing home. It was believed arteries got clogged and cut off oxygen to the brain. We didn’t know about Alzheimer’s at that time.

You don’t die from Alzheimer’s. It just erodes your mind and taxes your loved ones. It is diagnosed by the exclusion of other possibilities. Susan Gourley (Fort Wayne, IN) has made a quilt for the nationwide quilt exhibit called "Alzheimer's: Forgetting Piece by Piece." It is one of 52 quilts in a traveling exhibit to interpret Alzheimer's in some way. The quilts’ journey began in August 2006 and will continue until July 2009 with all proceeds benefiting Alzheimer's research.

Susan’s quilt includes some poignant questions any mother would ask if
faced with the loss of the most precious memories of motherhood:
To my dear child,
What if I can not remember the soft touch of your hand?

What happens when I do not know your smile?

What if I do not know my face as I see it in the mirror?
What about when there are no memories for the day as the sun says its final goodbye?
What if I can not remember that I loved the warm smell of the top of your head?
What if I will never remember I held you in my arms as you slept?
What if I never again have the chance to remember who I was and who you were to me?
What if I can not remember that I loved you?

I wonder if my Grandmother was troubled by questions like these. I wonder if I will ask these questions one day.

Writing

I have written some wonderful things!

Unfortunately, those "writings" never made it to paper. The things I write in my mind seem to be so much better than the ones I put on paper, but the ones on paper last longer. So thank goodness for writing groups.

The regular group I write with fits like a comfortable old shoe. We have been together a long time and shared so much of our lives that we seem to have few secrets left. We all scurry to plan our schedules around our writing meetings and our facilitator struggles to find subjects we have not previously covered. Still, we look forward to these therapeutic meetings and always find more stories to write. Our focus is producing stories for our families and future generations.

I met with a new group yesterday and found a different perspective. "New" is difficult. It is a breaking-in period where we dance around our introductions to one another, define our goals, and become familiar with different writing styles. It is an interesting, well-traveled group with members who write extremely well. Several are published authors and, although not their main focus, have an interest in publishing in the future.

I am inspired and encouraged by both groups. I share the interests of both groups. It has been a week full of writing and I am replete. Today I will fulfill my need to work with my hands so I will go to a Linus Quilt workday. Do you know about Linus Quilts? I will explain later.......

Writing

I spent most of the day yesterday writing. It was so much fun!

I started by teaching, actually it is more like facilitating, the 4th class in Beginning Memoir writing. Only two more to go this term. Every "student" in the class has such interesting stories to share and everyone listens attentively. We write about our experiences growing up and marvel at the changes we have seen.

The afternoon was spent with another group of writers, women who have been writing together for four years or better. One would think we would have said all we had to say, but there is still more. Again, we write of our life's experiences and spark each other's memories to produce more. We laugh, talk, share, write, then go out to our various homes to face our days with renewed energy.It is rather like lifting a layer of dust and allowing the shine to come through.

I hope you are writing your stories/ memoirs / journal for future generations. I guess a blog could be considered a form of memoir writing, so you have a good beginning if you are blogging. Remember, you are living in "the good 'ole days" and your children and grandchildren will want to know about these days.

Happy writing!

Reach for a Star

"A Shiny Christmas Star: An Old West Christmas Trilogy " is the title of my friend, Steven Douglas Glover's, first published book. The flavor of the old West, a hint of romance, and a touch of O. Henry, combine for interesting reading that just makes you want to curl up in front of the fire and read. This delightful little book makes a great stocking stuffer, a hostess gift, or send it instead of a get-well card. But first, sit down and read it yourself, you'll be happy you did. It is available from Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.com.

Read the Publisher's review of the three stories in this book:

"A Shiny Christmas Star" - U.S. Marshal Cole Stockton and his best friend Laura Sumner both have fitful dreams about blankets of snow and starving "little" people. When they lead a quest to find the origin of the nightmare, four people come together in this heartwarming story about the true meaning of Christmas.

"Star of Peace" - Cole has a dilemma: he can't find a suitable Christmas gift for Laura. In the meantime, a traveling medicine show advertises "the fastest and most accurate gunman in the world" - and Cole is glad to show him up. Laura has a hard time keeping track of her baked holiday goodies, and Cole discovers the peace of Christmas.

"The Greatest Gift" - Just days before Christmas, Cole is en route to Laura's ranch. Laura has visions of frozen wastelands and senses that Cole is in extreme danger. When Cole is attacked by a large cougar, both man and beast fall into an icy river, hurtling toward the falls. Cole is hurt, lost, and alone in the frozen wilds of Colorado with seemingly no means of survival...

Author Steven Douglas Glover delivers three classic stories about the faith, peace, and love that are Christmas.

Memoir Writing

Today was my first class in Memoir Writing for the fall semester of Senior University 2007. I have been teaching now for about 4 years along with a neighbor. We teach a beginning class and a continuing class each semester, switching duties each term. We have covered Techniques, Military, Good Ole Days, and others, but I have the beginning class this semester. I LOVE the beginners! There is such enthusiasm and they are always surprised they can accomplish so much in such a short time.

Memoir writing as a literary genre, forms a subclass of autobiography. It is a process of taking one small portion / memory / bite out of time, and writing in-depth about it. The result is a slice of life examined like a frozen moment in time. The video watch that Dick Tracy wore in early comic strips is close to present day reality. We gathered around the radio to listen to well-loved programs much as families gather around the TV now. We saw the advent of TV dinners, McDonald's, transatlantic jet travel, Interstate Highways, space shuttles, and a man walking on the moon. Even if we did not experience the Great Depression ourselves, our parents and grandparents did and it has had an effect on our lives. We have a responsibility to record our history, share our spiritual values, and let our loved ones know what we stand for and how we feel we have made a difference in this world.

I will be sprinkling some memoir writing in my blog. I hope you are writing too.