The Easter Bunny Discovered

For better or worse, holidays are gold mines of memory material deserving a place in your life story. They are uniquely personal, with no two years quite the same, and universal, with  family, community and national traditions. Some people look forward to them, others dread them. Still others ignore them.

Easter is a good example. When I was young, it meant a new dress for church, dying and hiding eggs, and eating lots of candy. Since we didn’t live within easy reach of any relatives, we seldom spent it with extended family. It was primarily a Sunday morning event marked by sermons filled with impassioned reminders of suffering and transcendence.

Best of all, even now, it signals the time when the world is waking from winter’s slumber. Weather is warming, spring flowers blooming, and trees becoming green. It’s a season of hope, joy and rebirth, whatever one’s spiritual tradition.

Any of these aspects makes good story content. One of the first stories I wrote after discovering the joys of lifestory writing is The Easter Bunny Discovered. That Easter was a watershed moment in my young life, and the story offered a chance to add deft background strokes about my life in general at that point.

I’ll admit that I did not recognize the full import of that story when I wrote it. At that point I simply thought of it as a fun memory. Soon after writing it, I discovered the free member sites available on ThirdAge.com and posted eight of my favorite stories there. ThirdAge long since discontinued that service, but the stories live on in a new home on my own site. You can read my Easter Bunny story and others there. I hope they’ll inspire you to story your own holiday memories and significant discoveries for posterity, then share them with others.

Write now: write a holiday story of your own. Write a series of holiday stories, perhaps one for each holiday you observe.

Valentine Memory Whispers

When I think of Valentine’s Day, I always think of red heart boxes full of chocolate candy. When I was young, my father always gave a great big box of candy to my mother, and smaller boxes, with half a dozen pieces each to my sister and me. I always ate all of mine right then and there, and nibbled from Mother’s until it was gone too.

But I have many more Valentine’s Day memories. For example, I remember decorating shoeboxes each year for classmates to fill with valentines. That was a tense situation. Back then there was no mandate that you had to bring one for each person in the class, and somehow everyone seemed to know how many who got, and who gave which to whom. I always groaned inwardly when I counted and found a shortfall. It didn’t matter that only one person ever got a card from everyone in our class. I wanted to be in that category too, and I wasn’t!

Did I remember on those Valentine’s Days that there were always one or two people I simply could not bring myself to address cards to? Why would I have thought I’d get one from everyone when I didn’t give one to everyone?

Embedding questions and reflections like that adds juice to a story or memoir, and they aren’t always easy to answer. It takes a bit off practice to even recognize those whispery thoughts that arise as we write – they are easy to ignore, but worth heeding. They add a “mystery ingredient” to stories. When you capture one of these thoughts, take a break from writing  for a bit of memory analysis.

My example

I close my eyes, lean back, and picture myself sitting at our gray limed-oak dining room table, staring out the window at the sky. The table surface is just below armpit level, so my arms stretch straight out. A dittoed list of classmates is on my left. A pile of valentines from the bag I bought for a dollar at Draggon Drug is spread out before me.

These are so dumb. Nobody talks like that, I think as I flip through them. That’s actually part of their effectiveness. Nobody really talks this way, so nobody will take them seriously. I know it’s just a game we play to be nice and fit in, and oh, how I want to fit in! It’s not easy, but I work my way down the list, picking a card for each, signing my name, and addressing the flimsy envelopes. I draw a line through each name as I finish. I’m pleased with my progress.

Then I come to a name that stops me cold. Wilber Winslow (name changed to protect the guilty) is such a creep! I’ll throw up if I have to give him a card, even if I could find one that says “Roses are red, violets are blue, reform school’s the place, for people like you.”

I know he won’t give me a card, so why humiliate myself by giving him one when I know I won’t get one in return? I’m in proactive self-defense mode.  A girl has to have some self-respect.

Yes, there’s my answer. I knew I wouldn’t get cards from everyone, and I’ve gotten in touch with my inner Mean Girl and the angst and frustration of fourth grade.

That’s a more interesting story and perhaps more helpful to my grandchildren, one of whom just worked through a similar situation, but with a difference. In this enlightened era, in her school, they are required to give a valentine to each member of the class – even the bratty boy who teases her mercilessly behind the teacher’s back. But that’s her story to write when she grows up.

Write now: think of a tense situation in your past and try re-entering the scene. Think it through. What do you see? What do you hear? What are you thinking? What story are you telling yourself? Write about it. 

Photo credit: Dan4th Nicholas

Write Like Nobody Will Read

Dance like nobody’s watching,
Write like nobody will read.

These words darted into my monkey mind as I gazed at Christmas lights, thinking back to high school days when folk dancing was a favorite activity. A motley mixture of adults and teenagers gathered each week at the Rec Hall for a medley of line and couples’ dances from many nations. College kids home for Christmas made holiday dances especially festive.

There were never any lessons – you just picked the dances up as you went, with occasional pointers from old-timers. Any athletic ability in our family went to my sister and brother. I was one of those kids always picked last for whatever team was forming in P.E., so, although I loved the music and the dancing, I was never a picture of grace. On some level I knew this, but put it out of  mind. I was having fun. At least until the night Kelly gave me some startling advice.

“Quit trying to make like a ballerina,” she said with a sneer. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look?”

Ouch! Where’s the nearest hole? I fled to the ladies’ room to do battle with my Inner Critic.

Kelly was a couple of years older than I and home on break from college. She had studied ballet practically all her life, and she was good enough to turn pro. Undoubtedly watching my awkward attempts was painful for her, and tact had never been her strong suit. Perhaps she meant well, but her words stung. Fortunately she disappeared back to school, and I soon got over the humiliation and enjoyed dancing as much as ever, perhaps more.

I didn’t discount her message. After thinking it through, I did begin to relax into the music more, and seemed to move a bit more fluidly. If I was still a little awkward, so what? It didn’t seem to bother anyone but Kelly. We were there for the joy of dancing, not to put on a performance, and in general we were an accepting group.

Today as I recalled that horrific moment, I made the obvious connection to writing. There was a time when my writing was almost as awkward as my dancing. I have drafts of two short stories I wrote in 1978. They are utterly dreadful! I keep them as benchmarks for measuring progress. When I went to college I fell away from folk dancing, so I’ve had little opportunity to refine those skills. But I have continued writing for over thirty years now, and with lots of feedback, study and practice, I’ve made progress.

Today I often dance at home alone. I dance because I love to dance. I dance like nobody is watching, which is easy, because they aren’t. I write the same way. I write thousands of words nobody will ever see for every hundred I share. Maybe if I took up folk dancing again, I’d do better at it for all the private practice.

My advice for you: Forget the Kelly’s in life. Dance like nobody’s watching and write like nobody will read. If a Kelly wanders in, look for what you can learn and forget the rest.

Write now: about a Kelly experience in your life. How did you react? Did you shut down or keep slogging away? What did you learn then? What can you learn now for revisiting the event?

Image credit: Brendan Lally

The Perfect Christmas Tree

A story of Christmas Past

I stare with disappointment at the tree in our 1958 living room that we decorated two days ago. It looks utterly pitiful — like it’s made from Tinkertoys. The flat-needled branches are sparse, and it has no fragrance. I face the ugly truth: I do not like this tree. I fight growing disappointment with the whole season, wishing it would just be over.

Just then Mother comes home from work, wrestling a huge spruce through the door. It’s almost as wide as it is tall. “Nobody else at school wanted this, so I brought it home,” she explains. Its fragrance instantly fills the house. In meer minutes my sister and I strip the puny tree and the lush new one stands in its place. Santa’s crew of elves couldn’t decorate a tree better or faster than we do. When we finish, we catch our breath in awe. The tree glows with more than colored lights. It glows with Christmas Spirit. With joyful hearts, she and I load the record player and sing our hearts out.

The next day Daddy saws up the old tree and stuffs it in the fireplace. I’m torn at the seeming brutality of burning this poor tree because it wasn’t beautiful enough. I feel more than a little guilty at rejecting it for the sake of appearances. Then I look at the new one and relax —we didn’t deliberately go looking for it. It was a gift, a gift of abundance in this season of blessing. It was a gift of Christmas Spirit, something lacking in the first tree. This is the perfect Christmas tree, and I know it will never be matched in all my years.

“Thank you for yielding your place so gracefully,” I whisper into the flames, grateful that at least the meager tree can give us the gift of warmth to help us enjoy its replacement.

All these years later, I look at our dense, perfectly shaped artificial tree with vague disappointment, then realize it’s the best tree it can be. Not even a fresh tree could live up to the legendary Perfect Christmas Tree. “Thank you for giving us joy each year and being so dependable and easy to live with. And especially, thank you for not dropping needles all over the floor!”

This simple memoir story has become part of my Christmas Tradition, to be handed down through generations. Each year it seems to take on new meaning and become richer. Others read the story and find their own meaning. I’m glad of that, but primarily I wrote the story for myself. It’s a reminder of the day I realized something important as I sat in front of that fireplace. That day was a rite of passage. Each time I read the story, I learn the lessons of gratitude, compassion and purpose more deeply and fully, and the spirit of that lush, amazing replacement tree will always fill my heart.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone.

Write now: Take a few minutes and write about some meaningful Christmas memory – or some other holiday memory if your tradition celebrates another time. Keep this story and reflect on it each year. Edit as your understanding grows. Over the years it will become rich and deep, full of meaning and inspiration, primarily for you, but also for others.

Springing Back

Wild mood swings mark the adolescent phase of a year. We call this phase spring. On Monday balmy sunshine calls for short sleeves and sandals, and Tuesday it may snow. Even so, watching tenuous green shoots emerge from ground and branches keeps hope alive, reminding us that seeds will soon turn into early produce, we’ll romp in shorts, and the season of “easy living” is just around the corner.

Although I generally spurn ritual observances, I do have rituals for greeting spring. I wrote about one of my annual rites, a walk down the road to look for the first coltsfoot blossoms, in a post on Story Circle’s One Woman’s Day blog last Sunday. You can click over there to read about the surprise I found this year.

Other rituals include slipping into my favorite sandals and freshening up white pants. I’ll snip a few sprigs of budding forsythia, and daffodils will soon follow. As soon as the temperature is above 70˚ on the sun porch, I’ll be out with the vacuum and dust rag, preparing to enjoy the view of our surrounding woods and wildlife for another season. The first day of spring also heralds the advent of my April birthday. Turning the calendar page seems more real once spring arrives.

My thoughts flow to memories of apricot blossoms and fragrant lilacs, tulips and the first trip down into the canyon in those spring years of my life. In high school, no matter what the weather, on cool days after April 1 I’d switch from my winter coat to my gold wool Topper sweater. After Easter, whether early or late, it was time for white shoes, skirts and slacks, worn only between Easter and Labor Day. Cotton skirts replaced wool ones. These fashion dictates were mandatory, at least for me. Though I don’t recall observing others through the eyes of the Fashion Police, I was in compliance.

I always celebrated spring with a trip to the fabric department at Clement & Benner in Los Alamos or Dendahl’s in Santa Fe. Carefully hoarded babysitting money went toward flowery percale, gingham checks, or solid sailcloth. Sewing was a constant part of my life, with fabric choice marking advancing seasons.

My sophomore year in high school, specifically my sixteenth birthday, is my archetype of spring. That year my paternal grandmother sent me a wondrous present: a generous length of buttery yellow calico, sprigged with tiny spring-green blossoms. That fabric lit my day as gloriously as the streaming sunshine. The freedom to choose my own design seemed as much a part of the present as the fabric itself. My birthday was on Saturday that year, and we always opened presents at breakfast. By Monday that fabric had become a full-skirted dress with a simple scoop-necked top. Elbow-length sleeves were cut in one piece with the bodice, the waist set off by a sewn-in green cummerbund sash. I felt like a May Queen in that dress and wore it for several years.

Moving back even earlier, I recall spring as a time for new balls, jump ropes and jacks, snitching chalk for hopscotch grids, and softball at school (I prefer to block memories of being the last one chosen for teams). Add in baby chicks, Easter, and helping plant the new garden to complete the picture.

No other season, not even New Year’s, has quite the same intensity of optimism and eagerness. Today most of the rituals, like new balls, hopscotch, and sewing, are observed only as memories. But I still treasure the sense of internal sap rising with that in the trees, and writing my way back through the years gives me a satisfying sense of continuity and progression.

Write now: jot down an essay recording your memories of spring. Does any particular one stand out in your mind? How has your observance of spring changed through the years? Do you have any seasonal rituals such as spring cleaning or switching out your wardrobe? What does this season mean to you? How has that changed?

Playing with the Process

Yesterday was my dad's 90th birthday. One day last week the following conversation took place between my husband and me:

“Rats! I forgot to shop for a card for my father!”

“Why don't you make him something like Gil made my mother?” Gil is a friend of my mother-in-law's who lives in her retirement community. For her recent 98th birthday, he snagged some historical highlights of her birth year from the web, added a few sappy sentiments at the end, and wowed everyone. It was sweet, but … if I were going to do something like that, it would be a bit more, well, elegant. And definitely not sappy.

“I don't want to. It would take forever. … But … let me look at Gil's thing again.” He dug it out.

Hmm, I thought. How long could it take to pull a few facts off the web. A little bit more formatting, maybe a couple of graphics. Surely I could think of a suitable conclusion.

I cranked up Google to explore 1920. Most events pertained to war, the aftermath of war, or what would later be recognized as preludes to war. But did you know that's the year it became illegal to mail babies via the USPS? Prohibition began that year – for alcohol in this country and contraceptives in France.

I started playing with layout. A little graphic maybe? Yeck! Boring hardly began to describe it.

Let me see what I can do with PowerPoint, I thought. A few slides, a few graphics. How long could that take?

I knew. I truly knew. But I realized I'd been bitten by this bug and  the only way out was through.

Let's just say I didn't sleep much that night, and most planned tasks sat undone the next day. By the middle of the day after that, I had created a PowerPoint slideshow with animated loads and transitions for text and graphics. I'd snagged audio of a 19w0 top hit parade song. The final slide was an animated version of the image you see above, accompanied by a version of  Happy Birthday, sung way better than our family could ever do. I'd converted the file to a Flash video with the free iSpring plug-in. All was done.

“Good grief, if I'd realized how much time you'd sink into this project, I never would have suggested it!”

“I knew. It's always that way. That's why I didn't want to do it, but I'm glad I did. It was fun.”

It was fun. And it's typical of most projects I do, even more intentional ones. A project may seem too big, too vast. But I've learned through time that if I just nibble on a corner, I'll find my way.

I cranked out a handout recently for the next series of my Writing for the Health of It class. I had no idea how to do it. So I began writing a few basic ideas. Those led to more. Soon I had a sense of direction. In a surprisingly short period of time, it all flowed together. A formatting tweak here, another there. Print it out for an edit.

The key is to get lost in the process. Let it lead the way. If I try to force it to go the way I want, I always get discouraged. If I let the energy of the project lead the way, the path is a lot smoother.

These are some of the principles I've always known and used on some level, as far back as high school when I worked on the props committee for drama club plays. I was delighted to find that Mark David Gerson summarizes them most eloquently on the front page of his website, starting with Rule #1:

Rule #1: There are no rules: How can there be when creativity is all about breaking new ground and breaking old rules?

Thanks Mark David. This list is wind beneath our wings and a great reason to ask Santa to put a copy of your book in our stockings — paired with a copy of mine!

Write now: think of a story you want to write and play with it. Using Mark David's list as guidance, let it tell you how it wants to be written.  

P.S. I know you'll wonder. I can't show you the finished product, because I created it for strictly personal purposes and posting it publicly would violate copyright all over the place.

Write a Birthday Story

My Grandmother Clara was known far and wide for her fabulous white cakes. During a visit one summer while I was in my mid-teens, she showed me her secrets. One of them was to sift the flour not once, but seven times. She always used Pillsbury’s Best flour — though she may have switched to Swans Down Cake Flour in her later years. She always slathered Seven Minute Frosting on it, and my very favorite was when she covered the frosting with coconut.

Although I know she baked this cake practically every time we visited, most have slid into a composite memory of Grandmother Clara’s White Cake. But one in particular stands out in memory. The year I was five, she baked her cake for my birthday, fixing it my favorite way, with coconut on the frosting. She wrapped it carefully in waxed paper (plastic wrap was decades away), set it in a box, and filled the empty space in the box with popcorn. Then she took it down to the Greyhound station in Clovis, New Mexico and put it on  a bus to Albuquerque. My mother met the bus in Albuquerque and brought the cake home. Nothing ever tasted so wonderful.

Other memorable birthday cakes include one my mom made for me with a Story Book doll stuck in the center of an angel food cake. She frosted the cake with whipped cream, smoothing it up to form a bodice for the doll, thus turning the cake into the doll’s huge big skirt. Another year she surprised me with an ice cream cake from Baskin-Robbins. I’d never heard of such and thing, and was it ever yummy!

Maybe because I grew up eating “real” cake, mixes and bake shop cake have never appealed to me. Their texture is off, and they taste like chemicals. To me, the act of making a  “real” birthday cake is a gift in itself, an act of love. I’ve always made cakes from scratch for family members and special friends. Preferences have shifted to chocolate, with a chocolate-chip mint ice cream-filled chocolate log cake at the top of the request list.

Cakes are only one aspect of birthdays. When I remember birthdays, I also remember gifts, though these memories are few. Unlike most of my friends then and now, our family never has been big on gifts and parties for birthdays. Then there are special events that have coincided with birthdays, and various joys and sorrows that accompanied the turning of the calendar.

Birthdays are a splendid time for personal rituals. I usually take a few minutes on mine to update my timeline. Many other people begin a new journal on their birthday, write a special entry in an on-going journal, or treat themselves to something special

All of this is rich fodder for stories as a feature element or elaboration in a larger story. Think back over your birthdays, and look for memories that belong on your story idea list.

Write now: a story about a significant birthday you recall. What made it special? Tell about all the trimmings, whatever they were: cake, gifts, party, (or the lack of any or all of these.) Who did you celebrate with? What did you do?

Grow Your Attitude of Gratitude

A few days ago my daughter told me about accepting a “Thankfulness Challenge.” She’s posting tiny “I’m thankful for ...” statements on Facebook at least once a day. After she told me this, I took a look. The instructions are simple:

Every day this month until Thanksgiving, think of one thing that you are thankful for and post it as your status. "Today I am thankful for..." The longer you do it, the harder it gets! Now if you think you can do it then repost this message ......as your status to invite others to take...the challenge, then post what YOU are thankful for today....

Then I checked her posts. They are tiny indeed. Typical ones include:

• Today I am thankful for deodorant.
• Today I am thankful for sarcasm.
• Today I am thankful that others have louder voices than mine.
• Today I am thankful for ear plugs ... helpful when the children are fighting over toys.
• Today, I am thankful that my husband did not die on mile 24 of his marathon -- no matter how much he thought he was going to.

I am taking the challenge too, though I’m doing it via Twitter and somewhat behind.

Rather interestingly, as Susan told me about the challenge, she remarked that one of her friends thought she’d have trouble finding enough things to be thankful for. Part of Susan’s purpose is to demonstrate to that friend and the world that thankfulness/gratitude can become a frame of reference for viewing the world, and we can be thankful for tiny little things. We can be thankful several times a day. Several times an hour. Almost constantly in fact.

Recording gratitude is not a new idea. Information about Gratitude Journals abounds. Sleepydust.net explains: “A gratitude journal is like a diary - but you're only allowed to write positive things in it. ...“

The Happy Guy interviewed expert Doreene Clement for advice on how to keep a Gratitude Journal and posted her detailed instructions here.

Reviewing a Gratitude Journal, or even gratitude posts in a regular journal, can brighten dreery days and lift us out of the doldrums. Recording gratitude strengthens the habit of thinking that way. It can even improve your health! Sharing gratitude with others, especially in tiny, credibly little bites like Susan is doing, infects others with a grateful spirit. The more of us doing that, the sooner the whole world will be wrapped in Gratitude, and that has to be a powerful thing.

I’m grateful that my daughter is spreading gratitude, and I’m grateful to Google for making free blog space available to the world. And (drum roll) ... I'm thankful for those who read my blog!

Write now: in the spirit of the season, make a list of things you are grateful for. Aim for at least a dozen off the top of your head, and look beyond the obvious. Make it a habit to jot down grateful thoughts at least once a day, and share them with the world at least now and then.

Untangling a Memory Knot

Do you remember how you celebrated Memorial Day when you were a child? And what difference does it make to know? Traditionally, for me, Memorial Day marked the end of the school year. It was the official beginning of Summer Vacation, and worthy of celebration for that reason alone, especially since, rather amazingly, none of the many veterans in our family lost their lives while serving their country.

This question arose just just now as I wrote about my high school graduation in my journal. I graduated from high school on May 28, and the next day I went home with my grandparents to spend the several days between graduation and the first day of my summer job. My parents came to pick me up ... when? Memorial Day weekend? That didn’t seem possible. There isn’t time for Memorial Day weekend if I graduated on May 28.

My compulsive need for accurate details kicked in. I set my journal aside, reached for my nearby laptop, and googled over to a perpetual calendar to refresh my memory regarding the day of the week that May 28 fell on that year. Although perpetual calendars are enormously valuable for unraveling many mysteries, it didn’t help with this one. A few more clicks turned up the explanation that Memorial Day was always celebrated as a stand-alone holiday on May 30 until the passage of the Uniform Holiday Act in 1971 that created all the lovely three day weekend holidays we enjoy now.

Thus Memorial Day was not a long weekend back then as I’d been thinking. It was the First Day of Summer Vacation — unless it fell on a Sunday, in which case it was the Second Day of Summer Vacation.

What difference does all this make? It’s a prime example of how memories morph and blur. I forgot that we didn’t always have that three day weekend. It probably blurred together with Labor Day, which marked the official end of summer vacation — it was carved in stone that we return to the classroom the Tuesday after Labor Day, which has always has always been celebrated on the first Monday of September, ensuring a three day weekend.

If I had written in the Los Alamos Years memoir I’m tapping away on that my parents came up to pick me up over Memorial Day weekend, nobody would ever have thought twice about it, and it would have been true enough. That claim expresses personal truth, supported by the reality of memory. If anyone checked a few decades from now, at worst they’d figure I’d gotten a little wifty and let it go.

Since tools for determining factual truth are easily available, with about four minutes of searching, I was able to set the record straight. I can keep my account accurate, and perhaps insert a little historical insight by including half a dozen words about the history of the holiday date change.

Although this is a personal decision, when accurate facts are readily available, I feel better when I make the effort to find and use them. When the facts are not available, memory and considered speculation will suffice, though if I have serious doubts, I may qualify such statements with a phrase like as I recall... .

Write now: click over to a perpetual calendar and use it to determine the day of the week for significant events in your life. For example, do you remember what day of the week you were born? How about your children? What day of the week was JFK assassinated? Conversely, if you remember the time of month something took place, for example, the third week of August, you can probably find the date using the perpetual calendar. You can file these dates away for future reference, or just know that this tool is always there.

Alternatively or additionally, write about your feelings about technical accuracy in matters like this. How important is it to you?

Happy Valentine's Day to YOU!

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Blog readers are sweet,
They keep my words new.

On this Valentine’s Day I send a special greeting to each and every reader, and a huge message of gratitude for all your inspiring and thought-provoking comments.

I’ve often said that I write primarily for myself, because I love to write, and in a sense that’s true. My thoughts take shape as I write. I discover new ideas, new perspectives, and the world takes on fresh shapes and colors as it filters through my fingers.

But, the longer I write, and especially the longer I write for this blog, the more reward I discover in interaction with readers. Dear Blog Readers, life would not be the same without you. I cherish you. I treasure you. So I send you this Valentine, made especially with my very own pixels, just for you. It is torn from the silken fabric of my heart, to speak directly to yours.

Thank you for making my life richer by being here. And please, keep those comments coming. They are unbelievably precious.

Write now: should you feel so inspired, besides writing a few love stories to and about the people dear to you, perhaps you’ll find a few moments later today or tomorrow to write about love in general and what it means to you. Write about how your concept of love has developed through the years. Write about how love has become richer and more meaningful. Write about love of God, love of country, love of family and fellow man. And above all, write about love of self and love of writing!

Turkey Day

Turkey Day is nearly here. The radio is my head playing “Over the River and Through the Woods,” that old Thanksgiving classic I learned in second or third grade. I love that song, even though I never have seen that much snow as early as Thanksgiving. The other traditional Thanksgiving tune that stick in mind is the hymn, “Come Ye Thankful People, Come,” which I just discovered was written in 1844, the same year as “Over the River.”

Thinking back over my personal Thanksgiving history, I find a lot of variation. Childhood Thanksgivings in New Mexico varied. Some years we visited my mother’s family in Las Cruces, where most of my cousins lived. Those years enough food for a small army filled my aunt’s kitchen table, and tables for eating were set up in the living room for adults and an enclosed porch for the kids. Other years we went to visit my father’s parents in Clovis where things were a little quieter. Or we stayed home in Los Alamos, enjoying the meal with various combinations of friends and/or visiting relatives.

When Mother fixed the dinner, we always had turkey stuffed with my mother’s cornbread dressing. She left the seasoning of that dressing to my father, which baffled me at the time. Aside from making pancakes on weekends, seasoning the stuffing was his only contribution to cooking. We always had mashed potatoes with giblet gravy, candied sweet potatoes with toasty marshmallow topping, green beans (plain ones, not the soupy casserole version), 24-hour salad and fresh cranberry-orange relish. Dessert always included both pumpkin and mince pies, with lots of whipped cream.

During the years our children were growing up, Thanksgiving was always at our house, with my parents and brother joining us. In later years my brother's growing family was added. The menu remained stable, though the dressing was never quite the same without my father’s deft touch to season it. The last twenty-some years, the feast has changed. The distance between most family members has multiplied by a factor of ten. We alternate between staying home, often including assorted friends whose families are also far away, or going to visit my mother-in-law, who lives just east of Philadelphia.

Although this is not a tradition in our family, many families center the food preparation and meal around television with the Macy’s parade in the morning and football later in the day.

Isn’t it ironic how most of us primarily connect this holiday with turkey, travel, and television, followed by Black Friday shopping sprees? The holiday was instituted to remind us to be thankful for the many blessings we enjoy in this land of plenty. Even this year as the economy is melting like ice cream on hot pie, there is plenty to be thankful for, and I hope you’ll join me in recording some of those many blessings in stories. Encourage family members to share stories as you gather. Keep a recorder running, and/or make notes. In future years, your family will have a collection of stories to add to their Gratitude lists on Thanksgiving.

Among the many things I’m thankful for is the technology that allows me to create this blog, and for all my many readers. I wish each and every one of you the very best Thanksgiving ever, and another year of blessings.

Write now: a list of things you are thankful for, and then go on to write about your memories of Thanksgivings, past and present. Gather a collection of your family’s traditional recipes. Do you always stick to the same ones or vary the menu? What other traditions do you have? Do you recall unusual events or circumstances? How were people arranged for eating — all around one table, or a separate one for children? Keep those fingers moving and get it all down!

National Day of Listening: an Adventure in Multimedia

Have you ever wished you could watch movies of your ancestors and how they lived, or at least hear their voices? Although it's too late to capture your ancestors on video StoryCorp is doing something about that for future generations. They recognize the value of hearing voices from the past and are dedicated to preserving them. They are an independent nonprofit project whose mission is “to honor and celebrate one another’s lives through listening.” Jerry Waxler wrote an inspiring blog post on Memory Writers Network about his heartwarming experience with StoryCorp.

Realizing that a very small percentage of the world’s population will ever be able to visit a StoryCorp studio, they have begun urging people to use their own equipment to record interviews with family members and others they care about. This Thanksgiving, “StoryCorps asks you to start a new holiday tradition—set aside one hour on Friday, November 28th, to record a conversation with someone important to you. You can interview anyone you choose: an older relative, a friend, a teacher, or a familiar face from the neighborhood.” You can learn more about this and find detailed guidelines to help by visiting their National Day of Listening website.

This StoryCorp request and nudge toward multi-media lifestory and family history projects seems timely. I still advocate print and written stories as the basic medium, because it is the most durable and accessible, but sound recordings, video, digital scrapbooks and photo albums definitely add impact to your stories by involving more channels of sensory input, and younger generations are becoming increasingly used to multi-media, even if they are avid readers.

If all you have available is a tape recorder or an older video camera that records on tape, don’t hesitate to use it. Just keep in mind that both audio and video tapes tend to deteriorate over time, and it’s becoming difficult to purchase players for them, so as soon as possible, get any tapes you have, new or old, transferred to digital format and burned to CD or DVD disks for storage. You can convert audio tapes yourself with a tape player that has a port for connecting to an external speaker, an audio cable (available for a few dollars at any electronics department), and the free open source Audacity sound capture program. If you ask around, you probably know someone with a combination VCR/DVD recorder to use for playing the tape and simultaneously recording it to a DVD disk, or you can purchase such a device for as little as $59 online (check reviews!).

If and when if your budget allows, prices for digital recorders and camcorders are plummeting. If you already have an iPod or other mp3 player, it may have a voice recorder function that will do the trick. My Creative Zen V Plus mp3 player that I spent $79 for a year ago isn’t quite studio quality, but it’s as good as most tape recorders and quite adequate for the purpose. Cnet.com offers excellent product reviews along with buying guides such as this one for mp3 players to help you choose.

Most digital cameras today have a video mode. It may produce a rather small image, but it’s better than nothing, and you won’t be able to turn the clock back later when you get a better one. Even if the video is less than the best, you'll have the audio. Start with an empty card, the largest you have, and set the camera on a tripod or prop it on a solid surface while you do your interview.

A scanner is the only equipment you need to take old photos and pop them into PowerPoint (or the free OpenOffice equivalent, Impress). Add captions, and get as creative as you want with special effects. You can even record a voice track and add music if you feel adventurous and dig around in Help to figure out how.

Think out of the box and use the toys you already have to create something wonderful. Your imagination will be stretched, you’ll form lots of new neural connections to keep your brain healthy as you learn new tricks to use the software involved, and your family will love the results.

Write now: inventory your gear and use the guidelines on the National Day of Listening site to make plans for recording an audio and/or video interview on the National Day of Listening this year. Find half a dozen old photos, scan them into the computer if you haven’t already done so, and make a simple PowerPoint slide show.

I Remember the Fourth of July!

Happy Fourth of July! I’ve been thinking about the evolution of this day over the course of my many years:

I remember fireworks!

I remember sparklers.

I remember skyrockets, the little kind we shot off at home.

I remember those spinner things.

I remember hearing fire crackers going off long past the hour I was sent to bed.

I remember driving up to an overlook on a road high above Los Alamos to watch fireworks thirty miles away in Santa Fe.

I remember my first bottle of beer when I was ten and how nasty it tasted so I only had a couple of sips and let my daddy finish the rest.

I remember parades.

I remember hoping my baby would be born that day and waiting another week.

I remember neighbors pooling their resources to have a halfway respectable show of sparks in our cul-de-sac.

I remember fighting slipping through crowds on Mt. Washington to watch the Zambelli spectacular high over Pittsburgh’s Point.

I remember hearing about the Colonists fighting the British so they could pursue liberty and freedom, without all those taxes.

I remember when the sales tax was 2¢ per dollar.

I remember when I could stand at the airline gate and wait for passengers to arrive.

I remember when you could lead a Brownie troop or coach Little League without being fingerprinted.

What does Independence mean today?

Fireworks and shopping.

Freedom Fair and street food.

Happy Fourth of July all!

Write now: about your memories of Independence Day celebrations and how your views on freedom and independence have changed over the years — or not.

Keeping Travel Memories Fresh

Travel, especially foreign travel, is a great way to broaden your horizons and enrich your life. I’ve been especially fortunate to have the opportunity over the last twenty years to visit every continent except Australia, and have all sorts of great stories to tell of my experiences.

One of the best way’s I’ve found to keep these memories from fading is to write about them, but when I am constantly barraged by one spectacular sight after another, ongoing connections with fascinating people, and an endless stream of unfamiliar surroundings, it all blurs together, even before I get home.

I’ve often begun a trip with a fresh notebook in hand, intending to journal events on a daily basis. Once I managed to do this for five whole days. I can use precious time to immerse myself in the adventure, sleep, or journal. The bottom priority never gets done!

Our recent trip to China went much better in this respect, because I used multiple streams of input to record experiences rather than relying on a single mode:

Daily event sheets — Unlike previous trips which we’ve mostly done on our own, we made arrangements to go to China with Vantage Tours, and happily give them five stars for performance. One of the many reasons for this rating was the daily event sheets our guide provided. Each one detailed times and destinations, with brief notes about what we’d be seeing and doing. What a valuable memory jogger!

Mini-notebook — As an after-thought, I stuck a tiny spiral-bound notebook in my bag. It fit in my small hip pouch. Our guides often used bus time en route to daily destinations for short lectures on local customs, history, and such things. It was so easy to whip out my little notebook and capture the content.

Voice recorder — I stripped most of the music content and took along a Zen Plus V mp3 player for making quick voice notes about amazing things I saw, impressions, smells, sounds, and other things that wouldn’t come through in a photo. The Zen conveniently hangs around my neck, so it was easy to keep track of. It’s not a good choice for audio you want to share, and it’s not as easy to use as a dedicated recorder, but it’s better than nothing. Many cell phones, cameras, and other mp3 players also include this function.

Photos — Between the two of us, we have nearly 10,000 photos. Many of mine were quick shots made for memory joggers, not sharing. It’s easy to get carried away with digital, especially if you carry along a laptop! We made lots of separate folders for downloads, to keep track of the location for each batch, and I synchronized the clocks on our cameras so we can pool resources and sort by time. A few of these photos will find their way onto a website and into a slideshow for sharing at libraries and similar locations.

E-mail — I don’t recommend spending lots of vacation time writing e-mail, but I kept a document for recording thoughts that I could quickly paste into e-mails later, and added to it while photos downloaded.

Standard journal — I even wrote a few pages in the larger spiral I took as an official trip journal.

What will I do with this wealth of information? I may take time to compile a complete document with the story of our trip, or I may not get around to it. That doesn’t matter. Recording the details helps cement trip memories in my mind, and will serve as reference material if questions come up later. I took the notes primarily for myself, and if others benefit, so much the better.

Write now: about a fantastic vacation you took. It may be recent or far in the past. It may involve overseas travel, or a trip to the park across town. Include descriptions of the scenery, impressions of the people you saw, the place you stayed, any smells you remember (food, flower fragrances, etc.), weather, comforts, discomforts, memorable events, travel challenges, and anything else you remember. Include photos if you have them.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas

What a memory rich season this is, perhaps because it’s so full of ritual and repetitive tasks. As I wrapped a few gifts this afternoon, I used some ancient ribbon that I swear could have come from my great-grandmother’s attic. She died when I was four. The ribbon has shiny satin threads — on one side. The other side is dull paper. It works well for puffed bows that are ever so much more elegant than the commercial ones that you simply peel and stick. As I fluffed half a dozen bows, I remembered sitting on my parents’ bed wrapping presents fifty years ago, and learning to make elegant bows. The packages had to be perfectly wrapped, with crisply folded creases, and neatly balanced ends, taped just so.

This year my hubby received his Christmas gift early — a record turntable that plugs directly into the line-in port on a computer. This is the first time in a dozen years that we’ve been able to listen to our old LP albums. We converted half a dozen decades-old Christmas albums to MP3 files. Even with a few hisses and pops, those old songs sound more like Christmas than the newer CD’s we’ve purchased.

We no longer set up a large tree, opting instead for a collection of permanently decorated table-top trees. But those wee trees pack just as much spirit as their full-size cousins, and pondering the glow of the mini-lights reminds me of The Perfect Christmas Tree.

Over the years, Christmas customs at our house have changed dramatically from intense observance to nearly ignoring it, to something more balanced, but the memories of early Christmases remain, and traditions stand firm. They are the touchstone. This is the time of year that brings people together. Whether in the mall, around the eggnog bowl, or in worship services, we meet, we greet, and we all wish for Peace On Earth. Ultimately, that's the Reason For the Season.

I wish you a Merry Christmas, and hope that you’ll find a few minutes in the post-Christmas lull to sit in the glow of the tree with pen and paper and capture some of your Christmas memories and stories. That’s a great lead-in to a strong story start for the New Year that’s only hours away.

Write now: some notes of Christmas memories that you can transform into stories in a few days. What do you remember about Santa Claus? How did you learn to wrap gifts? What was the most exciting gift you ever got? Ever gave? What was your menu for Christmas dinner? Did you enjoy the day? Why or why not? How has Christmas changed for you?

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal

The Season Is Upon Us

Sometime in the next couple of days I’ll have to venture out of my lair and into the commercial sphere. I know things will be changed. The Halloween decorations will be gone, replaced with red and green Christmas decor. It’s that time again!

This brings a couple of lifestory-related thoughts to mind. One is to urge you to write about holidays past. The focus right now is on Thanksgiving and Christmas.

You don’t have to write whole stories if you don’t have time, but as you think of them, jot some notes. Remember those index cards I keep harping on? Keep a few with you for this purpose. You might include a title line (which may change when the actual story is written, or not be used at all if you incorporate the memory in another story), and perhaps a few words or sentences to jump start the flow when you get back to it. Story idea lists are another option.

The other thought relates to gifts. A book of your stories would make a stunning holiday gift. If you haven’t started yet, it may be ambitious to envision one hundred polished pages printed by Lulu before December 25. If you already have a pile of stories, you may be able to weave something together by then, following the guidelines in Chapter 11 of The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing.

Grandchildren may be among the most appreciative recipients, especially if the stories are about your happy memories that include them. They love to see lots of pictures, with themselves prominently featured.

If you need help inserting pictures in your stories, turn to page 264 in The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing and follow the instructions. I do suggest you be generous in the sizing, especially if you are working with standard 8½ x 11 inch paper. It’s difficult to see details in tiny pictures, and they tend to look lost on the larger page. My experience with The Albuquerque Years proved beyond a doubt that it’s far better to avoid the temptation to resize the picture in Word or OpenOffice and use a photo editing program to resize it to the precise size you want in your document. None of the pictures I edited in the final document printed well, and I had to redo them, “the right way.”

There’s more to the gift angle than just your own stories. Nearly all of us have relatives who are so full of stories, everyone keeps urging them to “write those stories down.” They keep looking away and muttering. Wrap a copy of The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing for them and place it under the tree. I know of several instances where this has worked to get the ink flowing. A typical comment:

Thanks for sending the copy of The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing. It was just what I needed to get a sense of how to get started and go about it. My wife and kids are thrilled that I finally got off the dime and urging me to stick with it. Thanks to you and Sharon for the nudge.

You better believe my little heart went pitty-pat when I read that unsolicited testimonal in an e-mail. Few things are as rewarding as confirmation that your writing hits the target.

Write now: about holiday memories through the years. Did you have an especially memorable Christmas? Get the gift of your dreams? Do any holidays stand out as flaming disasters? Write stories, jot ideas on index cards, or expand your story idea list. You needn't be limited to memory stories. Write about your reaction to the ever-advancing onset of Christmas. Remember when stores weren't decorated until after Thanksgiving? What about the super-sizing of gifts? Expound on your pet peeves and joys.

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal

Ghosts of Halloween Past

It seems like only yesterday I was trekking around the neighborhood with a paper bag. All the kids on our street in Albuquerque went around together. I can barely recognize myself in the photo above. I think I see my little sister there, but I have to guess at the others. I think three of these kids moved away soon after this.

How simple things were back then. A mask and maybe some odd pieces of clothing was costume enough, which is good, because that’s all my family could afford at the time while my father was going to the University of New Mexico on the GI Bill. But it wasn’t just a matter of economy. Costumes fifty some years ago were generally simpler and more imaginative.

So were the goodies. I remember orange and white candy corn, and orange “circus peanuts.” Maybe a few jaw breakers or sticks of chewing gum. In later years there were a few mini-Hershey bars, and some people gave out iced sugar cookies or cupcakes. Some spoil sport always handed out the “untreat” — an apple.

Until the year I was in sixth grade, I generally went out trick-or-treating with the other kids from the neighborhood. That year I decided I was too old to go. But ... as the doorbell rang nonstop, nostalgia grew strong. It was not enough to simply hand out goodies to others. I wanted to be out in that crisp night air, bag in hand, one more time! So, I created the perfect excuse. I quickly cut out and crayoned a mask for myself from a brown paper bag, and stuffed my 18-month-old brother into his red snow suit, turning him into Santa Claus with the addition of a taped-on wad of cotton for a beard. He was clueless, but hung onto the paper bag I gave him. I took him around to ten or fifteen houses, and introduced him to the fine art of snagging candy.

At Halloween I always remember a story my mother used to tell, with a large smile on her face, about how she and her friends went around tipping over outhouses. Today I realize how suspect that story was. I’ll bet she was in a group that did one outhouse, one time. It is true that she lived in tents near the road construction sites her father oversaw for months a time, but that was when she was very young, and during the summer. There were precious few outhouses to be found in town by the 1930s when she was the right age for such shenanigans. Still, the story is lots of fun to envision. I never did anything more horrible than smearing Ivory soap on a few windows.

Halloween has changed so much from then to now. Power Rangers and princesses have displaced simple masks and hobo getups. Infants are stuffed into strawberry suits. Yard and home decorations are nearly as elaborate as Christmas. Or so it is other places. Not at my house! I've become the Halloween Grinch, but that's okay, because for years no children have bothered to invest the time and effort to hike half a block up the street and climb our steep, hundred-foot- long driveway for a small candy bar.

Write now: about some of your favorite Halloween memories. Did you have elaborate costumes, or make-shift ones? Did you have parties at school? At home? What were your favorite treats? Do you have more recent stories about trick-or-treating with your children, or any unusual door-answering tales?

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal

Happy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine’s Day! Even after all these years, when I think of Valentine’s Day, two childhood memories come to mind, one happy and one less so.

First the happy memory: My father always bought three boxes of candy for Valentine’s Day. The big red heart full of chocolates was for Mother. My sister and I got our own heart-shaped boxes, but they were considerably smaller than Mother’s, and had only a dozen pieces or so. I was a skinny kid, and ate a lot of candy in an effort to remedy that situation, so the contents of mine quickly disappeared. Fortunately Mother was more restrained, and willing to share — but only one piece a day.

The less happy memory shifts to school. In grade school we generally took shoe boxes to class and personalized them with seasonal decorations and our names a few days before February 14. As classmates brought in assorted valentines, generally selected from inexpensive collections purchased at Dragon Drug, they were dropped into the various boxes. Only a select few, all girls, received valentines from everyone. The rest of us cringed, hoping not to be terribly embarrassed at having too few. I was not one of the few who received a full box. I was never humiliated by this experience, but neither was it uplifting. The candy hearts, cupcakes or cookies and punch provided by the Room Mother’s volunteers for the class party saved the day.

Like most holidays recently, Valentine’s Day is being subjected to commercialism, with CNN reporting that average spending on this year will be around $120 per person, most of that spent on a significant other. What about you? Will you spend that much? How will you spend whatever you dig out of your pocket? How does this compare with Valentines past? What memories and stories do you have of Valentine’s Day? Did you take sappy cards to class? Does a dance, dinner or date stand out? How about writing some valentine memories down for posterity?

Perhaps rather than writing for a general audience, you’d enjoy writing a valentine story for that special person, sharing endearing memories.

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal

Writing Resolutions

Happy New Year, one and all. It’s hard to believe this century is settling in so fast. I recently realized that when I hear the term “last century,” I now think of the 1900s rather than the 1800s. That means the collective memory I’ve acquired from my family (things I know of great-grandparents and their adventures), together with my personal memories, spans three centuries. That gives me a lot to write about!

Speaking of writing, I hope that sometime today or tomorrow, you’ll have a few quiet moments to join me, at least in spirit, with a pad of paper, your favorite pen, and maybe a cuppa whatever to jot down some writing resolutions for 2007.

I managed to squeak under the wire on one of my 2006 resolutions: the manuscript for The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing is ready to go to the printer on Tuesday for galley proofs. Talk about cutting it close! That’s the power of a resolution, backed up by a deadline of commitments. No formal release date has been set for the final copies, but I’ll keep you posted.

One of my resolutions for 2007 is to fully participate in the Story Circle Network. I’ve been receiving the monthly Story Circle e-mail newsletter for quite awhile and finally decided to join. I had no idea this would be such a thriving and active on-line writing community! I’m putting a link to the website on the blog here, so anyone can refer back.

Perhaps some of you out there would like to join me at the Story Circle sponsored LifeWriting Retreat at Round Rock, Texas, March 16-18. It’s led by Susan Albert, author of the acclaimed China Bayles mystery series among other things. I love mysteries, and China is one of my favorite characters, so I'm dying to hear Susan's writing secrets!

I’m including a resolution about getting stories and articles published this year — pursuit of publication is something I’ve let slide, and I want to get back to it.

You’ll surely resolve to do a certain amount of writing this coming year, perhaps by schedule, perhaps by numbers of completed stories. Now I’m encouraging you to “think off the paper” to find writing groups, workshops, books of writing tips, and anything else you can think of to lend sparkle and zest to your writing. Stick your list somewhere you’ll see it often so it will keep you on track. I think you’ll be delighted with the results.

Don’t forget, writing should always come first. None of the rest matters if you aren’t writing! Keep those fingers flying.

Here’s to stacks and piles of scintillating tales accumulated over the next 365 days.

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal

Christmases Long, Long Ago

As I sat wrapping gifts this afternoon, I thought back through several decades to Christmases Long, Long Ago. When I was growing up we nearly always wrapped gifts on Mother’s bed. Don’t ask me why we used that unstable location — probably because their bedroom also served as the family room, with Mother’s sewing center and Daddy’s desk located in there.

Today I pulled out some ancient ribbon I’ve had stashed away for decades. Readers over fifty may remember the kind that had glossy fibers bonded to a duller base. In the olden days we formed our own bows from loops of this ribbon. We cut notches in the center, tied a thin ribbon tightly inside the loops, then pulled them out, alternating sides and twisting to create a full, puffy bow. These were far more elegant than the preformed plastic decorations in common use today.

I took pains with the wrapping, turning edges under to make crisp, straight seams, and folding the ends with origami precision. The finished packages are so lovely, it seems a shame that they’ll soon be ripped open.

Then I remembered the thrill of crouching beneath the tree, pondering each new gift that appeared, wondering what treasures it might hold. Unfortunately most were generally a disappointment when the day arrived. Wondering was the best part.

Thinking of the tree, I remembered various trees through the years, and the ritual of decorating them. First the lights were strung, then the various ornaments carefully placed. That involved lots of discussion to ensure that the colors and shapes were nicely distributed and balanced around the tree. Finally, we fastidiously placed silver icicles on each and every branch tip. It was a point of honor in our family to place no more than three strands at a time, spacing them carefully to give a uniform shimmering coat to the tree. “Some people just toss them on by the handful!” Mother disdainfully reminded us to reinforce the proper attitude in her young assistants.

Stockings, various candles, table adornments and wreaths followed the tree decorating. We even put up green fishnet draped along the staircase wall, decorated with shiny Christmas balls. Turning the front window into “stained glass” with poster paint powder mixed with soap flakes or something like that was great fun!

Today as I wrapped, this time on my kitchen table, the fragrance of Date Nut Loaf wafted from the oven, turning my thoughts to Christmas foods. We didn’t do cookies, we did candy.

Suddenly I thought of stories. I might have dropped everything to come to the computer and write, but I didn’t have to. I’ve already written these stories. How about you? Have you documented Christmas Long Ago for your family? If you don’t have time in the next few days, perhaps you can use the lovely glowing days after Christmas to do some writing.

Some of you may not celebrate Christmas, but you can’t help being impacted by it. How about some stories for your family about Hanukah or your holiday of tradition, and stories about your experiences as a non-participant in the major holiday of the year.

Have a blessed Christmas. I’m taking a break for a few days, but I'll be back soon.

Write on,

Sharon Lippincott, aka Ritergal