On a Saturday morning a few years ago, I responded to a hankering. I needed to free a hall closet in my house of clutter. I understood what faced me – the messiest offender found in three files buckets – as soon as I opened the door. I spied a particular grey one packed askew with folders and paper and [...]
“Why do we write memoir?” This question is posed on many writing blogs, writer websites and to writing discussion groups. I am curious to know my fellow writers’ (of personal stories) responses. I read on. They write “. . . . to wring every possible lesson . . . to learn about my own past . . . I wrote [...]
In remembrance of that night beginning November 9, 1938, the Night of Broken Glass. Sometimes, I like to see my world as being either black or white, segregated into neat piles. My tidy thinking and tendency to categorize allow me to understand, to make sense of things. But segregation is unrealistic because of the gray. There is the gray of [...]
Unlike seasons in Chicago, San Francisco’s went unrecognized. The change of seasons was subtle for me with only the calendar months marking their transitions. January in San Francisco can be a beautiful weather month for someone from Chicago. It’s chilly but nothing a few layers of clothing or a jacket can’t remedy. Locals would say, “Oh, the rains this time [...]
THE BIRCH TREES I’ll always remember the birches for as long as I live. It’s the silver bark of the birch, the lenticels, and the height they grow to whilst remaining slim . . . but they always remind me of home. James Roy Blair "My tree attraction wasn’t for just any tree. I noticed this one’s ashen white [...]
As a writer of memoir, sometimes my mind hurts when recalling not only a particular memory, but also the details within that scene. The hurt part comes when noises within the silence of my thought-invoking process are heard. Sometimes the noise is distracting and not very helpful. Other times it allows me the opportunity to exercise my imagination and create [...]
A writing prompt from one of my writing groups was to write about a summer day. We were to write a scene, from 2 different POV's - a child and adult, from a childhood memory. I pulled a scene from my memoir (in progress) where I was having my picture taken on my first day of kindergarten. When I completed [...]
Taken from a 2000 word essay, this short is the beginning to the unfolding of my spirituality. I heard the call. It wasn’t a whisper or a delicate voice or loud words urging me to transcribe thoughts to paper. The call did sound like an alarm, telling me it was time to awaken a dormant spirit. I was ready to [...]
On the weekends, sitting in the den was not required before dinner like weekdays. Before dinner during the week, Timmy and I were required to remain seated until Dad got home from work, went to the bathroom to wash up, replacing a lingering work smell with the odor of a very dry vodka martini and a lit Tareyton cigarette. Timmy [...]
Timmy and I never felt neglected when it came to the availability of food. Mom believed preparing three meals a day to be one of her many housewife duties. Watching Julia Child on television was as regular a practice as going to Mass on Saturday nights. “This is not how it turned out for Julia,” she’d say hunched over the [...]