Writing my memoir was like driving down Lake Shore Drive in Chicago. Upon my return from being away from the city for a few years, the order of exits was fuzzy in my memory, creating a challenge to my navigation. I had once depended on knowing each exit like a marker signaling when to turn or to keep going. My [...]
You will take over 200 million steps in your lifetime. Imagine if your feet could narrate a travelogue, report miles and destinations, when they are at rest, and injuries they may have sustained. What would they say? They dance and run, burrow in sand, hold you in mountain pose. Your feet connect you. Your feet track memories, record the spot [...]
I'm usually not a rule breaker. But, full disclosure: my memoir, Under the Birch Tree, reflects a rule, a memoir is not an autobiography, that I broke. Though Under the Birch Tree is now memoir, it maintains characteristics of autobiography. How I handled this telltale suggestion tipped the category from autobiography to memoir. The leap from a chronological autobiography to a memoir [...]
One August afternoon in 1967, Mom dressed me in a navy dress, patterned in tiny white polka dots, with an appliqué of paintbrushes and an artist’s palette in primary colors at the hem, and a white Peter Pan collar around my neck. White anklet socked feet, fitting snuggly into blood-red Mary Janes, anchored my chubby legs. While standing at attention [...]
In my forthcoming memoir, Under the Birch Tree, I explore the discovery of connections and their meanings in my life. Growing up on Carlisle Avenue, I deem a birch tree, not only my buddy, but also synonymous with home. I would carry this first connection, a catalyst for many others, through the decades. Home, by definition, takes on several meanings. [...]
I studied my plump grandma sitting in a black Naugahyde swivel chair in front of the television while watching The Price Is Right. Each day at 3:00 p.m. she ceremoniously grabbed an orange ball from the kitchen counter, held it in her hands like a treasure, and walked to her designated place in the family room. Clutching the small globe, [...]
You will take over 200 million steps in your lifetime. Imagine if your feet could narrate a travelogue, reporting miles and destinations, while they are at rest, and injuries they may have sustained. They dance and run, burrow in sand, hold you in mountain pose. Your feet have tracked memories, recording the spot beneath them together with the merging of [...]
“The Deerfield Commons, it used to be over there, that entire block, with Waukegan and Deerfield roads fencing it in,” I muttered with a heavy sigh looking west as I drove north on Waukegan Road. I say it when I drive into Deerfield, the town where I grew up as I relive the memories of years passed. “This was the [...]
I implore the power of detail in my memoir writing. However, writing the details can be a distraction and a digression from the purpose of my words. Natalie Goldberg’s, Writing Down the Bones says, “We must become writers who accept things as they are, come to love the details, and step forward with a yes on our lips . . [...]
The middle of the upstairs hall in the house on Carlisle Avenue was the kids’ bathroom where a bathtub paralleled one wall and a toilet filled the remaining small boxlike space. A beige Formica counter ran the length of the entire opposite wall with muddy blue double sinks planted in the long flat surface. And then there was the small [...]