My daughters gave me a storytelling program as a gift for my recent birthday. It’s set up so that once a week I receive a writing prompt from questions they have created for me to answer. At the end of 52 weeks, a book will be compiled from these stories written over the course of the next year.
Photos are an optional addition should I choose to include those with each prompt.
From mundane (What television shows did you watch as a child?) to the reflective (In what ways were your parents strict or relaxed?), the prompts are meant to give my children the answers they want to know about the life I have lived since 1956.
Last week, I began the book.
The writing flowed, and I enjoyed going through old photos to match the story: my first road trip in 1958, pieced together obviously from photos and things my parents told me about the 3,400-mile roundtrip to Washington state that summer when I was 2 years old. --------------------------------- We are all main characters in this life we share with others, family and friends and complete strangers.
How much we choose to divulge is always wise.
But these are questions my daughters’ generated, so that tells me they want to know about my first road trip, about the best advice my mom (their grandmother) gave me, about the first major news story I remember, about my first kiss (I made that one up but gonna write about it just to make them cringe).
Likely this project will cause me to regret not asking my parents more questions.
--What was it like to grow up without a television or running water? Without a father?
--When you changed schools ten times in 12 years, how did that affect you?
--How did Memaw get just the right temperature in a wood burning stove for baking biscuits?
--Was there a time when a teacher made you feel special?
--What was the first movie you ever saw in a theater?
--What scared you when you were little?
Talking about the past with our children is important, too. That way we can answer questions that may come up in the moment. Some people make voice recordings or videos, more good options for preserving family history.
I will pen these reflections with authenticity and honesty but will also keep in mind the adage that some things just need to go to our graves with us. It’s best I not write about the time I borrowed my sister Sara’s favorite pair of dress shoes without asking or that I came back early from lunch in third grade and let that cute boy copy the answers from my Dick, Jane, and Sally Think-And-Do book.
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