graeme
memoirs for the children
Posted on: 09/20/2009 12:35
Recently, I have begun writing memoirs for my children. nothing fancy. Just notes written quickly, and so quite brief - maybe just a page an evening. It's proven quite fun as each evening brings back events I had long forgotten, and gives me ideas for the next one. And, simple as it is, I think the children will always enjoy having it. I might even begin incorporating old photos, get some use out of them - and photos will be far more interesting for the kids if they have a context for them.
My only regret is I realize I should have begun this forty years ago. It's an experience a good for me as I hope it will be for my children.
You might want to try it. I've included a sample of my first one to show how simple it can be.
It was the evening of August 26, 1933 that my mother felt the labour pains.She and my father lived in one of those blocks, very solid blocks, of flats that fill the northeast end of Montreal, each with its balcony for the two flats on the second floor, and with its staircase that curved down to the street. Downstairs had a balcony, too, but just for the one flat in the downstairs part. We were upstairs because it was half the size of downstairs, only two rooms, and just about the cheapest housing in the city.
Behind each building was a two-storey shed with a ramp to each rear balcony. Covered with rusting metal plates, the sheds were a survival of the old, rural barn, and were for the storage of the coal that was still the standard fuel for the only heat in each flat, a coal stove with an oven. Behind the houses ran the concrete lanes where garbage was piled, and two wheeled carts pulled by horses collected it, where junk buyers drove their wagons calling out rags for sale? (“Guinees a vente”) , and where I would play as a child.
It was the bleakest year of the depression, and Hitler was widely applauded for his leadership in reviving Germany from economic hardship. There was rather less leadership in Canada, so my father had to add to his regular job with days of shoveling snow for the city at a quarter or so a day. His boots were old and broken. So he lined them with old newspapers for a days’ work in the snow. Luckily, he was big, powerful man who had been a sports hero in high school – so he could stand up to the work.
In his regular job, he called himself a mechanic – which really meant, in the old sense, a labourer. He was employed by his father, building incinerators for Decarie Boiler and Incinerator Inc. But sales were slow in the 30s, and my father often had to accept a weekly pay envelope of three dollars or less. His father, though, always took home enough to own a car and to hire a household servant – though he lived just down rue des Belges from us in a flat with my grandmother and two of my uncles.
My father had no car, and the hospital was a good hour away by streetcar. And there were the labour pains…. So my father ran down the street to his father’s place to ask for a drive to the hospital. His father said no. There was no reason. Just no.
Now very scared with their first birth experience, my parents walked the three streets over to the streetcar stop at St. Denis and Jarry, then endured the slow and halting trip to the hospital. There, at three in the morning of August 27, I was born.
The hospital presented my father with a bill when it was over. He shrugged his shoulders. He barely had the coin for the street car ride home.
So my parents took me back as they had come on the long, rattling ride back to St. Denis and Jarry. Once home, they lay me in the old carriage, one woven of reeds, that would also be my crib until my sister was born, three years later. Perhaps she sang, on that first night, the Scottish highland lullaby that her mother must have sung to her. The words sounded like haileu, haileu shaileu... It was an old work song from the sheep raising days sung as women beat the the wet wool to dry it.
And so I would have fallen asleep, wrapped in the diaper the hospital had given me. It was, my mother told me, the only diaper I would ever have.
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Comments
seeler
Posted on: 09/20/2009 18:38
Graeme - that is wonderful. Your younger children may not appreciate it now, but as they grow older they will appreciate it more. Unfortunately, we usually only get interested in the past when our parents or grandparents are getting too old, or are gone - and all their memories gone with them. You are leaving a lasting heritage for your kids.
A few years ago - just before my granddaughter was born - my sister asked me to write down some stories of our childhood for our grandchildren. I wrote a collection of short stories, and put them together into a book, and had twelve copies printed for my children and my sister's children to share with their families. Mine didn't go into the current events of the time like yours did, but simply told of a family picnic at a lake; apple picking at an old farm where my mother told the story of her grandmother being one of the first settlers in the region; my brother meeting a bear in the woods; my sister sharing her Christmas gifts with a burned out friend; and me climbing over a fence and breaking my arm. The stories covered the years from when we were little until we were entering our teens and ended with the story of our mother's death.
Yeh, I remember what it was like before Medicare, when childbirth or illness could take everything a person earned and more. Mom's medical expenses kept our family in poverty although my father worked hard. Once I remember sending a doctor $2.00 for a $40.00 bill, and promising that I would send another $2.00 every payday until the debt was paid. I got a receipt back "Paid In Full", but that didn't always happen.
SG
Posted on: 09/20/2009 19:24
Memoir writing can be a gift to others and to self. It can be a legacy to those left behind after our time ends and it can rewrite your own legacy in what time remains. It is therapuetic.
It was recommended to me at the beginning of my illness. My large regret was that I left no legacy, no children... One can always feel what remains amounts to nothing. A nurse, who had been forced to listen to me perhaps far too long, told me to write a memoir.
It worked through emotion and purpose. It was not about an account of my life, but it was making meaning out of my life, my memories, my pains.... It had what it needed and skipped what it did not need. It showed the changes in me and let me see things about myself I had largely ignored. It did not tell. It revealed. It was not objective. It was real and raw and bias. It was me poured out on pages.
I write every now and again something that gets tucked into the memoir. It is my gift, to others and to myself.
graeme
Posted on: 09/20/2009 20:43
stevieG - I think you hit on an importantn point. I, too, find the writing more for me than for anyone else. It's a look in the mirror to pick up all sorts of things you had not noticed.
Seeler - You're quite right about the sense it was a different world. I never thought of it as poverty at the time. I'm not sure I could have faced it if I had. It must have been at times terrifying for my parents who had to bear the responsibility.
graeme
carolla
Posted on: 09/20/2009 21:29
Ah graeme - you MUST connect with Mike Paterson! After reading his blog here ( http://www.wondercafe.ca/blogs/mikepaterson/%C3%A2%C2%A9-love-gifting-you-stories-grandchilren ) I arranged for him to come to our church to a week long writing seminar - "With Love - Gifting your stories to grandchildren." Twelve of us spent the most amazing 5 days together - learning to write (which, I must say graeme you already do very well!) sharing stories, and giving feedback.
I learned so much, not just about writing, but also about the other incredible people in the group - a connection was made that would never have happened without the workshop.
Actually, it IS a small group ministry - we have continued to meet monthly as a group to share stories, laughter, tears, amazement, despair. Some even fax or e-mail their stories to the group when they are away! How's that for connection?
graeme
Posted on: 09/20/2009 21:44
That sounds great - a wonderful idea that works wonderfully.
The "memoirs" i'm writing aren't even attempts at stories. They're just memories jolted to the surface with notes to remind me of them.
But I have been, and still am, a professional writer. My first big sales a good 25 years ago now, were to Reader's digest. And I have one with them now that should be out any month. So I'm very interested in your small group ministry. Maybe this is something I can do. How often do you meet? Or was it an intense five days, with the rest by e mail?
carolla
Posted on: 09/20/2009 22:28
Hi graeme - take a peek at Mike's blog - he pretty much outlines there what happens. We met every morning for 5 consecutive days - 9 to noon - for the workshop where we learned how to craft a story, how to trigger ideas for stories, how to actually 'publish' small books of selected stories for specific people for special occasions, etc. We had homework ... writing of course ... and then would read to the group or submit work to Mike the next day for feedback. Great experience.
And so now, we (the group from my church - without Mike as he's living out east now) meet once a month for a couple of hours to share stories - it keeps us writing, and is a wonderful gathering. I'm by far the youngest in the group, and am enthralled by the stories I'm hearing from others - life truly is extraordinary in its most mundane daily details.
graeme
Posted on: 09/20/2009 22:54
Thank you. I'll certainly give a try to his blog.
graeme
paradox3
Posted on: 09/22/2009 06:28
Carolla,
This sounds like an amazing experience, and a wonderful ongoing group.
Thanks for the link to Mike's blog. After I looked at it, it rose to the top of the blog list. (I didn't realize this happened after a blog is viewed.)
MikePaterson
Posted on: 09/22/2009 12:15
Thanks for the encouragement, Carol!
I LOVE doing these courses, they've always worked well and sparked good things... for the participants, for the recipients of the collections and, never least, for me! I've yet to meet someone who isn't interesting...
graeme
Posted on: 09/22/2009 12:44
hey. I'm not far away. Your chances of achieving your goal of meeting someone who isn't interesting have improved enormously.
MikePaterson
Posted on: 09/22/2009 13:21
If you're nor far away, come by and we can see which of us bores the other first. We even have a guest room so it can be extended as long as you like.