May 3 is National Teacher Day. In Kindergarten, we were asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. Girls were given the choice of mother, nun, nurse, or teacher—not necessarily in that order. We had to say our choice aloud. I knew that mother—from what I had witnessed thus far—was not a very […]
Posts in the Childhood category:
The Scent of Writing
The scent of writing is all around me this morning in the form of a bouquet of lilacs. Yesterday, I placed the Mason jar bouquet on the shelf next to my bed, where I begin my morning reading and writing with my first cups of coffee. The scent of lilacs. How that returns me to […]
Norman Rockwell and the Dolls
The Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge had only three cars in the parking lot on this cool wintry-looking April day. I parked, knowing that I’d enjoy the luxury of having the museum almost entirely to myself. I tried to get here on a couple of other days, but made the mistake of beginning to write […]
Snowstorm
A spring snowstorm arrived overnight in the Berkshires, triggering more childhood memories. Haven’t lived where snow is a regular event for more than twenty-five years. There was plenty of warning. We all knew the snow was coming. I went to the Stop & Shop yesterday afternoon. Stocked up on groceries for a couple days’ worth […]
Hiking the Appalachian Trail
Yesterday, I accidentally found myself hiking the Appalachian Trail. How does one “accidentally” hike the Appalachian Trail? By hiking a trail that overlaps the A.T. for a short distance. Pleasant surprise! I’m here in western Massachusetts visiting relatives for the Easter holiday. Under Saturday’s brilliant sky, I went looking for a trail to hike. Decided […]
More Editing
Three days after creating my chapter and scene notecards, I’m making sense of my category and themes, ready to continue editing. The category is Coming of Age. The themes were not so obvious to me. However, when you simplify the contents of your childhood into a patchwork pattern on a table, suddenly the themes that […]
Editing Memoir
Editing memoir is a long slog. The first draft is easy. It’s bleed onto the page. Dance on the page. Sing on the page. Burn. Cry. Get angry. Pour it all out. Dig back to the beginning. Try to remember every last detail. Then the editing began. Editing is when the doubts creep in. Who […]
The Hunted
I was breathless. I darted barefoot across the length of my mother’s kitchen on the second floor of the creaky hundred-year-old farmhouse, bumping around chairs and pushing off the harsh edge of the table top as I cut a vee through the pungent scent of the morning’s coffee and burnt toast. The chilly floor was […]
Babci and Me. Courage.
My babci (grandmother), Róża, was only seventeen when she boarded the train to Antwerp—alone— near Kolno, in northeast Poland. It was December 1911, three years shy of the turmoil of World War I. Stars sparkled in the moonlight on the coarse crust of the deep frozen snow and young Róża drew her cheap coat closer […]
Two Birthdays
This is a re-write of my earlier chapter “I Am Born”. Two Birthdays It was a few days before Memorial Day 1929, the last week in May. My maternal grandparents were out on the town, partying in the rumble seat of their best friends’ Buick Coupe. Mémère loved to dance and sing, personifying the quintessential […]