As you get the Christmas tree dragged to the curb, the empty boxes and wrapping paper into the trash, and the photos of your family get-togethers downloaded to the p.c. remember to commit your memories to pen and paper. Because, if you write, it is also a time to gather up those stories waiting to be told!
Several of my published pieces are the result of a memory recalled here, or a story recalled there at family gatherings. So to get you into the "write" frame of mind, let me guide you through the dark, shortest days of the year, towards the light in your heart.
I hope you took time this year to talk with your elders. If not grab the phone and thank them for being a part of your holidays. Chat a bit, tell them that you write and ask them to help you recall a funny or poignant memory from your lives together. I took a chance one year and wrote Banshees a story recalled from my childhood. My family enjoyed the retelling, and now we all have an enjoyable memory of my late dad that we often read aloud at family gatherings.
While you are on the phone, wander into the kitchen and see if the Coffee Monkey has brewed up a pot. Check the 'fridge to see if there might be a some left-over holiday desserts to munch as you sip your coffee. But I don't think you will find any remants of the disastrous dessert we call Our A-Team Cake!
As you talk with your family member, jog your memory. Do they fish, or hunt, or jump on the 'gamblers special' bus? Let them know you are hoping to put some memories down on paper. Perhaps you will end up with a camping story such as Smokey's Lesson or like the hectic day On The Fast Track.
Perhaps as you sit and ponder you may recall a favorite teacher and can tell a story from the heart as did Mr. Rath in my story Mentor.
What about those rascals that showed up for the Christmas presents and ran around the house like hooligans? My story, Broomstick Bazooka is fair warning that eventually the long arm (and keen marksmanship) of the law can't be escaped.
Talk a moment with your elders and honor the service of the soldiers. Ask them if they recall a memorable incident like the two old marines in Mixed Signals. These are the stories from the heart.
I hope these dark days of winter remind you that the light of life always shines in your heart. So grab a notepad and pencil and gather those stories!
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Comments: 9
Good stories you have written and published this year, James ! And good stories you have published BEFORE this year, too !!!
Wishing you a happy new year,
Elisha
thanks!
James gives us a rich array of ideas we can use to capture and create the memory. What he has developed so beautifully within this piece is the "why to" and the "how to" in the process. He inspires us.
I'm ready to begin to ask audacious questions once again. Aren't you?
Perhaps if we make a concerted effort to capture the present and the past with greater clarity in our own stories, we, too, will have a legacy to pass on to the future.
Before I worked on "Mixed Signals," which was after my Pop had passed on, I had been to Washington D.C about ten years ago, and visited the Korean War memorial. We were with a group of scouts and our guide made sure we viewed that memorial just at dusk. The shadows were long, the coolness of the night air was just gathering and the experience was eerie. The memorial includes a group of soldiers in foul weather ponchos, their rifles at the ready, some grim faced and possibly wounded, slogging through the juniper 'tundra.' One with a firm set to his jaw is turning to look back over his shoulder.
As I stood looking over the memorial an old man standing next to me said, with a bit of anger, "They hear those God damned Chinese bugles." I gently asked if he'd been there, and he almost lost all composure. He'd been a Navy radioman on a ship trying to supply the Marines. "They fought hand to hand," he said, "and every time they'd radio us, they said they could hear those damned bugles getting closer and closer." It all came back to him 45 years later looking at those statues of the soldiers.
The Chinese had denied they were involved in the war and airmen like my pop were called back to swoop in on those 'non existant' troops, to give our Marines a chance to get back alive.
I am glad I talked with my Pop about the memorial, although he got glassy eyed as he went back in time. We didn't talk about it after that, but I remembered that incident from my childhood, which became mixed signals.