Magical Memoir Moments
My father proposed to my mother while they sat on a porch glider. Stuart popped the question on a double seated swing. Forty-six years later, love is motion.
“Poetry will make your life infinitely better,” said a teacher. “Take it with you in your heart and in your backpack.” Most students scoffed. This week five friends, ones who believed the teacher, converged on a country road and moved into a meadow Up the hill they went with one purpose: to read poems to…
Where have all the protests gone? A visit to Washington, DC, illustrates the change from the protest May 9, 1970, to the current “war is not the answer” signs in front of the White House.
Nothing ignites a routine like a sudden shared vision for adventure. A recent spontaneous trip to Washington, DC, brought back memories of other quick decisions and short trips, starting in Virginia Beach.
This picture was taken in 1961 when I was in seventh grade and 13 years old. Two years ago this week Herald Press chose it for the cover of my memoir. See the subtle differences? When a baby turns two, people cluck their tongues and wish the parents well. “Enjoy the Terrible Twos,” they say….
Two Mennonite college students met as roommates in 1966 and have kept in touch. This year we celebrate our 45th college class reunion and then take up another adventure — to Cuba!
An old painting, uncovered from The Box in the Basement, reminds me of my deepest desire: to become an artist who keeps learning and teaching.
This week’s vacation at Long Beach Island evokes strong memories of my childhood love of swimming. The rarity of a day at a beach or even a swimming pool made it very precious from the anticipation beforehand, to the packing, driving, arriving, splashing, and returning.
Sometimes a Magical Memoir Moment occurs in less than a second. The way my parents told the story, their first meeting was like that. If either of them had made different choices that fateful day, forty-six people would have very different stories. Or no story at all.
They say that eyes are the windows to the soul. My father’s eyes look different to me in the few pictures I have from his last years. The one below gave me shivers when it appeared last week on Facebook. The photo comes from the 1979 Lititz, Pennsylvania, high school yearbook, The Warrian. Daddy’s last…