About 25 years ago when my late father entered semi-retirement a fellow retired clergy member advised him that if he ever intended to write his memoirs, sooner would be better than later. The reasoning went that once a person reached their ripe old age it would probably take a good long while to tell many of the stories that had accumulated.
The sheer volume of work is not the only concern. I can attest to the fact that
once you approach retirement age the recall of details can become an issue.
Memories fade, dates become sketchy, and who actually said what can be difficult
to recall. My dad’s friend had a suggestion for that too.
He advised that since they are the writer’s memories, from their point of view,
and no one can really fact check that, go ahead and write what you remember,
how you remember it.
I like that advice. I took it to heart.
I like that advice. I took it to heart.
On March 11th, 2011 I began writing and posting on my “Who Knew?” blog.
With the blog I’ve taken the advice of my freshman composition instructor, the award-winning writer David Mura, by trying to use my own voice when writing.
I type up my tales, as closely as I can, to how I would say it if I were telling you the stories out loud.
Grammar be damned!
I ain’t got time, nor the inclination, to clean up my writing to fit some prescribed format.
Grammar Nazis? Just move along, there’s nothing to see here.
I hope that as my work is being read the reader hears my voice reciting the words.
I think good storytellers have that ability.
And I’ve been fortunate enough to know some really good storytellers.
I’ve written about some of them. I intend to write about others.
Most of them are just regular folks who can spin a yarn.
Others are professional writers who do it in a more refined manner.
But to me both a well-turned phrase and a well told story are things of beauty
to behold.
My favorite author, David Sedaris, is a master of the short
essay. I’ve read all of his books and one of my favorites is “Me Talk Pretty
One Day”. The book begins with David’s story about being pulled out of his class
in elementary school in North Carolina to spend time with a speech therapist in
an effort to eliminate his lisp. We still detect traces of the lisp however every
October when we go to one of Minneapolis’ downtown theater to listen to him
read stories, answer a few questions, and general crack wise, for us, and a few
thousand of his other fans.
Sedaris is, in my estimation, a prodigious writer. He began keeping a journal in 1977 and has rarely missed entering something each day for the last 40 years. He’s also written 11 books of short stories mainly about his life, his family, and their quirky tales.
As I get older and take the time to reflect I
realize that it’s the stories that matter.Sedaris is, in my estimation, a prodigious writer. He began keeping a journal in 1977 and has rarely missed entering something each day for the last 40 years. He’s also written 11 books of short stories mainly about his life, his family, and their quirky tales.
When all is said and done the stories remain.
And sometimes the quirkiest ones are the best.
I had an opportunity recently to visit with an old friend who used to be a sportswriter for one of the Twin Cities’ daily papers. We rehashed old times and laughed about shared memories. At one point I asked him, now that he’d retired, why he hadn’t written a book or a blog, or contributed any pieces anywhere that I had noticed. He merely shook his head and said he wasn’t interested in writing anymore, and that he often found that books by retired sportswriters were mainly vanity projects done more for the writer’s benefit than the readers’.
My first thought was a disappointed feeling because I always liked to read his articles. I thought I probably would have enjoyed the book that I just found out will never be written.
Then I started to think about my writing.
Is it just a vanity project?
Do the readers get anything out of it?
I began writing this blog to share some stories I have found interesting over the years.
If nothing else it can be a legacy I leave. Stories you that survive me can discuss and laugh about at my memorial service. That’ll make that time less uncomfortable for my heirs.
If that makes it a vanity project, then I plead GUILTY.
But I’d also like to plead my case, as I’ve typically viewed my posts as tributes to the people, places, and events I’ve met, visited, and experienced along the way.
As for my readers (I’ve had almost 24 thousand page views over the years) I seem to get a few compliments and have even been told once that I was one of my reader’s favorite writers.
I gotta admit, that made my day.
More recently, one of my posts was, unbeknownst to me, passed on to a relative of the person who was the subject of that story. I’m told he liked it and found it informative since it contained stories he hadn’t heard.
Another day made.
So THANK YOU ALL for reading along.
I hope you’re getting something out of it.
I DO appreciate you indulging me.
I’ll keep my day job, but I’ll keep churning these things out, and hopefully I’ll write pretty one day.
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