I once sat down to write my memoir. The initial scene was set and I had a perfect picture in my mind of me as a six year old, sitting on the sidewalk, waiting for the dew to dry. Once I started to introduce others into my story, I got lost. Suddenly I felt overwhelmed with the responsibility of writing about other people.
It is easy to find quotes from writers that support me writing my memories as I remember them regardless of others. They are my memories after all.
Memories are funny little creatures. They are skewed based on our personal perspective. When I went to spend a week in the mountains with my sisters, this became evident. The first few days we were in a huff with each other. We felt like our lives and our memories were not being validated. It was as if the three of us lived totally different lives in totally different families. All three of us remembered things differently. How could that be?
Age is one factor, placement in the family another. Add personality traits and temperament to parents at very different stages of their lives and you soon realize – it was very different for all of us.
I was the baby of the family. The general consensus was I was pampered, given more freedom, and therefore loved more. What I felt I wanted them to know was that I felt alone much of my childhood. I was the pain-in-the-butt tag along. “Watch your sister.” “Take her with you.” “You can’t go. Someone needs to stay with your sister.” As soon as they could spread their wings and fly, they did. Who could blame them? Many of my early memories are of me playing by myself. My later memories are of me, alone with my parents.
I left home right out of high school to join the Air Force. I was ill-prepared. The transition was challenging and difficult, but so necessary.
Will I write my memoir someday? I don’t know for sure, but I doubt it. I may publish a book of stories about my life, but that seems easier somehow.
There is a lot left unwritten – places I hope to go, things I hope to accomplish. We welcome a seventh grandchild this year and I know there are many adventures yet to come as he grows up.
Maybe I better hustle a little. Anytime I have a quandry in life, there is usually an episode of The Andy Griffith Show that will set me right. Today I will take a cue from Aunt Bee.
Written for Tranquil Thursday.
fromcavewalls.wordpress.com 
I think your family would appreciate your published memoir. It would be a treasure to them, I have no doubt. And it would be handed down for your descendants to read, far into the future.
I wish my mum had written one.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Maybe. I have a three page letter written by my 3X great grandmother and it makes me feel so connected to her.
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A very interesting point Maggie that we all remember the same event differently. Writing a memoir may mean offending others.
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Is it offensive simply because the points of view are different or do we assume we might say something they do not want others to know?
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I think it may be later. Not necessarily but sometimes people get offended. If you share those parts where others are mentioned it can help minimize this issue
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I wouldn’t do it. I feel guilty enough for the various things I’ve said about my parents arguing…
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Why guilt I wonder? Is what you wrote the truth? It is such an interesting examination of our guilt and why we carry it.
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I love how you described the different perspectives – just based on birth order and then personality mixes in. I hope you find your way to writing about your story, your family, either in a full memoir or selected stories. It’s tricky with many different viewpoints but yours matters, too! And…thanks for the Aunt Bea wisdom. Love that show…that and Dick Van Dyke…never fail to calm me down. xo!
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Vicki, I agree – it can be tricky. I did learn that when I write it must be from my perspective and not accusatory or demeaning. If a family member is an alcoholic and everyone knows it and discusses it behind their back, is it only the person that puts it in writing the person who revealed a truth/secret although everyone already knew?
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I feel you about that. I’ve written a long piece about my mother and recently had that lengthy chat with a cousin about his perceptions — he saw things differently in my mom, but not in a challenging way. More sad. And you’re right. Everyone might **know** but the one who tells? Spotlight and potentially blame on that person. Yup. I suspect it will all come together for you…you are such a talented person, and I can’t imagine a better place to be than remembering that it’s your experience that you’re sharing. Lots of hugs! 🥰
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Thank you. Sometimes it is hard to come to terms with the love we have for someone while also understanding they wrestled with their own demons.
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Oh my goodness, yes. I agree with you…it’s taken me a long time to find that place – realizing my mom couldn’t give what she never had. Know what I mean? 😘
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We all have differing memories in our families. But, your memories are what would be recorded. There is nothng wrong with you documenting your past. It might help your family understand you. None of us have the exactt past. Write your momoir.
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It is still in consideration. I’ll admit it continues to be a struggle. I need to think on this more.
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Aunt Bee was a wise woman, and that whole show passed along a lot of wisdom as well.
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I couldn’t agree more!
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I agree. No one feels the same things about a shared event
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But would you write it?
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I have always been convinced that my siblings and i had different experiences in the same house and the same time. Write away my friend. Share your memories.
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How much would you put on paper knowing your truth might be challenged?
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I know anything I would say would most likely be challenged. I still think I’d say my truth.
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This is beautiful Maggie, I understand being the baby of the family too. Once the novelty of me wore off I was also the pain in the butt taggalong!? But I , as you did grow into the family as I grew older and we had the honour of more time with our parents even if we didn’t realize it at first 💜💜💜💜
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We were novelties, weren’t we? Little did they know!
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Lol not at the beginning 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
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I know of a writer who was in a similar quandary as you. She decided to write her story as fiction. She found that she could write the same story, just using different names. She was amazed (and, I imagine, a bit relieved) when some of her family members didn’t recognize themselves in her “novel.”
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She found a creative solution that worked for her and I cans we how that might be easier. It is funny how people do not recognize themselves when seen through someone else’s eyes.
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If you live long enough, you’ll outlive them all then you can write what you want. OR, if all else fails, you could write a disclaimer acknowledging the truth that everyone has a different truth and let it go at that. I too am the baby, and my sister and I have differing opinions of the way things were. And yes, I had an alcoholic sister with some hilarious stories to tell, but I’m not sure if I’d be willing to be the ones to spill the beans. It takes courage—but then, following your heart always does!
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I suppose what you said in your last two sentences is exactly what I wrestle with.
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I totally understand how siblings can have such varying memories depending on birth order and personality. I am the older child and yet experienced the same aloneness you did.
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Birth order has a range of potential impacts.
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I am solving that in a couple of ways. I print up my blog posts every few months into little books. A lot of memory is there. I also have journal writing which I am happy to leave behind me. I will also write some of the pertinent story for just my daughter and her kids. I understand generational trauma and think it will be helpful. As for public writing, my blog is as public as I intend to get.
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Those are excellent ideas worth consideration. Thank you.
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Aunt Bee for the win! Ha, ha. I find it interesting that you say that you probably won’t write your memoir, but will possibly write a book of stories and how that sounds easier. Ha, ha, I’m so with you. The book of stories for me sounds something I could finish and have fun with, a memoir, no way. It sounds so official and such a huge challenge to complete. A small, but huge difference. In any event, I encourage you to keep writing . . . .love to read whatever book you publish. Keep at it.
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I understand what you mean. I heard mum and her sisters arguing about their childhood memories. They all remembered things differently and of course none of them could be wrong.
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I was the oldest but, like you, I go to Mayberry when I need a break.
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That was the Andy Griffith episode where she buys a couple of bottles of some traveling salesman’s “elixir” that’s about 70% alcohol…
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It sure is!
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