Letters From Me

I've just finished reading Lilian Jackson Braun's The Cat Who series--all 29 books!  Have you read them?  They are "cozy mysteries" in which a Siamese Cat named Koko helps solves murders.  After a few books James Qwilleran, Koko's owner, settles in the fictional town of Pickax City, population 3,000, "400 miles north of everywhere."  It is widely believed Braun's setting was somewhere in Michigan where she lived for a number of years.  One of the reasons I loved the series so much is that Qwill, as he was nicknamed, lived within walking distance of downtown and made his daily rounds visiting eateries, shops, and visits with the storekeepers, etc.  This reminded me of my three years in Valparaiso, Indiana (1964-67) when I was a teenager.  This is a postcard off the Internet of downtown Valpo, as we called the town, in the 1960s. . . .

Lincolnway, Valparaiso, Indiana

View Outside My Window - July

♫From the Heaven of My Heart♫

This is the view outside our main guest bedroom.  There are two windows and they both overlook our woods.  The boardwalk you see leads around to the back of the house up a ramp to the deck to the backdoor.  My husband built it 21 years ago for my mother's wheelchair while I cared for her during her last illness. . . .

Summertime

 ♫Summertime♫

The lazy, hazy days of Summer.....When I think of summer now I think of the wild Ox-eye Daisies* and new-born fawns that are in my gardens. . . .

View Outside My Window - June

♫Somewhere in Time♫

 This view is outside a guest room window taken through the dollhouse's nursery window. . . .

Ice and Memories

♫Through the Storm♫

Wednesday morning this week we woke up before the sun as usual.  As we drank our morning coffee, I back in bed, Ken in the livingroom, we could hear creaking and popping and snapping, and OH, NO, boom! Gabriel had been let out earlier to do his business, but when he rang the bell again to be let out after sunrise this is what greeted him.....

Childhood Memories

♫The Way We Were♫

My First Birthday

How well do you remember your childhood?  I remember quite a bit about mine.  It helps that I lived in 16 different houses in 18 years (17 if you count the two weeks in an apartment after the fire) because my memories are attached to a particular house which then tells me what year it was and makes recall easier.  It also helps that my Dad made home movies starting when I was not yet two, and in later years I kept a diary and photo album of my own.  

For the past month I've been working on a memoir about my childhood.  I really don't like that word much--memoir.  It's sounds rather pretentious for someone like me who is not famous, but it's the only word I could find in the dictionary that fit.  I brought down my boxes of memorabilia from the attic and have been going through all the notebooks, bits of paper, ticket stubs, photos, yearbooks, etc.  The Internet has allowed me to find street views of where I used to live and former friends on Facebook.  I've been corresponding on Facebook with the first guy I had a crush on when I was 15.... 

Clark is at the top

....and all of a sudden I'm 15 again as we correspond about those times.   

I met my husband-to-be later that year and have every thought and feeling recorded of falling in love with him....

Ken

All of this has actually unsettled me.  Going back to my earliest memories starting when I was three--almost 60 years ago--and then reliving the years in the detailed diaries I kept not only brings up long-forgotten feelings, it makes you realize just how fast time does fly.  One moment I'm absorbed in my memories of being three....

Me and my friend, Lillian

and the next I qualify for social security!  

As I uncover one memory several more come flooding in and then I wish I'd done this project in my 20's when I still had both my parents to ask all the questions that are forming in my heart.  Things I didn't know I wanted or needed to know about their lives....

My parents

....things about myself I'm sure I no longer remember--of who I was....then.

They say your personality is formed in your first three years....and then things happen to you that change who you really are.  For me, the moves did a great deal in allowing me to continue to be shy and unsure of myself.  And seeing my grandfather....

Me and Papaw

....in his casket when I was 10 made me afraid of dead people and the fire when I was 11 made me care more about my belongings than was good.  And my perfectionism started when....well, all that's in my story.  Thankfully, I have overcome most of those shortcomings over the years.  But what else might there be I haven't seen yet that I've always considered "just me" and therefore blithely accepted?  Or what talent has been covered up and lain dormant?

Looking back has made me care for that little girl....

Age 2

....the one who was shy but yet could look the camera in the eye.  As I gather all my research materials and sit down to write my memoir, for that is what it is (memoir: an autobiography or a written account of one's memory of certain events or people), I'm listening closely to what that little girl wants to tell me about who she really is so that together we can become who she was meant to be--finally.