By telling life stories we fill in those gaps
in history left out of the textbooks. Write or record on video or audio the
memories you can't forget and the reason you remember them.
Your story is unique. No one else owns your life experiences or what you learned from
those experiences. You can sign up for my next memoir writing classes at
https://www.iclyhc.org/Events
This is the beginning of one of my stories. It needs work and will be edited and revised, but want to show you how you can write about a time in your life that only you can tell.
The Way We Began
By Glenda Council BeallI met Barry, tall, blond with eyes that turned from hazel to blue, depending on the color shirt he wore, on July 4, 1963. He was a blind date. A mutual friend had given him my number. My number was also my sister’s number, and he said that he called for either of us since he knew neither of us. I lucked out. Gay, my sister, was out of town.
Our day together at the lake house where Barry lived with two other men eventually became enjoyable, but at first, he paid little attention to me at all. I quickly became aware that he was popular with his friends, especially the women. As soon as we arrived, they insisted he play his guitar and sing.
He parked me alone on a stool and took his place on the hearth of the large stone fireplace. The women sat around him on the floor. At this time folk music had taken the country and Barry, who had just come from California where the Kingston Trio was the rage, engaged the entire crowd with Tom Dooley, House of the Rising Sun, and his excellent rendition of Freight Train, showing off his guitar skills. His Goya classical guitar still sits on a stand in my living room with his note to have the crack fixed.
At the lake house in Dougherty County, Georgia that July 4th, I decided to leave my date with his adoring audience and walk down to the water. I regretted coming to this party where I didn’t know a soul. My self-esteem was not at its best in those days. A year after graduating from the University of Georgia with an elementary education degree, I lived at home on the farm with my folks. I spent most of my spare time riding horseback and writing in my journal. Men had disappointed me. I thought I would be better off if I just avoided them for now.
Although my family was musical, none of us played an instrument, except Mother who played piano by ear. I had taken piano with Mrs. Bland, but never made much progress. Sometimes now, I wish I had continued with those lessons, as Mother wanted me to do. I wish she had taken the piano lessons herself because she loved playing and had never had the chance to study music.
At the lake house in Dougherty County, Georgia that July 4th, I decided to leave my date with his adoring audience and walk down to the water. I regretted coming to this party where I didn’t know a soul. My self-esteem was not at its best in those days. A year after graduating from the University of Georgia with an elementary education degree, I lived at home on the farm with my folks. I spent most of my spare time riding horseback and writing in my journal. Men had disappointed me. I thought I would be better off if I just avoided them for now.
There is more to the story, and
I can share it another day if you want.
