“I think we’re losing something. One hundred years ago, everybody wrote. Everybody wrote letters. Lots of people kept journals. People wrote down the events of the day. Today if you say to somebody you meet, “That’s an interesting story. You should write it down,” their first response is, “I’m not a writer” — and by that they mean that writing now belongs to those of us who do it for a living. I think that’s wrong. I think writing should belong to everybody and I think everybody should write because it’s good for our history and it’s good for our psyche.” – Anna Quindlen
“Being a reporter taught me how to write even when I didn’t feel like writing. People ask me all the time about writer’s block. Can you imagine saying to the city editor, “I’m blocked today”? Being in a newsroom also taught me to write tight, look for telling details, and write dialogue that sounds the way real people talk.” – Anna Quindlen
I didn’t realize that Anna Quindlen wrote a book called Write For Your Life in 2022. I haven’t read it yet, but I will now. Anna Quindlen has always been one of my favorite writers. The quotes above are from an interview that she did last summer, with the The Saturday Evening Post, about the book.
Write. You have a story. It’s a good one. Writing will help you make sense of your story and it will help your friends and your family make sense of you (maybe even after you are long gone). Make yourself write every single day. Sometimes I come to this computer with that ho/hum feeling that I truly have nothing to write about it, but I make myself do it, because I am committed to writing a daily blog, for myself, and for you, my dear readers. It is important to me to strive to be a person of my word. In this way, you help me stay accountable and I am forever grateful for your presence. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Everyone has a story. And it’s a better story than you want to believe. Yesterday, right before dinner, I decided to get a quick nail polish change on my toenails (not a full pedicure, I didn’t want to spend the time or the money – just a quick polish change). The manager of the nail salon sat down and she took only about ten minutes to do my polish change. In this time, she matter-of-factly told me that she had just returned to work after her father-in-law’s funeral. He was of Laotian descent, and he was a Buddhist and she said that Buddhists tend to have long drawn out funeral ceremonies, so she had been to different parts of the service for four and a half days. “I’ve been doing a lot of eating and sitting,” she said. Her father-in-law was a sweet, quiet man, who wanted to please those he loved so when he was diagnosed with cancer, he agreed to do the chemotherapy process, even though he didn’t want to do it. Late this summer, he finally told his family he that was done with partaking in chemo. He wanted to enjoy his last days. Her father-in-law died peacefully about a week ago, after small stay in hospice after refusing a feeding tube. During his funeral planning and service, the manager told me that it was so interesting to see what grief brought out in the different people in her family. The so-called “most responsible” eldest daughter fell apart and wasn’t able to do much of anything. At times they couldn’t even locate her. On the other hand, one of the granddaughters, a busy woman in her early 20s, who hasn’t had much to do with her family at all, became everyone’s rock, particularly for her grandmother, the heartsick wife. The salon manager’s son is in middle school. He considered his grandfather to be “his best friend.” In their Buddhist tradition, as a sign of mourning, the men in the family shave their heads. The manager’s son has a big head with big ears which makes him feel self conscious. Her son is in that emotionally volatile and often mired in insecurities, middle school stage. He was torn as to what to do. Thankfully, the elders in his family, and the elders in his tradition decided that enough men had shaved their heads to honor his grandfather, and they reassured the young man that his job was to honor his grandfather/best friend, in his heart.
In ten minutes, I learned so much. I learned about this woman’s family, and things that I didn’t know about Buddhist traditions. I felt connected to this woman who has painted my toenails off and on throughout the years. I could relate to her heartsickness for being the wife and the mother of a grieving family.
It took me about ten minutes to write the paragraph above. Listen to others. Listen to yourself. Write it down. Write it down, because as Anna Quindlen says, “It’s good for our history and it’s good for our psyche.”
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
You are so, so right, Kelly. And I haven’t heard of that book by Anna Quindlen either. It’s on my list now. I love that you write for yourself and us every day. I may not always comment, but please know that every day I take something special away from your writing. You are a gift. Enjoy your day.
Awww, thank you, Gail. As I said, you are a gift to me. <3
Anna Quindlen is right on the money. When I have a new memoir commission, I send the subject a list of questions that helps me get to know them. Without fail, the person sends me their answers along with the comment, “I didn’t know that I remembered this much!” or something along those lines.
As you noted, everyone has a story. Last week I ran into Walmart, just a quick trip. They were in the process of re-flooring the entire store, so the shelves and racks had been relocated while they worked on each section. I walked past what had been the shoe area, and I saw the cutest pair of ankle boots – exactly the color I’ve been looking for, in my size, for $19.95! Of course, I was compelled to try them on!
All of the shoe department benches had been pushed together to form a little island, and I sat down. There was a little old lady on the adjacent bench, and she greeted me with a tired smile. “Oh, you’re going to rest, too!” she said. I showed her the boots and said, “Nope, I’m going to try these on.” She asked to look at them, so I handed them over, a little perplexed by the request and a little perturbed because I just wanted to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible.
She then began telling me that when she first came to America from England in 1951, she worked in a shoe factory. Her job was to fashion the heel cup on each shoe, and attach it to the last (sole). She held up the boots and pointed out how the seams were sewn evenly, and how there was the same amount of distance between the sole and the seam on each boot. This is an indicator of a quality-made shoe, and ensures that the shoe will fit true-to-size. I was then given permission to purchase the boots because, in her estimation, they would hold up well over time.
Well, I was fascinated by all of this unexpected knowledge, so I just let her keep talking. Her name was Bette (Betty with an “e” she told me), she was 93 years old, and she was making a supply run because she felt energetic that day. Her walker was piled high with toilet paper and cat food. I sat there for the next HOUR, listening to her tell me about England during the war, watching the bombs drop on London from her hometown of Blackpool, a seaside village famous for it’s pier and amusement park. She described the “bathing vans” that would appear in the summer. I asked if those were portable dressing rooms, because I knew about changing cabanas, but had never heard of a bathing van. Bette’s eyes lit up, and she said, “You are the only person who has ever guessed correctly about the bathing vans!” To say that she was delighted is an understatement.
I forgot all about being in a hurry, and reminded myself to simply be present in that moment. I understood that this was special; it was a gift. And it was a gift to Bette as well – of all the people that she could have chosen to talk to, she ended up with a memoirist who has voracious curiosity about the details of people’s lives, and who was eager to hear more. We were truly a (temporary) match made in heaven.
My only regret is that I didn’t give her my card so we could keep in touch. I would have loved to sit with her for a few more hours and hear more about her life, her lovely neighbors that look out for her, and her views about the world in general. (King Charles will do well for Britain, because he has trained his entire life for the job; and former president Trump is a disgrace for the way he disregards the common man.)
Since I also write fiction, you can be sure that Bette will show up in my future work. She was so lovely, so delightful, so engaging – how could I NOT create a character based upon her? She is just a regular person, not famous or particularly notable, yet she has an amazing life story, and I am so grateful that I listened to my intuition and took the time to sit with her. We were both rewarded – she with a new audience, and me with a treasure trove of information which I will someday use to create an homage to Bette. And I’m sure that readers will be just as tickled by her as I was!
Oh yeah, and I bought the boots and Bette was right – they fit and feel great. I will never look at a pair of shoes the same way again.
Oh Kelly! I love this story!! Everyone has one and they are intriguing and interesting and all accumulate to make a person who they are at this point in their life’s journey.
Yes, all the feels with that story. Sometimes I love people. Sometimes I ….
Gail, right?!
If Bette had been half her age and started talking to me in Walmart, I would have been looking around for her accomplice that was lifting my wallet. It was nice to have a purely innocent encounter with someone who wanted nothing more than to visit. We definitely made each other’s day.
The other takeaway from your encounter with Bette is that Walmart makes quality shoes! Who knew?!