Family · Health · Memory · Nature · Personal · reading · School

Broken Hearted in Grade School

Reading very quickly became my favorite thing.  By sixth grade, I was reading at twelfth grade level.  I often spent recess or other free time in the school library.  I was reading from one side to the other of the shelves in our small library.  When I got through fiction, I read biography and history.  Best of all, I found mythology.

Once I found mythology, I looked for stories everywhere.  Meanwhile, I experienced all the common childhood illnesses, including measles, mumps and chicken pox. I usually had bronchitis at least once each winter. I had walking pneumonia and a couple concussions. I didn’t break any bones, but I stepped on bees, sprained ankles and tumbled off bikes. Reading saved me during all the down time. I loved ordering Scholastic books at school and visiting the library.

After my open heart surgery at age three, I was followed pretty closely until released at age six. Because of the heart issues, my baby teeth needed dental work. My body was not my friend. I didn’t like failing and I didn’t like sports. I was competitive and felt that I couldn’t compete. Instead, I found solitary activities. I collected frogs from the garden and released them again. I rode my bike up and down hills in nearby grassy lots. I took books and snacks to make nests in tall summer grass. I liked badminton, swings and climbing trees.

I especially liked reading books and having them turn into movies in my head and feeling like I was living them. I had adventures and experiences. I was competitive intellectually and academically. I could plot and I could plan. All this was so good in so many ways, but helped set up the disconnect between ME and my body which was always disappointing or failing me.

Family · Health · Memory · Personal

Broken Heart

I was born with a broken heart and everyone knew it. I was too small for surgery. I had to wait. While I was waiting, I had to be quiet and careful. I had to be small when I wanted to be big.

I wanted to do everything. I wanted to feel everything. I wanted to know everything. I also wanted love. I also wanted approval. I tried to do as I was told and, when I did, I got love and approval. Doing what other people wanted, gave me love and approval. This was experience not reasoning. Call it conditioning.

My world was small, but I had my imagination and then I learned to read and I HAD BOOKS. And my heart was mended. But quiet and careful were already habits for me as expected by everyone.

Books & Reviews · Writing

My Style Memoir

I think I’ve found my memoir style. Essentially, writing topical essays and then arranging them in topical and chronilogical order.

I’ve read and listened to many memoirs over the last 5-10 years. The change started slowly with reading biographies and autobiographies. Then I started listening to memoirs as audiobooks. I actually read STEVE JOBS by Walter Isaacson and loved it. I also loved the story behind it: Jobs knew he was dying. His wife convinced him to allow full access and give up control of the narrative because this might be the only way for his young children to truly know him.

These are some of my recent favorites: Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing by Matthew Perry / I Miss You When I Blink: Essays by Mary Laura Philpott / Bomb Shelter: Love, Time, and Other Explosives by Mary Laura Philpott / This Is What America Looks Like: My Journey from Refugee to Congresswoman by Ilhan Omar / In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction by Gabor Mate, MD / When the Body Says No by Gabor Mate, MD / The Boys: A Memoir of Hollywood and Family by Ron Howard, Clint Howard, Bryce Dallas Howard (Foreword) / Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within by Natalie Goldberg / Cat Daddy: What the World’s Most Incorrigible Cat Taught Me About Life, Love, and Coming Clean by Jackson Galaxy, Joel Derfner

I’ve continued to journal, but I’ve been trying to expand that by writing down what I remember of my dreams, ideas, snippets of a sentence or story, and various observations of the world around me. And, as noted above in my MISSION STATEMENT, I am blogging again.