The photo are my parents, Anne and Richard, going to the prom in 1963. All of the photos in the memoir are black and white, so here is an opportunity to see them in color.
Writing a memoir is like an impressionist painting. It starts as a vague notion, a blurry-eyed picture of a solitary memory. These edges of memory tend be firm, recognizable, the clothes, the affect, the sunlight or darkness. Then the levees break, and you suddenly understand the significance of color and texture of memory. I like the word texture because it compliments all of our senses. There is texture abound when writing a memoir.
I never thought I would write a memoir, because I tend to be a private person, and memoir is often excruciatingly intimate. I had to evolve to write my mother's story. I had to confidently capture her beauty and her pain. What I find most difficult is I will never truly know her intimately. I was fifteen when she died. Her courage was quiet, and I wanted to celebrate it.
I was a public educator for twenty-five years, teaching reading and writing. I had over 3,000 students, and I was fortunate enough to work with many talented young writers. They bought into the mantra: practice, practice, practice. I had to practice patience with this short memoir. It took eight years to develop into something worthy. Obviously, I am hoping you buy the book and enjoy it as a portrait of a woman who exemplified faith and persistence. It was a labor of love and commitment.