My
earliest memory is of a green and white checkerboard pattern of linoleum tiles
on the kitchen floor in Minneapolis, where I lived until I was two years old. I
have remembered that design so often throughout my life that I’m sure it is
entirely false.
Every
time we remember something, we change it. Memories are photocopies of
photocopies of photocopies, all the way back to the first sighting, which we
would no longer recognize if we came across it in a magazine.
This
flaw of memory is especially acute for us writers, who constantly edit and
rewrite, and who at heart believe that a good imagination is far more important
than an accurate memory.
For
the past three years, I have been writing personal essays for Black Lamb, a distinguished literary
magazine published monthly in Cupertino, California. Most of my essays have
been memoir pieces, recalling and recounting joys and sorrows, my triumphs and
mistakes.
Sometime
in the year 2013 I plan to collect a bunch of these memoir pieces and
self-publish them in a limited edition, primarily for family and friends. Some
of my intended audience will remember some of the same events I describe. Some
may, therefore, be tempted to correct my memories for the sake of historical
accuracy. To them I will say:
What you’re about to read are the
personal and family memories and in some cases fanciful imaginings of a fiction
writer. For those of you who were there when any of this happened, please do
not feel compelled to correct my memories. I already know they’re inaccurate—just
as yours are.
As for historical accuracy, who cares?
Nobody’s going to take my word for all this. I just made sure of that. And who
cares what the floor in the Minneapolis kitchen looked like?
Note: For quite
some time now I have been posting pieces on this blog almost every week. I’m
starting to find that a difficult schedule to stick to. I do enjoy writing this
blog, and I enjoy connecting in this surreal way with a bunch of friends, many
of whom I’ve never met in person. But starting now and until I change my mind
again, I’m going to post less frequently. I think that means approximately once
a month.
Working with people doing genealogy and hearing various renditions of family legends I have to agree with you--memory is a slippery slope and not entirely trustworthy.
ReplyDeleteI'm not entirely sure that where memory is concerned regarding certain pieces and topics that we need to remember perfectly. The sense of nostalgia is the hook that makes the reader think about his or her own tiled floor, metaphorically speaking. Thanks for the memories.
ReplyDeleteJohn, I agree: memory is a slippery slope indeed. And you're right, Theresa, nostalgia is the hook.
ReplyDeleteMy memory is tarnished by old moving pictures my parents took of me as a kid--in some cases the movie has replaced my actual memory, but sometimes the movie kickstarted another memore.
ReplyDeleteI have a box of old photos. There are pictures of my parents when they were dating, pictures of me from baby on, etc. Whenever I open the box and start looking through the photos, I "remember" the various scenes and yet, in the early ones, there's no way I could remember. I think that's imagination at work!
ReplyDeletePatricia, I have a box of photos just like yours, and I use them to find stories too. Marilyn, I don't have old movies to look at, but I know they must be great inspiration for your writing. And I bet you were quite the child star!
ReplyDeleteBlogging does eat up a lot of time, I've noticed.
ReplyDeleteWilliam Doonan
I agree, Bill. By the way, I'm in the middle of GRAVE PASSAGE, and I'm loving it!
DeleteOnce a month? I can't say I blame you, John, I blog on five sites and it takes up too much of my writing time. But which ones to eliminate? As for memories, my earliest ones are crawling in the grass and leaning out of my crib to grab a new pair of patent leather Mary Jane shoes from the dresser that my mother bought me. I've had a shoe fetish every since. :)
ReplyDeleteJean, I wonder if your shoe fetish was formed by that first pair of patent leather Mary James, or whether you still have that memory because you like shoes so much!
DeleteI'm writing another memoir -- or rather, I'm back to it after leaving it undone while I went to graduate school during part of the last decade to get an MFA. Your comments on memory are well taken. This is discussed in all the memoir writing workshops I run, and I'm thinking of William Zinsser's "Inventing the Truth" and the comments Russell Baker, Annie Dillard, Alfred Kazin, etc. make in the talks in this collection. As for blogging, I can barely keep up with all of them and would LOVE it if everyone cut back to once a month!
ReplyDelete