Z is for “Zest,” By Betty Mitchell

We come to the end of our ABC series with this very short offering from Betty Mitchell. Miss you, Betty!

~ Bonnie

 I have been given the privilege of writing about the letter Z. What comes to mind is the zest everyone puts into their writing. Some write zany things, and some write with a little zip. Sometimes I feel like I am in a zoo. I find it a lot of fun taking a journey into the memory zone with these interesting people.

Y is for the “Young at Heart Years,” By Dora Silvers

Here is a treat from Dora, who is truly young at heart. 

          Yesterday, in our Thursday “Memoir Writing” class, there was yet another yarn told to us about an interesting vacation. It was about trip to Yellowstone, where Mary also camped as a youngster of ten. Now as a grandmother, she brought her two young grandchildren of eight and ten to Yellowstone National Park, the oldest and largest park in the United States.

        Last week another classmate read a story of his vacation in Yosemite National Park, which is located in central California. There were a few young sequoia trees among the large and old trees. Some are 27 feet in diameter and 3,000 years old.

        Another classmate attended Brigham Young University when he lived in Utah. He told tales of his youth during his college days at this interesting school.

        Yes, we enjoy all the yarns of adventure and interesting places that were visited during our classmates’ younger years. Now they are sharing their memories with the younger generation.

X is for “My Memoir Class X-Ray,” By Lewis Hildreth

Ah, Lewis! This fun piece is so typical of your attitude towards life, the class and writing. We miss you.

X marks the spot here at Norwalk Senior Center where, of a Thursday afternoon at approximately 2:00 p.m., students drift into the classroom to form a body of students with a few Madam X’s and Mr. X’s scattered throughout. We are not here to play X’s and O’s, though that may happen too, but to discern what the X unknown is in our respective lives. Yet we will not be accused of X-chasing, for we are here to celebrate our lives in a veritable Xanadu of pleasurable expression, made safe by the King’s X that says that “what takes place in the classroom, stays in the classroom.”

We do not suffer from xenophobia (fear of strangers), nor do we labor under a xenocracy (ruled by foreigners). Indeed, we may be xenophiles (we like foreigners), verging on xenomania (an insane fancy for strangers). After the gasps and denials subside, I do believe I can say that we are usually xenodochial (hospitable).

I know in my case that I could be accused of xenoglossia (the faculty of using intelligibly a language one has not learned) because I am still learning English. I have come to love to read books. I read whenever I get a spare moment. I read the dictionary. I read the phone book. I read junk mail. I read and read. I would read xylographic books (books printed from engraved wood blocks) if I had them, and I would read engraved wooden blocks, not caring if I were accused of xylophory (wood carrying).

It is probably in our X chromosomes, the strange bibliophilic gene that causes us to read and write. I can only repeat that X marks the spot here at the Norwalk Senior Center.

W is for “Welcome to Writing,” By Jeanne Seldon

Jeanne was only able to be a part of our class for a short time, but her presence was definitely “welcome.” If you go back to the very beginning of this ABC story list, you will find that Jeanne wrote our delightful introduction.  Re-read that post here: ABC's

What this senior writing class has meant to me is a wonderful opportunity to write. I first wandered into the class in May, 2006, to deliver a birthday present to my stepmother, Barbara, who had given me directions where to find her at the Norwalk Senior Center between 2 p.m. and 4 p.m. on Thursdays. The location was on my way to pick up my husband from work at the nearby mental hospital. When I arrived, the class was enjoying their break by celebrating a birthday with cake and friendly laughter. I was warmly welcomed by class members and the teacher, Bonnie Mansell, who, without waiting, immediately invited me to join the class.

WOW! I was a little worried that it might not work out for me, since I had always wanted to write about important memories, but I somehow never wound up finding the time to write. I had retired from teaching the previous year, but still had not written a single word. My friends think I am a little weird because I love to write and they would rather just read. “What have I got to lose?” I thought. “Why not?” This is my chance to work writing into my schedule. I went back to class the next week and I have returned almost every week thereafter.

What I discovered in this writing class was a worldly group of wise and witty writers, who willingly share their written work without worry as they weave the important experiences of their lives into wonderful words, worthy of preserving for future generations. When I write pieces for class, I wonder whether my writing seems too woeful or wistful, too wacky or wild, too wordy or wishy-washy, or maybe just my worst writing ever. Yet, my efforts are always welcomed by the other wonderful writers in the class as worthwhile and well-done.

Writing has become a good habit in my life now, and I find myself wondering what will be my next topic. I welcome the weekly opportunity to write with feedback from the class, and I just wish I had more time to write. I want to thank the other writers in the group for their warm welcome to class. I can’t wait to write more next week! This class is WONDERFUL!

V is for “A Valued Class of Vintage Memoirists,” By Randy Brandemihl

Just a week or so ago I posted “T is for Teachers,” by Judy Brandemihl. Today I post a very short piece by her husband, Randy, who was an active member of our group for many years. After Judy’s illness and passing Randy’s own health issues became more apparent and it was only about a year later that he followed her in that path that leads from this life. I am blessed to have known this couple, who added to my life, as well as to our group. And it is an encouragement to realize that the “vivacious” members of our class were able to help Judy and Randy to savor their “vintage” years.

My senior memoir class is a very special group of people. The variety of their vivid backgrounds is one of the very things that make them valuable. Their vintage years and vivacious friendship is the very thing that binds us all together.

In the very beginning, we all came here seeking a variety of pleasurable pastimes, such as humor, knowledge, companionship and, of course, memoir writing.

Of that goal I feel, without a doubt, that we have all vanquished a darkness and found a very fine and victorious bright day.

Viva la Vida!!!

U is for “Unreeling the Unseen,” By Evelyn Watson

Many of the stories in this ABC series have established that sharing our experiences in a group of sympathetic listeners is just as important as writing the stories in the first place. I think that Evelyn has demonstrated one of the key factors in such a group. Without a willingness to be vulnerable, no such sharing could take place.

          Walking into the memoirs class several years ago was somewhat of an unmasking of myself. Writing my stories was one thing, but reading them aloud was like undressing, and I felt vulnerable. However, I soon found that the unique part of this particular group was that they were united as if bound together by an umbilical cord in their understanding and inexpressible kindness towards one another. This group is unequal to most groups because of their unusual unity and encouragement.

        I began to feel the umbrella of friendship and kinship with others who were unearthing the events of their lives just as I was, who were undressing themselves emotionally the same as I, and who were unlocking the unseen stories their lives had journeyed.

        Our teacher, Bonnie, has shown us ways to write our stories not in the usual way of beginning at the beginning, but by writing little snippets to make up the story of our life, since our lives are many stories contained in one. She has inspired us with ideals to help us find the unborn stories within, always urging us to write whatever we find.

This class has been an ultimate experience for me. Never could I have known what awaited me when I walked into the unreeling of my unseen stories.

T is for “Teachers,” By Judy Brandemihl

2010 was a difficult year for our memoir class. One of several losses we experienced was the passing of our dear friend, Judy Brandemihl. So it is with some tenderness that I share this story today. Judy had some true insights into what makes this class special. I have often said that I learn more from my students than they could ever learn from me. Judy nailed it when she said “we are all teaching each other.”

I’ve led a fortunate life. It’s been packed with teachers from the beginning. Not all the teachers have been the kind you’d find in school. Many have been what I think of as “life’s teachers.” My parents and grandparents were the first, and I could write volumes about everything I learned from them. And there were siblings, playmates and classmates. Not everything they taught me was good, but they were my teachers just the same.

Well, I’ve had some terrific teachers along the way and I remember some bad ones, but hopefully, by the time I ran into them I was wise enough to know the difference.

Now I’m in my “golden years” and I know there’s still more to learn and here in our memoir class I’ve found not one teacher, but a room full of them. Yes, we have one designated teacher and a terrific one she is. With amazing patience she’s taught us to pull our memories from our subconscious and to capture them on paper for our children, or grandchildren and, with luck, our great-greats. What a thrill it would be to pick up a book, a treasury of stories written by your distant ancestor and to read about his or her life, all written in their own words. And if our descendents gain some kernel of knowledge or bit of strength from the tapestry of our lives, then we, too, will have become teachers, reaching out across time to pass on the treasure of wisdom.

In the meantime, we have the luxury of remembering and through our remembering, reliving our lives as well as those our fellow students. If our tales, some tender and some touchy, are lightly sprinkled with a tad of taradiddle, so be it.

We are all teaching each other. Each time we hear a story we learn what it was like to grow up in foreign lands, in different cultures, different neighborhoods, or only two streets over in a house like ours. Each life is different; the values taught by our parents were unlike those of the family a mile away. Our religions are varied and sometimes absent, and for some of us our native language was even different. But, in spite of this, we tarry here, in the same room, openly telling each other stories that reveal so much. Each one is a window into another’s past, into the life of yet a new teacher.

S is for “Sanctuary,” By Yolanda Adele

This is such a great follow-up to Jacqui’s “Road” reflection! When you decide to stop by the “house on the side of the road,” you need to find some sanctuary. Here is Yolanda’s thoughtful and inspiring story.

Synonymous with our memoir group is “sanctuary” because our memoir group is a safe place, where we openly share ourselves: the good, the bad, and the ugly, knowing full well that we will be listened to with respect and without judgments. A memoir class is truly a treasure because it is conducive for letting each person’s uniqueness flourish. We give labor and birth to our memoirs in our “sanctuary” place before we even share them with our families.

Our writing coach, Bonnie Mansell, has taught us that we have the power to leave a legacy through our memoirs. I know this to be true personally. A dear friend of mine, Eve, told me that she had finally found her own voice by coming to memoir class. She had suffered a lot of abuse in her childhood and most of her adult life. She had also found happiness in the arrival of her first grandchild. She felt the need to express and make sense of all that had happened to her.

She finally did that when she began to write her story, to have her say within the walls of our writing sanctuary. She became one of the most prolific writers in our group, but more importantly she became a happier person. Her stories reflected that. She began to write delightful stories for her new grandbaby.

I’m very grateful that Eve had the sanctuary of our memoir group before she died in 2003 at the age of 59. I have taken this opportunity to write this in her behalf. I know that she would have wanted me to do so.

R is for “Road,” By Jacqueline Smith

Where has your road taken you lately? Has it been a bit rough from time to time? Maybe you could use a little break, a stop in “The House by the Side of the Road.” Here is Jacqui’s reflection on the strength to be gained by deliberately spending time in the shelter of community. When you finish her story, take a moment to read the link to the poem by Sam Walter Foss. ~ Bonnie

The road I travel is usually smooth and rather pleasant but lately there have been too many stones causing my journey to become a bit bumpy. In my weariness I have been fortunate enough to find a place where I can rest my soul, a safe harbor where I enjoy the company of some very delightful traveling companions whose stories help me to see the world in a different light.

As we share our memories we are awakened to a greater understanding of the many roads that life has to offer and even when we realize that each of us has left our own special trails behind, somehow God has allowed our paths to meet. Each of us has grown and shall continue to grow as we listen and learn from one another.

Since I love libraries and books, my mind allows me to view these precious people as if they were a rare collection of very valuable and priceless books. Each one is filled with childhood memories, incredible adventure, joys, sorrows, humor and much more. They are a part of my private collection.

I love this class! We travelers laugh together, weep together and just have a great time in this wonderful part of our journey. As we move onward the road grows wider to welcome new travelers because the road of life was never meant to be traveled alone.

My spirit is always lifted when I remember this is the day for me to go to my memoir class, where I know there will be a welcoming hug, a kind word, a gentle touch and rest for my weary soul. This is indeed my refuge, my safe harbor where I can dock and find only goodness.

Bonnie, with her caring smile and her tender heart, sits at the helm and kindness reigns. She is a leader, a gentle and wise woman, and a lover of people. She is the captain of this ship and no one could ever take her place for she is indeed “irreplaceable.” This is much more than a class where students can learn; this is a place where hearts are connected and strangers become family.

I am truly thankful for the opportunity to walk this road with such an amazing group of fellow travelers.

To Read Foss’s poem, click here:

The House by the Side of the Road

Q is for “Quotas,” “Quotes,” and “Quality,” By Mina Anne Chudilowsky

Now here is a fun story for your pleasure. How many words can you think of that start with the letter “Q”? I think Mina Anne may just have you beat! What an imaginative way to tell a story. . . read on –

          One day after book club Judy posed a question to me: how would I like to join the memoirs group to which she belonged? She said, and I quote, “(I) would be an asset to the group,” (unquote). But really, it was because the quantity of the group had receded and new members were needed.

        I was in a quandary. I had no one for whom to write memoirs and I didn’t think that I had that much about which to write. And it was questionable that I would be an asset to the group. The quality of the group, and the stories read, I discovered, was high.

        Some people were very quick. Jacque wrote her “City of Regret,” in fifteen minutes before class, and Loie wrote a story in class and read it that same day. Some stories are quaint and some are quirky. Some are about quiet reflections, and some show the author’s quick wit. While one may be about a personal quest, another may be about quilting. Another good topic is about quitting. Some stories are written with quotes and personal quotations. Queries may follow the stories.

        Some stories leave you with a quizzical look on your face, while others may provoke a quip from Don, who is quite a quipster. Some authors come close to quarreling about their topic, but no one seems quick tempered.

        There is no quota for stories to write, though many people write quite a few. Some even seem to be a quire long.

        Sometimes Bonnie, our qualified instructor, will give us questionnaires to quicken our brains. We are here to flex our brains, not our quadriceps. Sometimes this feels like a quiz and you quiver, quake and quail when you can’t come up with a quick, qualified answer to the questions. You look around and see quizzical, queasy looks on other people’s faces.

        A new member may quaver, quiver and quake with nervousness and be qualmish about presenting his/her first story; His/her heart may even quicken, but the group quickly quashes this with their unquestionable acceptance of the person.

        If you get blocked, don’t quit and give up. Find a quiet place, a place of quietude, and maybe even look up a quintessential story to stimulate your imagination. You’re not the only one to encounter a block; get in the queue with the rest of us.

        At the center, we sit around quadrilateral tables. During the summer months, the center provides ice water to quash, or quench, our thirst. You can even quaff a quart if you’re quenchless, without question.

        If you come in with qualms, the group puts you at ease and makes you feel welcome. Soon you become a qualified member of the group, and you help meet the quota.

P is for a “Perfect Production,” By Virginian (Ginger) Lane

          The Norwalk Senior Center offers a class in learning to write memoirs. It is a priceless stimulant for the seniors’ minds. This class gives the intellectual challenge to prod students’ memories, keeping them keep alert, and possibly preventing or forestalling dementia and Alzheimer’s. In addition, these elders of our community can leave behind a present, a history of their lives and times for their families.

The class is a stimulant to thinking and it prods older people to get started, find purpose, and complete a product that anyone would be pleased to peruse. Every class is priceless as we all share our products and trigger memories in each other. Some of our pieces are funny; some are informative; some are touching or sad. All are deserving of the praise that the students pour out on each others’ finished products.  The class supports the members with the encouragement that keeps students writing their histories for their families. Many seniors would not finish writing their memoirs without continuing to attend this program. In addition, the class is one of the few at the Center that offers intellectual content, yet has a practical purpose. The class offers seniors the practice in writing and thinking that pushes them to perform. Most of the people would procrastinate without this peerless class prompting them. It got me started, and now I am writing prolifically.

        Our teacher is always prepared, providing us material that is priceless. Her lectures are informative and interesting, yet she allows plenty of time for the people to present their own productions. The teacher has a pertinent background and education for teaching memoir writing. Her unique perceptions are prized by class members. In addition, the instructor creates a pleasant atmosphere that allows people to feel relaxed and comfortable in their own performances. All together, her talents and education make the perfect combination for a memoirs program.

O is for "Ordinary People," by Betty Mitchell

This is another story by a former student. We miss Betty and hope she will come back to visit us soon. She was a great addition to our class and wrote many good stories, including her own ABC book about her life.

When I first joined this memoir class I didn’t have a clue about how to put my memories down on paper. They were so ordinary. After hearing some of the stories others wrote, I found out that what I had to say could be of interest to my family, particularly to my grandchildren. Now the task begins. With the help of others I received the confidence in myself to take pen in hand and start writing. Remembering some of the things that happened in what I thought as an ordinary period of my life brought back an outpouring of other memories, some happy and some not so happy. I’m still learning and getting braver in my writing. I am so thankful for all of these ordinary people I have met in this class.

N is for “New Friendships,” By Nora Scechy

Nora joined our class several years ago and we all were blessed by her presence. Although she calls herself a "rookie," she is an established writer, having completed and published her life story, a memorable and delightfully readable book which you can see here:   Nora's Website

Nora is not currently attending class, but we still consider her very much a part of our group.

“He alone has lost the art to live who cannot win new friends.”

S. Weir Mitchell

When I signed up for a memoir writing class, I had no idea this was an ongoing class which had begun several years ago. I had some weird misconception that I would be joining a bunch of rookies like myself. This said, I soon realized that I was in the company of a friendly and intelligent group of writers under the guidance of a dedicated and encouraging instructor, Ms. Bonnie Mansell. Looking around the room, I was happy to recognize two familiar faces: Margaret Takacs, a dear Hungarian lady I have known for many years, and Shirley Mark, who volunteers with me at Downey City Library.

I liked the arrangement of the long tables, which gave plenty of room to spread out books and papers; and I liked the fact that the students had in front of them their names printed in large letters on cardboard plaques. I was barely seated when Judy came over to me, introduced herself, and supplied me with helpful handouts and notes from previous classes. At break time, Ray showed me where to get coffee, tea, or a cold drink (supplied free of charge), and he showed me where the restrooms were. Kacie invited me to play a board game with her. Everyone in this group showed me unexpected kindness.

We were given a class assignment to write “A Movie of My Life.” As each story was read, the class listened attentively. They clapped at the end, asked questions and made encouraging and sometimes humorous comments. When it came to my turn, I was nervous about reading aloud for the first time. I was soon put at ease when, at the end of my story, the class smiled and clapped, and Ms. Mansell commented that she thought I would be an asset to the group.

After only a few weeks, I feel quite at home and accepted by these talented and kindly seniors. I have made new friends and realize that I have not lost “the art to live.”

E is for “Enlighten,” By Janet Utermohlen

 

I know that “E” is out of our alphabetical order, but I have reason to post this particular story by Janet. Janet was part of a memoir-writing group that I facilitated for about six years in La Mirada. Sadly, that class was cut several years ago when the California budget crunch forced Cerritos to cut a number of classes (a situation Janet dreaded). I learned yesterday that Janet had passed away last month. I was, of course, saddened to hear that news.

            There was, however, some encouragement tucked into the delivery of that sad news. It turns out that Janet spent her last days in the care of a Korean woman – a woman with many stories to tell. During their days together the caregiver shared her stories with Janet, telling her about triumphs and tragedies in her own life. She knew that her stories were important, but never thought about writing them down. Janet persuaded her to take time to put her stories on paper. She has now begun that project, “enlightened” by Janet’s example.  ~ Bonnie

        I am 85 years old and in good health. By living this long, I have many stories to tell, but I really did not know how to get them down on paper. By attending this class, “Memoir Writing for Older Adults,” I have learned simple ideas to enlighten my memories, and I have written four essays brought about by what I have learned. This has given me great pleasure.

        By coming to class and fulfilling the assignments, I have become centered, and I can start and continue writing my memories. I have felt very enlightened by this class, and have enjoyed listening and learning from all the members who attend.

        I would be devastated if it were to be discontinued.

        The letter I was assigned is the letter “E.” The word I picked to use in this essay is “enlightened,” so I feel this class has enlightened my mind and gives me, Janet Utermohlen, a purpose in life, which I have been unable to perform until now.

M is for our “Memoir Group,” By Yolanda Adele

When I walk into our memoir group on Thursday afternoons I often feel as if I have “come home.” This sense of belonging together, regardless of our differences, is part of what frees us to create our best work. Thank you, Yolanda, for expressing our hearts in your words. ~ Bonnie

Our memoir group is a treasure. I once read that there are families that we are born into, and there are families that are formed in the heart. The latter is what many find in our memoir group. Through sharing our stories, we have formed friendships that are based on trust and acceptance. There are few places in this fast-paced millennium where people can come together to be listened to with willing minds and hearts. We are able to do this because in the process of writing about our life experiences, we have learned to understand ourselves and others in the group. That understanding shows us how we are all connected by our humanness, regardless of our background, economic status, or religious affiliation.

Our group’s leader, Bonnie Mansell, is a profoundly caring, insightful teacher. Bonnie teaches her students that they can have a trove of personal, historical legacy to share what may be otherwise lost.

Our memoir group is a treasure for those who know the true wealth stored up in life stories.

L is for “Love,” By Margaret Takacs

Although this story has already been posted, I want to repeat it this week in its alphabetical sequence. I posted the story on May 9, shortly after Margaret ended her journey in this life. Once again, I am humbled to have had such a friend. I hope that those who read Margaret's story will have an inkling of what a special person she was. Her life was so much harder than most, yet she approached each day with an attitude of gratitude, modeling her values through her actions, as well as her words. I am blessed to have known her.  ~ Bonnie 

“L” is the beginning letter of the most powerful world of our dictionary. It covers a multitude of emotions, which can trigger a multitude of events from history and from individual lives.

“Love is a Many Splendored Thing;” so says a lovely old song I have heard my daughter Kathy sing so many times. It can take many forms: love of family, friends, cherished pets, plants, favorite possessions, and foods – all the colorful mosaics of our lives. It surely has taken me to the pinnacle of happiness and to the depth of despair in my lifetime. Throughout the years, as my daughters heard (maybe too often) the stories of my life, they always encouraged me to put those stories down on paper. I don’t know what held me back: maybe procrastination, laziness or reluctance, not knowing how to reveal the tumult of my life.

Then in my retirement, when my physical disabilities started to affect the vitality of my life, came an unexpected pleasure I greatly value and enjoy today. Before that, one of my daughters, Judith, gave me a book to read and record the important events of my life. It touched my cord of resistance, and I thought it would be a lot easier this way. And then my other daughter, Kathleen, met by chance with Bonnie Mansell, and she sort of enlisted me in Bonnie’s memoir writing class, leaving me no more excuses.

Joining Bonnie’s memory writing class brought many pleasures into my life. Her sunny-spirited guidance overrides my occasional glum and my resistance to writing. We have a wonderful company of classmates who become friends while sharing each others stories ~ sometimes with tears of sorrow, sometimes with joy, sometimes with great humor and laughter. We value and enjoy the stories of each other’s lives.

In my writing class I find companionship sharing each other’s joys or sorrows or burdens, and in the process we rediscover that love is a many splendored thing, which can teach even my ninety-year-old heart to sing. Yes, love is truly a “many splendored thing.”

K is for Kindness, by Shirley Mark

It is especially poignant to read stories from our classmates who can no longer share our Thursday afternoons with us. This piece is a reminder of a very special friend. Shirly was one of my very first students when I began teaching memoirs in Downey. She stayed with me when the Downey class was closed and participated in our Norwalk group for many years. Although she can no longer be with us in class, we remember her with love and gratitude. ~ Bonnie

Kindness – the quality or state of being kind; good will; graciousness; kindhearted.

        All of the above reflect the kindness I have felt in the Downey writing class and in this one in Norwalk. How fortunate I was – how fortunate I am.

        Last week I went into my son’s old room, which is now used for anything and everything, looking for a photo. Going through papers, scrap book pages, etc., I found a letter from a Downey student expressing how much she enjoyed hearing about my travels. Next to it was a photo of the class which had been given to me, “in friendship.”

That was and is typical of the kindness that begins with the instructor and filters through the excellent and kind students. Am I lucky to be a part of the warmth, friendliness and kindness of that class? You bet!!!

J is for “Jotting my Journey with Joy,” By Evelyn Watson

Isn't it funny how so many of us have a "secret" desire to write? It takes courage to give expression to that desire, but it brings so much reward. Are you letting fear keep you from taking the chance of putting your ideas down on paper? Take encouragement from Evelyn. ~ Bonnie

 

          I have always had a secret desire to write about my life. I doubt, though, I would ever have attempted doing so without the invitation of a friend to attend the Norwalk Senior Center memoirs class. Ironically, my friend who had persisted in getting me to come to class, stopped attending soon after I began.

        What a joy within my heart to actually be writing and to have the help, inspiration, ideals and encouragement I needed for jotting my journey by attending this class. What a joy to find compatibility among so many who are so diverse in their talents, ideals, and beliefs. Along with jotting my journey stories I’ve have the added bonus of getting acquainted and making friendships beyond time spent in class.

        Some class members are real journalists, while some jargonize their stories. Some are jiffy writers, having stories each week, while others spend time contemplating what they will write next. Some write about their jaunts, others about their jobs. Some write jingles, and some are jovial writers, but all write because they enjoy doing so.

        Every story reveals some part of who we are, and jogs memories from each of our memory banks to jot down for future stories. It takes courage to share some of our stories, exposing ourselves. Yet the acceptance among us helps us deal with issues we want or need to express. We voice our feelings and share our concerns as we join together in common bonds through our stories. We are companions for each other in writing our stories. For me, this is an important fulfillment.

        How thankful I am that my friend recognized in me the longing to write even though it wasn’t something she desired for herself. Just maybe she came upon this group because I was the one who was supposed to be here. And so the years spent attending this class have also become part of my life’s journey story. Could I not find joy in this class jotting my journey? And what a joy it is!

I is for Inspiration, by Lois Tannehill

One of the best things about our group of writers is that we are all inspired by other members of the class. We have come to appreciate the fact that we have all become better writers simply by being in the presence of others who share our struggle. Thanks, Loie, for expressing this so well. ~ Bonnie

          I have met so many lovely people in my memoirs class. We all get along and enjoy each other’s company. The people and their stories are so diverse. They make the class so interesting. I look forward to class at 2:00 p.m. on Thursdays.

        I get inspiration from most of them to write my stories. They help me recall my life experiences. Some of their stories bring me to tears; others bring smiles. Bonnie, our teacher, gives us ideas that jar our memories. There are several in class that should publish their stories because they are so good. The stories the individuals write are heartfelt.

        I am writing my life story for my children and my children’s children. I’m glad that Yolanda invited me to join the class several years ago.

G is for “Growth,” By Barbara Goodhue

One of the reasons I love this class so much is that it has helped me to grow as a person, as a writer, and as a teacher. Barbara reminds us that we must be seeking places that nourish our hearts and minds; and when we have found such a place, we need to come back for more. ~ Bonnie

This class has been a place for growth, generosity, goals and good times. It has motivated me to start writing some memoirs. However, I have a long way to go.

People love to be generous with their stories. Everyone has a good time trying to meet their goals. We all enjoy listening to the stories people write, which are very good and about a variety of places and experiences. I think I have grown by being able to write, and I am very grateful to all who have contributed to my growth by allowing me to listen to their stories. Sometimes I am envious of those who are so good at writing. Maybe with time I will grow and get better.