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.

Why I Write, by Bonnie Mansell

I write to remember, to communicate, and to understand. This blog is called, “Write to Remember Your Stories” because I have found writing to be the best tool I have for accessing memories which seem to have long-ago disappeared. I don’t have a razor-sharp memory. I am always so impressed when someone starts talking about something that happened (whether it was yesterday or 50 years ago) and they can remember details which I probably would not have observed in the first place.

This lack of observation can be embarrassing, especially because I am supposed to be teaching others how to write. So sometimes I sit down with a blank sheet of paper and start writing bits and pieces of disconnected thoughts about a person, a place, or a time in my life. Though I’ve been doing this for ever-so-long, I still lack the confidence that it will come together in a clear story or memory. And, to be honest, it doesn’t always work. But when it does I am still startled by the realization that I remember far more than I thought I could. A word, a name, a color or a fragrance will come drifting back to me, and I know that all is not lost.

I also write to communicate what I have observed about the world. I am like the photographer who takes pictures, not only because the subject of the photograph is beautiful or interesting, but also because she wants to show this beauty to her world: “Look! Isn’t this amazing? Come look at this!” Few of my thoughts are particularly original or creative. I’ve simply noticed something – a breathtaking panorama, broken people making devastating choices, teenagers holding hands in a circle of prayer, or powerfully written-words on a page. I feel compelled to show this to someone, hoping they will see what I have seen: the beauty, the sadness, or the connection with a larger truth. This is certainly the link between my passion for writing and my enthusiasm for teaching.


Finally, but probably most often, I write to understand. Writing helps me clarify my thoughts about a book, a sermon, or a set of circumstances. I write to figure out what is true, what makes sense and what doesn’t. I write to discover what I know or need to know. I write out prayers and scripture verses. I’ll never reach full understanding of many of the things I struggle with, but thinking hard enough to squeeze the thoughts out of my brain, through my fingers, and onto the page, trying to form some sort of coherence on paper, forces me to discern between emotions and truth. Writing helps me to keep a “big picture” perspective on life. In fact, it was the desire to understand my own reason for writing that motivated me to attempt this post. It is woefully inadequate, but the act of writing it out has helped me to get a better grasp on why I write.

Why We Write, By Noemi S. Rabina

After watching on TV the events that took place during WW II in the Philippines under Japan, 1941-1945, my four sisters and I started our unending recollections of our experiences. We decided to put them in writing to let our children and grandchildren know how we survived the war. The place we called our home was in Laguna. Pictures alone can not reveal our feelings, emotions, love and joy with the people that crossed our way.

We write about the beautiful place that God has created for us to enjoy. The mountain high, the rolling hills and forests that we have traveled, the flowing river, the spacious sky and the heavenly bodies that slowly traveled across the firmament before our eyes. We write about the fragrance of the orange blossoms and gardenia that surrounded us, the rainbow colors of flowers in the garden and those that decked our pathway, the orchids that hang on the branches of trees. We write about our friends, their love for us and their hospitality.

We write about the circumstance that brought our family to live close together, our fears, our work and play, our travel on foot for one hour to go to church and worship with Christian friends in town. We write about our fellowship with the young people, our laughter, our love for each one like brothers and sisters.

We write about the young men who tried to win my sisters’ hands. In those days, romance was just looking at each other, no holding hands, no kissing, and no dating. We write about the way young men woo their beloved by serenading at night, usually when the moon is bright. The one they named in their song would open the window to thank them.

We write about the industry that we have learned; such as weaving mats, bags and hats which were an added source of income. We write about the little business that my mother started, baking native cakes that we sold to the village folks. We write about our poultry. We write about the fish traps that my father set by the river bank. We write about the mini school that my sister started with the pre-school children who learned ABC.

We write about our Japanese friends who have been nice to us and taught us their language and songs. We write about the “Bamboo Army” to protect us from invaders and the “radio taizo” to keep us physically strong. They gave us products from Japan and we gave them fruits from our trees and garden.

These memories of struggle for survival during the Japanese occupation led me to write our experiences. Once started, ideas kept flowing. I am an inexperience writer and what comes to mind, I write. Going to a Memoir Class helped me a lot.

Why Do I Write?, By Yolanda Adele

I’m the historian of my life. Writing is the vehicle I take to journey within myself. When I write in the quiet of the night it is as though I’m having a conversation with my soul. That is when my writing flows. I don’t worry about grammar or syntax when I’m in this level of self-discovery.



I think it was Thornton Wilder (Our Town) who said, “In writing, working is in clay not marble.” This may be why I have learned to make peace with my past and to embrace who I’m today. I continually uncover jewels of special moments that enrich my life and give it meaning.


Bonnie Mansel, our writing coach, once asked our class to write our own epitaph as a writing exercise. This writing assignment left me with a liberating feeling of empowerment, knowing that I had the last words about my essence and what was important to me. It reminded me of a curious fact about our 3rd president, Thomas Jefferson: He wrote his own epitaph and chose not to mention that he had been president of the Untied States. It did not matter to him what others might have wanted said about him. It was his life, his death, and he had it his way.


One day my granddaughter, Jaime, asked a question that I had never asked of myself, “Nana why do you write?” To my surprise I answered without hesitation, “So someday you may know me better.” There it was, in a heartbeat, the answer was as clear as the sky above us. My writing is my legacy to my precious grandchildren: Jaime, Brandon, Moises, Hannah, Caleb, and Sarah.

"WHY I WRITE" by Kacie Cooper

Kacie! You are so boring! That's what I used to tell myself before I got heavy into writing my memoirs. I've learned I can be quite funny at times and very interesting at others. In America we have a God-given-right-to-write. So why not take advantage of that gift? It's inexpensive and rewarding in so many ways.

Why did we go to the moon? Because it was there? To prove that we could do it? To feel better about ourselves? I'm really not sure, but for me, like wanting to go to the moon, there was always an eminent need to be heard. That's really why I write. I've even learned to get rid of that critic in my head. It has been so liberating.

I've tried my hand at writing stand-up comedy and performing it. Performing it is easy; the writing has always been more of a challenge. But I like that. Like the old saying goes: “no pain, no gain.” But when I receive that first hint of laughter from the audience, I am instantly in heaven. What a high! Not many things compare. And I am responsible for all that; little ole me.

Carly Simon used to sing, "These are the Good Old Days." Through writing I've come to appreciate each new day and that "these days" are truly the "Good Old Days."
If I don't tell my own story... then who will? Ultimately I write my memoirs in an attempt to explain to my descendants the reason for my insanity. To hold their interest I insert humor. But first, I guess because of my ego, I write for me because I feel strongly about so many issues in life: racial equality, man’s inhumanity to man, etc. I want my opinion to be heard and it doesn't necessarily have to be read by others to be beneficial. Just knowing that I have it in print where I can go back and study it to see just exactly how I feel about it is very liberating.
I believe we all have an innate need to be heard. Even cavemen and women wrote on the cave walls. Perhaps we write because we know that not all of us can go to the moon. Maybe we want to move people, make them feel like they've been to the moon and back.

At first I just wanted to be heard, since as a child I didn't always feel that I was. Then when I felt I was being listened to I moved on to writing something that included a moral or something that could elicit emotion in the reader. That was my new quest. Now I continue that journey in my written word.

Through my writing I find peace, purpose, promise and enjoyment. Also it's the cheapest hobby I know. Hopefully when my great, great Grandchildren read my memoirs, they will come to the punch lines and laugh; and hopefully not get up and walk out.