Last week I was visiting my grandson’s elementary school. I’m part of a program there in which parent volunteers read selected books to each class.  These children’s books feature stories that show the importance of kindness and the avoidance of bullying. Teachers and volunteers develop these concepts further by talking, throughout the school year, about filling each other’s imaginary buckets with acts of kindness. So, each child strives to have a bucketful of kindnesses collected by the end of each day.  Of course, this involves a lot of reciprocity. And, if someone is unkind to another student, it is as if they took a kindness OUT OF that child’s imaginary bucket. If they recognize this, they need to find a way to put a positive act back into the other’s “bucket.”

I think many of us go through the day on the receiving end of kindness as well as its many opposites … disappointment, indifference, and rejection, to name a few. As adults, most of us have learned to cope with the negative and to rejoice in the positive. School kids are not necessarily that resilient.  Nor are they usually skilled in looking for opportunities to help each other, to help “fill someone’s bucket.” We adults may have learned coping skills, but have we truly learned to productively receive and deliver kindnesses throughout the day?

As we approach Thanksgiving, I thought a good topic might be to reflect on the things we do or say to help fill each other’s buckets with kindness. And, to recognize the way that others put kindness into our own buckets, even though we may be slow to recognize all these ‘random acts of kindness.’  At my writer’s group this morning, one of the quieter members laughed and smiled as I read a droll piece I had written. She could have remained silent, but her laughter and smile was affirming to me, going the extra mile to put some kindness in my bucket. She made eye contact as I left the group, and thanked me personally for the banana bread I had brought. The members of our writing  group are routinely kind to each other, so this kindness I observed was  “no big deal.” But, as I think back over the morning, I see her kindness resting in my imaginary bucket. And, if something frustrates me or disappoints me later today, I’ll think back on this, and be grateful. I’m trying to not take all these acts of kindness for granted, but to really notice, appreciate, and “pay kindness forward” — finding a way to be kind to someone in my everyday life.

So, here is this month’s challenge:  What do you do to fill the buckets of others with acts of kindness?  What acts of kindness do others put in YOUR bucket. Do you take time to notice? Could you perhaps write these down at the end of each day, keeping a gratitude journal? Is there someone in your life who has been especially kind to you? Would you like to write an essay about this person?

Please submit what you come up with!

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Can you remember your first day of kindergarten?  First grade? Seventh grade?  Chances are that you can’t, but you can reconstruct a scene that “rings true” to what your life was like at that time.  Here’s an example from my own life (writing about seventh grade):

“Today was going to be the first day of school at rural Enon Junior High in rural Ohio. I would be in the seventh grade, and attending this school for the very first time. That’s because I had attended elementary school at a town in the other direction. Now, I was in effect switching towns. My mother had taken me shopping for two new dresses. This first day of school I was going to be wearing a deep turquoise blue dress with a sort of brown vest attached. I loved this dress, and it took some of the fear out of going to a school where I knew no one. I stood at the door of our house, watching for the school bus. I was clutching my new zip-up notebook. Inside, there was notebook paper as well as new pencils, pens, erasers, and a little container of Kleenex. As I saw the bus rounding the curve,  I caught my breath. “It’s coming!” I shouted. My dog, Mikey, sitting beside me, gave a little bark of concern. My mother ran toward me from the kitchen. “Go, go, go!” she said, as she held the door open.  As if seeing the anxiety that suddenly filled my eyes, she added, “Have a great time.  Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.”

This walk down memory lane is not award-winning prose.  I include it here simply to give you an idea of how you can work with your memory to produce a scene.  This scene represents that first day of seventh grade.  I don’t actually remember that morning, but I do remember the dress, the dog, and the place inside the door where I would watch for the school bus.

The point is to illustrate how we all have plenty of material stored away in our minds. We may be surprised to remember the picture on our lunchbox or the house key in our pocket.  And, of course, butterflies in the stomach! In writing memoir, time is well-spent in brainstorming with ourselves so that we can bring these memories to the forefront of our minds. Then, when we start to write, the words will just flow! And we’ll have a story whose unique details will enchant us as well as our readers!

Hope you will give this a try! The preliminary time you spend in brainstorming or “freewriting” (just writing what comes to mind) is bound to pay off in a rich list of “ingredients” you can stir into your memoir essay or chapter.

Please submit what you come up with!

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Photos of people at work or play are redolent with emotions and artifacts of the past. Candid shots include everyday surroundings — scenes and objects that elicit memories. A kitchen shot may include, for example, not only the expression on your aunt’s face, but the clock that fascinated you as a child — the one with dog paws for hands and a dog tail for the pendulum.

Examine your collection of photos closely. You may notice details that you overlooked in the past. A screen in the propped open window may remind you of mosquitoes which, in turn, may remind you of fireflies caught in a jar by you and your siblings on summer evenings. When you see the family car in the background of a photo, you may remember how your dog would ride with his nose poked out into the brisk air. And so forth.

This month, the challenge is to choose a photograph from your collection and think deeply about it. Look at it as if seeing it for the first time, and examine every little detail in the foreground and background. Be sensitive to all the details as well as to your emotional response. Then write some memories that emerge from viewing this photograph. You may later choose to preserve your paragraph or paragraphs WITH the photo, enhancing its value for all who see it in the future.

EXAMPLE: The following passage is is from the memoir, Truck: A Love Story by Michael Perry:

Introduction
The story begins on a pile of sheep manure the size of a yurt. Dad stacked it alongside the barn one winter, and I climbed it, a fact documented in a thirty-something-year-old photograph of a miniature me waving from the rounded peak, clearly thrilled to have summited the dung. My jacket is unzipped and the sun is bright, but the landscape is blank with snow, and the shading of the sky — bleached horizon rising to a zenith of cyanotic blue, and not a cloud to be seen — suggests the day was cold and deepens the green of the tall pines in the background. My hood is up, my pants are tucked inside rubber barn boots, and I am leaning on my sawed-off pitchfork as if it were an alpenstock. I am grinning like the hick spawn of the devil and Sir Edmund Hillary. (p. 1, Truck: A Love Story, Michael Perry, Harper Collins, 2006.)

Perry goes on to explain how his parents later spread all this manure on their fields, leaving this well-fertilized circle of earth, where the manure had been stored, as the location for Perry and his brother to plant their own little garden of corn and pumpkins. And, he then moves into a discussion of gardening in his current, adult life. He is one of many memoir writers from whom we can learn writing techniques.
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Many writers, at some time, will devote a paragraph or more to an idyllic season of their childhood, often summer. In her memoir, A Backward Glance, Edith Wharton alludes to an afternoon she spent with fellow novelist, Henry James. They were visiting the ruins of Bodiam in England, and observing a scene that included an ancient moat, water-lilies, and “great blue dragon-flies.”

Wharton continues, “James turned to me and said solemnly: ‘Summer afternoon — summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English Language.’” (p. 249)

Indeed, most of us have experienced summer beauty, even if just for a moment, an hour, or a day. Wharton titled her 1917 novella Summer.

The second paragraph begins as follows:

It was the beginning of a June afternoon. The springlike transparent sky shed a rain of silver sunshine on the roofs of the village, and on the pastures and larchwoods surrounding it. A little wind moved among the round white clouds on the shoulder of the hills, driving their shadow across the fields and down the grassy road that takes the name of street when it passes through North Dormer.  (p .159)

I decided to try my hand at writing about an idyllic summer memory and came up with the following. After taking a peek at this, please proceed to the page where others have submitted their written memories. And, let us hear from YOU!

Summer Days on Tecumseh Road

Joan Tornow

On summer days, we kids were free to roam the countryside – quite literally. We lived out in the country, in Ohio farmland. Although surrounded by spacious farms, we ourselves were not farmers. We lived in an old stone house on Tecumseh Road, miles from the nearest town of Yellow Springs in one direction, and even more miles from the nearest city of Springfield in the other.

The house sat at the base of a limestone cliff from which a fresh water spring emerged nearby. The spring fed into a pond in our side yard, across which my father had built a cement bridge. All our footprints had been set into the wet cement, so over the years we kids could trace the growth of our feet. The small waterfalls cascading from the cliff into this pond were magical. Barefoot most of the time, we loved to wade in the water, especially on a simmering July day. Our feet quickly grew numb as we made our way awkwardly over the small round stones at the bottom of the pond. Although shrieking with joy, our voices were barely audible over the sound of the waterfalls nearby.

Adding to the magic was a special plant that grew at the water’s edge. When we submerged the leaves of this plant and turned them upside down, their back surface appeared silver in the icy water. Watercress also grew here, and we loved to nibble the crisp bitter leaves. What a haven for children! But, that wasn’t all.

After we tired of playing in the pond, we could walk along the base of the cliff to the far end of the yard. When thick brush prevented us from walking further, we could work our way through the tall plants to a secret trail flanked by sheer boulders on both sides. This trail allowed us to hike to the top of the cliff. We dubbed this the “Indian Trail.”

At the top of the trail, we quickly wandered into property that we knew wasn’t ours, a fact which added to our sense of adventure. But this flat area at the top of the cliff simply hosted a dense glen of trees where we could wander to our heart’s content. Sometimes we collected black walnuts here. Sometimes we lucked into finding a turtle which we would bring home and keep for a few days before taking it back up the Indian Trail and releasing it where we found it.

It was in this yard, in this pond, on this trail, and in this glen, that I developed the intense love of nature that has been with me all my life. Just writing about it now brings back sweet, wild memories of a time when we wandered the land, not yet having words for all that we saw and felt.
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Poignant moments are abundant in our lives, and writing gives us a way to preserve them. Often we rely on photographs to preserve such moments, but most of the time we do not have a camera on hand when such moments occur. After all, they almost by definition occur by surprise, and it is often the element of surprise that adds to the poignancy.

Sometimes these have to do with our relations with loved ones. For example, I bought the rocking chair shown above years ago, hoping it would come in handy for a grandchild some day. I waited over 30 years for a scene such as the one above, featuring my grandson!

But, I’ve noticed that poignant moments also frequently occur with strangers, even in the check-out line at the grocery or department store.

Just yesterday, for example, I was purchasing ten washcloths at Macy’s, and the clerk commented that she liked the kind of washcloths I was buying. “They dry so quickly,” she said. “Yes,” I agreed. That’s why I like them, too!

She began scanning them, one-by-one, even though they were identical. And, after scanning each one, she would carefully fold it and add it to a neat stack on the counter. I fought the impulse to hurry her along. No need to waste her time, and mine, in folding items that would be tossed into the washing machine as soon as I got home. But, I realized she was probably trained to do this, so I stood patiently and forced a smile.

As she completed the sale, she said, “I really like your hair. I’ve been thinking of changing to that style.” I should explain: My hair is a short, straight pageboy, whereas hers was long and shaped into a cascade of waves and curls.

“I like this style for the same reason I like these washcloths,” I said. “It dries quickly!”

She broke into a sudden smile, apparently as surprised as I was by the connection of washcloths to hairstyles, and we laughed together. I walked away feeling I had brought some merriment into both our lives, partially because I was able to overcome my impatience. Maybe not all that poignant, but you get the point.

This month, I invite you to reflect on evocative moments in your everyday life. Or, perhaps there is a memory from your past, maybe just a brief scene, that is waiting to be preserved in words.

We hope you’ll submit what you come up with.

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January is a time for resolutions and fresh starts. Yet, I also find that some writers lose a bit of energy at this time of year. The holidays take their toll on us.  Plus, let’s face it:  It’s hard to get up early and write when the skies are still dark, the floors are cold, and we just want to hibernate a bit longer under our warm winter quilt.

But, hey! You can overcome all this and have a rewarding writing session with just a few easy steps.

Step One: Make a weekly appointment with yourself to sit down and write for just 15 minutes. So, for example, make an appointment to be at your kitchen table at 10:00 every Saturday morning.  Or, whatever time and place works for YOU!

Step Two: Build some incentives into this appointment! If you plan to write in the morning, which many writers prefer, then the night before, lay out the coffee or tea makings. Purchase your favorite breakfast treat … perhaps a Danish or donut. Or, perhaps a bowl of oatmeal with raisins and almonds. Or, maybe a frozen quiche you can pop into the microwave. I’ve found that my muse responds well to culinary bribery! (A square of chocolate to dip into your hot mug of coffee is a perfectly acceptable self-bribe in my book!)

Step Three: Keep your goal reasonable and do-able. You can start each session with the words, “I remember …” and then just keep your pen, or your keyboard fingers, moving! Your only commitment is to write for 15 minutes. See what happens.  I guarantee you will surprise yourself!

We hope you’ll submit what you come up with.

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I’ve learned some helpful tips from Martha Stewart. For example, I learned that I don’t need to go out and buy fall and winter foliage for my Thanksgiving and Christmas table centerpieces.  Instead, I can just go in my backyard and pick out a few ferns, some small branches, and maybe a spray or two of berries. Pine cones can be found on the trail where I walk my dog. I can cluster these on the table and perhaps add a candle or two. Voila! And, I learned that it is fine to add one “misfit” flower or plant to an arrangement. Not everything has to match.

But, I also think that Martha Stewart has perhaps unwittingly added to the unfortunate situation in which women (and some men) feel that they need their porch, their house, their tree, their yard, their food offerings all to be perfect!

This adds stress, and even competition, to a season which should be full of love and comfort.

Along with these thoughts, I’ve been reflecting on how the true gifts of the season come not from some heroic effort at decorating, baking, or entertaining. Rather, the gifts come in small moments of joy and serendipity. My Uncle Jim, who passed away this month, taught me to focus on these moments which he dubbed “microjoys.”  A microjoy does not stem from a huge and historic event in our life.  Rather, it is just a joy that occurs within a moment — a joy that comes unbidden and that brings a smile to our lips, a warmth to our heart.

This year, for example, one microjoy that comes to mind is when our 17-month old grandson pointed to an angel on our Christmas tree and said, “Baby?” This particular angel was one I purchased years ago at a craft sale and has comically wild hair. His labelling of this as a “baby” filled me with delight.

Another microjoy was biting into an “opera cream” from Esther’s Chocolates, a candy store in Cincinnati. My younger sister, Linda, sent me a box of these for Christmas, and they are wonderful. I also felt a microjoy when I shared this box of candies with my Unitarian Chalice Circle that met on the Friday evening between Christmas and New Year’s.

And the list could go on and on. 

One of the reasons I like to focus on microjoys during this holidays is because microjoys can serve as an antidote against our tendency to assess whether our Christmas is measuring up to some external standard. It is a good time of year to repeat to ourselves the following mantra: Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.

There are so many good moments during the holidays. Be on the lookout for them.  And celebrate each moment as a microjoy. Next: Send US some of your holiday microjoys!

We hope you’ll submit what you come up with.

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Holiday memories can bring a special joy to the writer and the reader.   Often we take comfort in common traditions while at the same time appreciating how each person’s memories are unique.   Memoirs such as Dylan Thomas’s A Child’s Christmas in Wales come in the form of a composite, capturing highlights of Christmases (in Wales) in general.

Another kind of holiday memory comes from the other end of the spectrum.  In this case, the memory of a specific holiday stands out in memory precisely because it was not typical, because it tells of a season, a day, or an event that varied from the norm.  For example, it might be about Christmas away from home, even at war.  Or a Hanukkah or other holiday when a family member was away, or sick.   Often these stories are based on particular hardships during the holidays.  They may or may not include the ways that people coped and managed to find comfort in small pleasures and shared sacrifice.

We’d like to hear your holiday stories.   Even a paragraph or two is bound to inspire us and warm us up at this chilly time of year!

We hope you’ll submit what you come up with.

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One powerful way to elicit memories is to sketch a simple map of a home or neighborhood you once lived in. This seems to access memories stored in the right brain. So, for example, you could sketch a floor plan of a childhood home, or a simple map of your immediate neighborhood. If you spent a lot of time outdoors, a diagram of your yard can also be fun to draw and think about. You might also enjoy drawing a floor plan of your school, your public library, or any place that was significant to you at some time during your life.

When reflecting on these simple drawings, allow yourself to be receptive to memories of things that happened in different rooms or locations. You might even have a conversation with a friend or relative, explaining the different areas represented and saying a bit about how “I used to spend time here …” or where “A particular event stands out in my memory …”

At a certain point, most people discover, in this way, an experience they would like to write about. This can be a specific event (my 16th birthday party) or a general custom (this is where Dad stacked the wood for our wood stove).

Why not try this, either by yourself or with friends/relatives?

We hope you’ll submit what you come up with.

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As children, we experienced the end of summer along with the excitement of returning to school. In most cases, we had a mix of emotions … joyful anticipation of seeing our friends, but also a bit of anxiety about the work, and perhaps some sadness about returning to confinement!

This month, the challenge is to reflect on our childhood experiences surrounding the pencils and pens we took to school and used in our assignments. This is such a specific set of details that it might unlock the way you experienced school. One way into this is to think about what you packed in your school bag — pencils, crayons, a protractor, a compass? Can you elicit the immediacy of memories from your school days?

You might want to just jot down images that come to mind when you contemplate writing or drawing at school or when doing homework. For example, can you remember spelling tests?  Art projects? Favorite pens, pencils, or erasers?   Just write freely about what comes to mind.

We hope you’ll submit what you come up with.

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