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Welcome! This is my blog. Each month I share my thoughts on memoir writing, personal history, my work, my own stories, other people's stories. It's all about those stories people tell. You can sign-up to receive my blog in your email inbox, along with notices about classes, events and special offers.
The reason I’m so darn revved up about this class is that it combines so many of my great loves: stories, performance, the truth, memoir, fun groups of people, sweaty palms…WAIT, take that last one back.
A love poem to storytelling: The spot lights on a teller pouring out the grains of their humanity into the palm of their hand, throwing those grains like confetti out into the audience gathered in sacred loving listening.
I had big ideas about what I would teach these budding oral historians in only two short hours.
I am looking for women who have gathered their mothers' stories. Have you interviewed or recorded your mother telling her stories? Did you delve through her journals, interview other family members, or write your own memories of her? If you said yes to any of these, I'd love to talk with you about it.
John McLaughlin had hoped to gather his father’s stories before it was “too late.” He planned to hire me to create an audio memoir. In the meantime John began asking his dad about the old days during their car rides to medical appointments. He was researching and setting the stage for me to record these stories and more, so family and friends could hear Bob’s laugh, the cadence of his voice, his own stories in his own words. But that would never come to pass...
"My father started playing hooky and dropped out of school because, in his words, he thought he was 'too cool for school.' He became a kind of early James Dean prototype, a young man about town. He would drive a red 1950 Chevy to weekly dances at all the area Grange halls. At a dance in Mt. Vernon, Maine where there was this pretty and exotic-looking girl (to his eyes) that he just had to dance with..."
“Are you saying you want us to change history?” a man in my oral history workshop asked. I was encouraging my students to take their recordings a step beyond oral history and craft something interesting with it. To edit. Yes, to change history. The man in my class compared this idea to changing a historic photo in Photoshop. I balked! And yet…
Everyone gets to be Irish on St. Paddy’s Day. Put a shamrock button on your shirt, gulp some green beer, and proclaim, “Kiss me, I’m Irish!” But there was a time in this country when the Irish were seen as America's big immigrant problem.
Are you frustrated because your aging mom or dad seems lonely and bored but you’re so busy trying to juggle your daily life? Meghan shares five simple ideas that can make a big difference to you and your parents.
I don’t mean to be crass, but nobody is getting any younger here. I meet people nearly every day that say, “I wish I had met you while my parents were still alive” or “…before my mom’s dementia really set in.”
This week many of us will gather to share a meal of Thanksgiving. This is a perfect opportunity to share our stories and honor our elders. Here are five ways to get the stories started.
For a long time when I thought of my grandma, unfortunately, I often thought, “She’s such a racist.” So many of my memories of her go something like this....
Mmmm. Donuts. Tasty and they have history too. Apparently Midcoast Maine put the hole in the donut. And, right in Rockland, the Wotton family made donuts for decades.
I was accused of stealing jewelry from an old lady and it changed my life and launched my career.
What do illegal seal hunts, shipwrecks, lawsuits, pickled salmon, a 72-year old sea walrus, and something called the “Bug Line” have in common? If it sounds like the ingredients for a Jack London novel, you’re not that far off...
“I was a little apprehensive about the whole thing, because I didn’t know him for beans. But Bob brought along a toy billy club and toy handcuffs, so if he got out of control I could straighten him out. That just made me laugh."
Eleven years ago I conducted my first personal history interview. I’m sorry to say the recording is gone, lost to history. Only the fragments of my memories remain. I was a wannabe radio producer and desperate to join the cool kids at This American Life. To gain interviewing experience I asked a nun named Sister Beth...
2015 was an amazing year. I didn't even realize just how much had happened until I started going through my memories of the year. Here's a glimpse at my year in review and a sneak peek at 2016.
Monday, December 7 is National Letter Writing Day!
Getting a real letter in the mail is one of life's great simple joys. Writing one is even more rewarding. Yet, how often do we do take the effort to write by hand?
There is a new love in my life and I am just bursting to tell you about it. I am pleased to welcome a new member to the family...
I love that asking someone a question about their past opens a window. I can see who they are a little better through this window. I can see them actively shining their light a little brighter as they tell their story. I see they are more than just a mother, or a husband, or a lawyer, or a hairdresser, or whatever labels they provided during our introduction. I find out...
Barbra Cleveland tells her story of moving to Maine in 1971 during the back-to-the-land movement and building a cabin for only $97.
Camp Cavell, on the shores of Lake Huron is the quintessential summer scene of my childhood. All of camp faces the lake, bowing to its majesty. Only freighter boats, sailboats, and motorboats interrupt the view. Along the sandy shores we swim, kayak, and withstand frigid temperatures; we discover fossils and fish bones; deep in the cool wet sand we unearth the decaying remains of ships sunk long ago.
You might notice something different about my appearance. No, I didn't get a new haircut. I'm talking about my business appearance. This is a time of transition and change. At the same time, it is a renewal of my mission and the values that have made this work so important to me.
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