|The LifeStory Institute
The writer's workshop for memoirists, autobiographers and family historians.
Founded in 1991 as a how-to newsletter/magazine, LifeStory, and also as an over-the-road workshop
travelling North America teaching and coaching new and longtime writers of all ages how to write about
their lives and the lives of their ancestors. The basic premise is that everyone can, and probably should,
write their life story to pass on to their family, friends, and others interested, including and perhaps
I'M REMODELING! UNDER CONSTRUCTION
as of this morning, April 23, 2013. This will take a day or two...if you have
questions, call Charley Kempthorne at 785.564.1118. Watch for the
changes, more stories, more pictures, more of everything.
Meantime, here's some thing about journaling and my own journal, in particular. I have the idea that I could virtually write a book about my mother if I collected all the
items about her from my own journal, which I have kept since 1964. And perhaps that is true. But how in all the nearly 8,000,000 words do I find the material about
Of course there is the "search" feature, right? So all I'd have to do would be type in "mom" and up would come each item. Alas, it didn't work that way. I did indeed go
through the journal and type in "mom," but mostly I got "moment" or even stuff like "chamomile." So the searching may have to be longer and much more work than I'd
figured. I might just have to scroll through the whole thing.
I did get this and several others, at least good examples of the value of the specific moment:
Wed., Mar. 12, 1986 -
Mom was sick. June talked to her on the phone; I was in the bathroom when the phone rang. She was too sick to stay home, Mom said. She would just check into the
hospital for a couple of days. That worried me. It always worries me when one of our parents goes to the hospital. My mother is 77 and June's is 80. If they go to the
hospital, they risk not coming out alive.
Anyway, I went by to see Mom and to see what I could do. I stopped and got her some ice cream, or ice milk since she doesn't like things too sweet, because she had
a sore throat. I had just gotten over a bad sore throat [myself] and ice milk was the only thing that I could eat without pain. The ice milk was cool and it just slid right
past the sore throat down into my stomach.
When I got there she protested that she didn't want anything, then when I went right ahead and got a dish down from the cupboard she got up and sat down at the
kitchen table but said she didn't want very much. I gave her a big dish. "Oh, that's too much," she said. "I'll never eat that." "Just eat what you want," I said... "You need
to get some nourishment down you." When I left she was eating greedily, obviously enjoying it.