|The LifeStory Institute
with Charley and June Kempthorne
The writer's workshop for memoirists, autobiographers and family historians.
LifeStory was founded in 1991 as a how-to newsletter/magazine 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 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 especially,
All material on this website unless otherwise indicated is Copyright 2019 by The LifeStory Institute.
New LifeStory Journalong starts Friday, Feb.1,2019!
THE LIFESTORY JOURNALONG
28 days to writing more or less happily for the rest of your life!
Journal along with Charley & June every day for the next 28 days and you will form the habit of journaling every day, one day at a
time. In one year if you write 500 words a day you will write 182,500 words--the length of three books. If you write 250 words a
day, you will write 91,250 words, the length of one long book. Choose which you want to do, 500 or 250, then start in and stick to
it. If you have any trouble and need some help/support, please call me at 785-564-1118. Leave a message and I will call you
back the same day. This is important if you consider writing your personal and family history important to your descendants.
[Please note: June journals with her own drawings as well as words. Let a hundred flowers bloom!]
SUMMARY OR SCENE? LIFESTORY JOURNALONG FOR FEB.1, 2019 DAY ONE
Mom was born March 5, 1909 in West Point, Kentucky on the banks of the Ohio River and just a few miles southwest of Louisville. Her
mother was Lizzie Lee Knight and her father was Lewis Clinton Isaacs. She had two brothers (one of whom died in childhood) and
one sister. She was the youngest child. She probably attended schools in nearby Elizabethtown and Louisville, but at some point the
family moved to Indianapolis, Indiana, where she finished high school and worked in a small factory and then met my father. She was
almost 25 when she married my father, a medical doctor, on January 6, 1934. They had three children. They lived in Indianapolis, then
in North Dakota and Kansas and, briefly, in Texas until her husband was sent overseas with the US Army in 1942. During that time, the
War years, she took their two young sons and lived in Indiana, where she bought a house and took in her parents also. Her mother
died in 1944. In 1948 her last child and only daughter was born. In 1950, her father died. She was a housewife and mother in
Manhattan, Kansas. Her husband died in 1983. She lived alone until she died on March 4, 1997, one day before her 88th birthday. She
is buried alongside her husband in the Pleasant Valley Cemetery in the Deep Creek Community near Manhattan.
Mom lit another cigarette and blew the match out with a long blue plume of smoke. She tossed the match into the ashtray on the desk
as she leaned over and said, “Hutch, I think we’re going to have to compress things a little.” Ray Hutchins, the chief architect, put down
his pencil and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Kempy?” he said with a smile. “Kempy,” Mom said. “He just about killed me when
he saw the contractor’s estimate.” “I’m not surprised,” Hutch said, puffing on his pipe. Mom nodded. “I think we can do some things
to economize, Lil,” he went on. “But you’re not going to like them.” “Let’s see what I won’t like,” Mom laughed, and the two put their
heads together over the drawing of the house plan in front of them.