The Ides of Memoir
As I grow older, I live more and more in the past. And so I have decided to try and return to setting down my memoir, though in a different fashion than in the past. Previously, I started and stopped a memoir focusing mainly on my mother and my relationship with her (see here, here, here, and here). For reasons I won’t delve into here, I have decided that this focus was not conducive to regular effort, and so I have decided to start again.
I feel the need to record my memories of certain things, places, people, and events that have remained clanging around in my mind, and I want to do this before memory fades or becomes too distorted to be accurate and interesting to read. And so, here I will try again, with all my indolence and inconsistencies and the utter lack of focus and discipline that marks out a good writer.
A word on how I will be proceeding: Since I intend to try and self-publish my memoirs someday for my family and grandchildren, I do not want all of my autobiographical writings floating around in one handy place. I will post my entries as I am able, I will leave them up for one week for my regular readers to see, and then I will delete them from this blog. So at any one time, there will only be one entry available, and there will be no “Our Story So Far” summary at the beginning of any of the subsequent entries.
I hope my dear readers enjoy the glimpses I plan to give. And I hope that I enjoy this exercise, too.
~ S.K. Orr
6 Comments
James
Carol, your mom sounds like my mom was. If there was a nickel to be saved somewhere, she found it. I never considered us to be poor, but it was some years later before I understood what my parents did without at times either.
S.K., I’m looking forward to reading some of these.
admin
James, thank you, brother.
I was like you. I never considered us poor. At least, not until I got out in the world and made that awful mistake of comparing myself to others. Our lack of material wealth was more a source of fascination, more than anything else. Once I had time to digest and understand it, that is. How DID my mother keep us all fed and housed and clothed on what she made?
James
It was easier for my folks because I was an only child so it was just the three of us. Mom didn’t work outside the home and dad worked pileing lumber to air dry at a local saw mill.
I remember one day when he came home with a used wringer washing machine for mom. I had never seen her so excited. Before that it was a double tub cast iron sink and a washboard on the back porch.
admin
James, my grandmother had one of the wringer washing machines. She kept it out on the back porch and ran a hose from it down into the back yard, where the sudsy water would drain after she washed a load. I can still remember how the wooden wringer rollers felt, weathered and slick from many garments being run between them. I enjoyed being reminded of this…
Carol
I appreciate your willingness to share your history here…
Rereading the four previous entries, I had forgotten how similar your childhood was to mine – in one of the few baby photos of myself, I am (about 4 months old) being bathed in the kitchen sink.
We were quite poor, but my mother could pinch a penny til it screamed out a quarter’s worth of goods!
admin
“We were quite poor, but my mother could pinch a penny til it screamed out a quarter’s worth of goods!”
I love that line, Carol…thank you. I’m sure you’re like me…you wouldn’t trade those lean years for anything in the world. My early poverty made me immensely wealthy.