Memoirs 101

I'm sure some of my readers have either written or started to write, or thought about writing their life stories to pass down to future generations. I've begun to do that and am trying to get away from mere statistics to make it story-like. Here's one way to do that. Write about random incidents in your life that you think are memorable. You can put them in chronological order later if you wish, but it's more fun and less laborious, I think, to just let them come out spontaneously regardless of sequence. 

Here is a sample of one of my earliest memories which remains vividly alive: 

Watch Out For Those Curbs!

When I was about four I did what I’d been told not to do. I stepped off the curb at the end of our block and crossed the street. Several blocks away I was feeling gloriously free to be exploring beyond my own neighborhood. I had walked that way with my mother once before and now I was doing it all by myself! When I got to a corner store and walked in the grocer greeted me, not realizing I was alone because he was busy waiting on another customer. 

Soon he turned to me. “So, little lady, is your mother here?” I shook my head no. 

“Did she send you here to buy something?” My head nodded yes. “What do you want?” I pointed to a loaf of bread in the glass case. “A loaf of bread? This one?” A silent yes with the head again. I watched him put the bread in a paper bag. Then he handed it to me. I took it and turned to go. 

 “Wait, that will be 10 cents, dear.” A blank look on my face must have told him. “Oh, you’d better go home and get some money. I’ll keep the bread until you get back.” I hightailed it out the door.

(I have to explain here that in those days children played freely on the sidewalks near their homes and the grocer perhaps assumed we lived nearby. Neighborhood children might have strayed in frequently for candy or ice cream. )

Well, by then I was beginning to feel my little escapade was not going well. I should have heeded that quiet voice in my head, "Mama said No!" when I stepped off the first curb. I was ready to go home. 

Outside the grocery store door everything looked different. I didn’t know which street to take so I just started walking. I didn’t recognize any of the houses and suddenly storm sirens started screaming. Now I was really frightened! Where was home? Where was Mama? I wanted to cry but I didn’t see anyone nor did I want to excite any strangers out of those strange houses. For the first time in my life I knew what it was like to be lost, and I didn’t like it! 

Dark clouds descended, rolling over me ominously and a sudden wind was so strong it blew my skirt up over my face. I thought it would blow me away!  All I could do was keep on walking but still I was walking in a different world, a strange world. Now I was really scared! 

After a few blocks I still couldn’t see anything familiar. Just then I heard a car engine behind me and turned to see Mr. Ratche, a neighbor of ours, in his Model T. Ford. He pulled up to the curb and called to me.  

“Joycie! Would you like a ride home? Come, climb in the car and I’ll take you.” 

I'd been told not to go with strangers but Mr. Ratche? He wasn't a stranger. As I stepped up on the running board and slipped onto the leather seat a flood of tears poured out. 

Mr. Ratche handed me a handkerchief. “Don’t cry, Honey. I’ll get you home. A storm is coming up and your Mama and Papa have been looking all over for you.”

At home I saw police cars with lights flashing. Mr. Ratche carried me in the house and my mother screamed and rushed to take me in her arms. Daddy was there too. He had closed the gas station where he worked to come home and look for me. Policemen in uniforms with strange leather belts over their shoulders loomed tall in the doorway. A few neighbors were there too and suddenly our house seemed very small. Everyone was talking, the telephone kept ringing and I buried my head on Mama’s shoulder. Daddy answered the phone. “She’s home,” he said. “Yes, she’s been found. Thanks for your help.” 

When the others left Mama washed my face. “Oh, Joycie, why did you go off? I’ve told you over and over never to step off the curb or go out of sight. You can’t know how scared we were!” 

The storm soon passed over leaving branches of trees and roof shingles scattered over lawns and sidewalks but one little girl was safe. And wiser too. Not long afterward when my Sunday school teacher got to the Ten Commandments and she read, “Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days maybe long...” I knew what that meant. And whenever I saw my foot on the curb I never stepped down to the street unless my hand was in one of my parent’s hand. Of course, the day came when I outgrew that rule but not without permission. Then I'd learned another rule, one that has lasted all my life: 
STOP, LOOK, and LISTEN. That rule works for more than street curbs too.