Dedicated to...

A lot of people skim past book dedications, but not me. I read them twice: first, when I am turning the pages to start chapter one and then, upon completing the book’s final words. After spending a couple hundred pages with the author, my second reading of the dedication always seems to penetrate deeper.

Book dedications feel like tiny windows into the author’s life. Candidness before the formality of stepping on stage. In just a few words, the author acknowledges the person or people who provided the inspiration for what follows.

When you write your life story - either with the help of a personal historian or on your own - think about to whom you’d like to dedicate your book and what you’d like to say. It can be simple, loving, or even funny. It can mirror the theme of your memoirs or it can stand alone as a unique message. It can be anything at all – just be sure it reflects your voice and spirit.

Below are a few memorable book dedications, some of which are nearly as celebrated as the books they come from. Don’t be intimidated by their ingenuity, though. Thousands upon thousands of books have been dedicated, “For Mom.” That works too.

“An Introduction to Algebraic Topology” – Joseph J. Rotman

“To my wife Marganit

and my children Ella Rose and Daniel Adam

without whom this book would have

been completed two years earlier.”

“Cosmos” – Carl Sagan

“In the vastness of space and immensity of time, it is my joy to spend a planet and an epoch with Annie.”

“The Little Prince” – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

“I ask the indulgence of the children who may read this book for dedicating it to a grown-up. I have a serious reason: he is the best friend I have in the world. I have another reason: this grown-up understands everything, even books about children. I have a third reason: he lives in France where he is hungry and cold. He needs cheering up. If all these reasons are not enough, I will dedicate the book to the child from whom this grown-up grew. All grown-ups were once children– although few of them remember it. And so I correct my dedication:

To Leon Werth

When he was a little boy”

“The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman” – Ernest J. Gaines

“This book is dedicated to the memory of my grandmother, Mrs. Julius McVay

My stepfather, Mr. Ralph Norbert Colar, Sr.

And to the memory of my beloved aunt, Miss Augusteen Jefferson, who did not walk a day in her life but who taught me the importance of standing”

“The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” – C. S. Lewis

“To Lucy Barfield

My Dear Lucy,

I wrote this story for you, but when I began it I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it is printed and bound you will be older still. But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. You can then take it down from some upper shelf, dust it, and tell me what you think of it. I shall probably be too deaf to hear, and too old to understand a word you say, but I shall still be

your affectionate Godfather,

C.S. Lewis”

“Otherland” Series – Tad Williams

“This Book is dedicated to my father Joseph Hill Evans with love. Actually Dad doesn’t read fiction, so if someone doesn’t tell him about this, he’ll never know.”

“This Book is dedicated to my father Joseph Hill Evans with love. As I said before, Dad doesn’t read fiction. He still hasn’t noticed that this thing is dedicated to him. This is Volume Two – let’s see how many more until he catches on.”

“This is still dedicated to you-know-who, even if he doesn’t. Maybe we can keep this a secret all the way to the final volume.”

“My father still hasn’t actually cracked any of the books – so, no, he still hasn’t noticed. I think I’m just going to have to tell him. Maybe I should break it to him gently.”

“Everyone here who hasn’t had a book dedicated to them, take three steps forward. Whoops, Dad, hang on there for a second...”

“Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Book 7)” – J.K. Rowling

“The dedication of this book is split seven ways:

to Neil, to Jessica, to David, to Kenzie, to Di, to Anne,

and to you, if you have stuck with Harry until the very end.”

Our Other Children

At a recent gathering of personal historians, I learned of a potential new niche for marketing my business: pet owners. As a whole, Americans adore their pets. And when a dog or cat dies, many want to memorialize their beloved friend through a photo book, a professional memorial, and even a life story.

I get it. Eight years later, I’m still mourning Bits, my beautiful Himalayan who slept on my pillow each night. Who licked my face until it was raw. And today, our Lab/Cocker mix, Cricket, is such an integral member of our family that I can’t imagine waking up without her, not having her there to greet us with utter elation when we walk through the door each day.

There are personal historians out there who work exclusively for pet owners. Their passion is to preserve the memory of furry best friends and capture the essence of the human/pet bond. To be honest, I’m not sure that’s my niche. As much as I love animals – and trust me, I do – I don’t think specializing as a pet personal historian is for me.

But as a human's personal historian, I will say this: Our pets can be hugely important parts of our lives. They give us unconditional love, boundless joy, and undying companionship, and we treasure these creatures with all of our being, as they do us.

If you’ve had a special pet that taught you about the universality of love, be sure to include him or her in your life story. Give your pet the attention they deserve and don’t – for even a second – feel silly acknowledging the place they held in your life and heart.

As the saying goes, “May I always be the kind of person my dog thinks I am.”

What a nice legacy for a pet to offer.

New Year's Resolutions: A Plug from a Personal Historian

New Year’s resolutions get a bad rap these days. I get it. We’ve all binged on chips on January second. We’ve all started watching too much television and neglecting our friendships before February arrives. Very few of us have great records when it comes to maintaining New Year’s resolutions. And yet, I still like them.

In spite of it all, New Year’s gives us a chance to reflect. What’s going well? What needs work? What are my priorities for change?

And where’s the downside in that? Of course, as a personal historian, I’m all about reflecting. Resolution-making and memoir-writing, after all, are similar tasks in some ways. One asks us to reflect and project in 12-month increments; the other takes a longer view with a bigger lens and a greater sense of perspective.  

Both tasks give us the chance to grow.

How do you want to grow in this next year? If you’re so inclined, consider starting your memoirs. For those with big dreams, consult with a personal historian to help guide you through the process of creating a hard-cover heirloom that shares your story in depth. For those who would like to start smaller, begin jotting down your memories, or drafting an ethical will, or writing a letter to a loved one.

Regardless of how you proceed, like New Year’s resolutions, your memoirs should look back (in this case, “how did I get to be the person I am today?) and look forward (“what stories do I want my children and grandchildren to remember?”).  

Take a moment to look at the good that New Year’s resolutions offer. The chance to reflect, the chance to explore, the chance to present your descendants with a gift they will treasure forever. 

And all without having to give up desserts.

Happy New Year!

When I Grow Up, I'd Like to...

Last June, with the summer upon us, I found myself thumbing through my son’s just-released elementary school yearbook. While Evan was in fifth grade then, I was drawn to the sixth grade section, where graduating 12-year-olds share their favorite elementary school memory, a fitting adjective for themselves, and their career ambition.

I started with the A’s and as I made my way through the “senior” section, I studied the career goal line most closely. Navy Elementary, I learned, had a HUGE number of future professional athletes. Pitchers, quarterbacks, and point guards abound! Other students saw themselves going to law school or med school. Several aspired to be teachers or artists. More than a few proudly declared “mom” as their ultimate goal and one child predicted that he would work at Google.

And then I came to the last student on the list. This girl closed out the sixth grade section with an answer that none of her classmates had stated: “I don’t know yet.”

What an honest answer for a kid surrounded by so much certainty!

When you think back on your youth, did you know what you wanted to be? Or did you share the “I don’t know yet” philosophy? Did you realize your childhood goal or did you change course? Maybe you had a series of jobs that paid the bills. Or perhaps you had a profession that filled your identity and fed your soul.

Maybe you worked outside the house or maybe your work was maintaining a family and home.

Regardless of how it all panned out, be sure to highlight your career when you write your memoirs. It may be a success story or a missed opportunity story or a still-trying-to-figure-it-out story. A personal historian can help you uncover the lessons learned – and gems realized – behind whatever door you chose. And each door has a memory.

Please let me know if I can help you tell yours.

Giving Thanks

With Thanksgiving upon us, I am again aware of one of my favorite parts of being a personal historian: the opportunity to help people recall their life blessings and give thanks.

Study after study points to the benefits of gratitude. Here is a sampling if you’re interested:

• A serving of gratitude may save the day
• Giving thanks can make you happier
• Gratitude and well-being: A review and theoretical integration

While life is undeniably hard at times, our willingness to remember victories and appreciate kindnesses makes all the difference in how we frame our life story. Michael J. Fox, stricken with Parkinson’s Disease at age 29, titled his autobiography, “Lucky Man.” Elie Weisel, Holocaust survivor, stated, “For me, every hour is grace. And I feel gratitude in my heart each time I can meet someone and look at his or her smile.”

This Thanksgiving, in addition to giving thanks for the goodness in your life today, try to recall the gifts you’ve received from yesteryear. The wonders you’ve seen, the people who have touched your heart.

And if the impulse moves you, share your gratitude with those you love. At dinner over turkey or, in greater detail, through the writing of your life story. Your thanks, I have no doubt, will be treasured.

Best wishes for a healthy and happy Thanksgiving!