Embrace Your Weaknesses

All memoirists write about their strengths. They sprinkle anecdotes highlighting their intelligence and humor and generosity throughout the narrative. These stories are fun to share, and they’re (usually) true. It makes sense – it’s a reasonable approach to follow.

But where are the other stories?

The completed memoir should reflect the totality of who we are – bright and sunny, dark and stormy, and of course many shades in between. Recently the New York Times published a tongue-in-cheek column featuring fictional obituaries of imperfect, imaginary people. The idea, I assume, was to personalize the recently departed, who seem to evolve from flawed-human to faultless-saint the second their heartbeat stops.  Here’s a sampling:

·         “David Meldrick, 68, of Rahway, N.J., died peacefully at home, surrounded by his beloved family, on May 2. Mr. Meldrick was perhaps best known for never picking up a check.”

·         “Laurene Fitzhugh, 78, of Parsippany, N.J., died May 3 at her home. A community activist and dedicated volunteer in her church, Ms. Fitzhugh was perhaps best known for saying, “I don’t need an entree, I’ll just have a taste of yours.” She had no survivors.”

·         “Denise Pantuso, 84, died at home in Bethpage, N.Y., on April 14 after a short illness. A devoted wife and mother, Mrs. Pantuso was perhaps best known for always missing the point.”

We all know these kinds of people, but somehow these kinds of words never make it into their obituaries.

The article reminded me of a scene from Good Will Hunting, when Sean (Robin Williams) counseled Will (Matt Damon) to pursue another date with a young lady even if a second get-together risked scarring her “perfect” image:

“My wife used to fart when she was nervous. She had all sorts of wonderful idiosyncrasies. You know what? She used to fart in her sleep….She's been dead two years and that's the s*** I remember. Wonderful stuff, you know, little things like that. Ah, but, those are the things I miss the most. The little idiosyncrasies that only I knew about. That's what made her my wife. Oh, and she had the goods on me, too, she knew all my little peccadillos. People call these things imperfections, but they're not, aw, that's the good stuff.”

When you write your life story, be sure to discuss the qualities that define you. If you’re kind, give readers examples of your kindness. If you’re strong, give readers examples of your strength.

But include your weaknesses, your foibles, your “good stuff” too.

Make yourself human.

What's the "Right" Age to Write a Memoir?

A recent article in the New York Times, in critiquing a Washington Post book review, settled on this question as its title: “Should There Be a Minimum Age for Writing a Memoir?”

It’s a fair question. Part of what makes the genre so interesting is that time has passed and authors can view their lives from a distance. Retrospection allows us to see things with a fresh eye. Grown adults judge their parents more kindly than teenagers. Failed marriages look differently 10 or 20 years later than they do in the court house. With time, we make sense of our relationships, our successes, and our failures.

There is validity to that argument.

The Washington Post, however, took this point to an extreme in a Fall 2014 book review: “We really do not need yet another memoir by a person too young to have undergone any genuinely interesting and instructive experiences—or, having had such experiences, too young to know what to make of them—and too self-involved to have any genuine empathy for those whose paths he crosses….”

I have issue with this argument—as does the New York Times—because there is another fact that trumps all:

People of all ages have incredible stories and with maturity and insight, these stories can and should be told.

No one would argue against the publication of Anne Frank’s beloved classic, The Diary of a Young Girl. I am Malala—published when the Pakistani girl was just 16—became an immediate bestseller. Michael J. Fox reached millions with his memoir about being diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease at age 29.

As a personal historian, I’ve worked with 36-year-olds and 94-year-olds. Even my six-year-old son took a stab at writing his life story. We all have something to share and we all reap huge rewards when we share it.

And the argument for waiting until old age to write a memoir begs another question: When is our story “done?” When I recently presented my 94-year-old client with her final, printed book, she said, “But I have more to say. Maybe I’ll add more later.”

In short, there’s no minimum age. There’s no maximum age.

It’s your story and it’s your timetable.

Let me know if I can help.

Stuff

My parents moved recently. From their spacious three-bedroom town house to their beautiful but less-spacious two-bedroom apartment. It was a good move. Time to be on one level, time to simplify their lives, time to welcome a new era. And time to get rid of “stuff.”

And after nearly 30 years in their old home, boy was there a lot of it. When it came time to pack, the stuff was divided into piles: keep, dump, donate, sell, or pass down. Pottery that once lured them from a store shelf now sat in a dumpster. Souvenirs from long-ago vacations went to Goodwill. Only the stuff of value—usually sentimental—landed in the keep or pass down pile.

After all the piles were set, there was very little that was truly difficult for them to discard. In the end, I realized, we really don’t need all that much. Or even want it.

But since this is a blog on a personal historian’s website, let me reframe this, lest I miss the point entirely:

Which of your “stuff” has the most sentimental value? My bet is there is very little. A great grandfather’s framed photograph? A daughter’s drawing from Kindergarten? A wedding gift from a dear friend?

Usually it is something both beautiful and meaningful. Something that pleases your eyes and heart.

When you write your life story, be sure to share details about your most valuable belongings. Where did you get them? Why do you treasure them so?

What are the stories behind them?

The stories behind these most precious possessions, after all, are really stories about us. Who we are, what we care about, and where we came from.

And these stories—like the book you ultimately write—definitely belong in the keep pile.

Writing Our Life Stories: A Chance to Reframe Our Pasts and Script New Futures

There are so many reasons to write our life stories. My last blog listed 20 in fact. But perhaps my personal favorite is the one that the New York Times discussed in a recent article, “Writing Your Way to Happiness.”

Yes, happiness.  According to the article, expressive writing – and rewriting – can bring about greater peace and contentment. When we sit down and pen our stories – putting real thought and attention to the task – we deepen our understanding, we see circumstances anew. Indeed, research shows that “by writing and then editing our own stories, we can change our perceptions of ourselves and identify obstacles that stand in the way of better health.”

The article lists example after example in which study participants flourished after writing about difficult situations: college freshmen who were struggling academically, African American coeds who felt that they didn’t fit in, married couples who were butting heads. In each situation, writing about their predicament yielded growth. Yielded greater happiness.

According to Dr. James Pennebaker, a leader in the personal writing research world, “The idea here is getting people to come to terms with who they are, where they want to go. I think of expressive writing as a life course correction.”

When you look back on your life and put your thoughts into words, you have the chance to reframe the choices you made. You have the chance to understand situations from a more mature perspective. You have the chance to make peace with who are you and create a brighter future.

So yes, as a personal historian, I believe in the importance of preserving family histories, sharing lessons learned with loved ones, and honoring the path you’ve chosen. I believe in those goals passionately in fact. But achieving a more profound happiness? Could there be anything better than that?

Please let me know if I can help.

20 Reasons Why You Should Write Your Family History

Need a reason to write your family history? Here are 20 … courtesy of the New York Public Library, which posted a fantastic blog on this subject last month.

1.            You’ll feel wiser.

2.            First person narratives and family histories are important historical documents.

3.            You are an important person. You have things to pass on, to your children, to your local history society, to unknown future generations.

4.            You and your family are important to somebody, probably many somebodies.

5.            Family trees are abstract. Stories add depth.

6.            Memories over time become fragmented and distorted. People may not remember the things you told them but did not write down.

7.            Writing your family history gives you the chance to depict your ancestors how you see fit.

8.            There is a need for diverse family histories about those who have not been represented well in history texts.

9.            There is a need for more family histories documenting female lines.

10.          There is a need for more family histories about families who are not affluent.

11.          Family histories humanize the people you know or knew and remember for those who did not know them.

12.          Information raises questions. Genealogy research has brought new facts into your life.

13.          It may help you understand your current family dynamics.

14.          It will help you build or solidify a sense of family.

15.          Writing is reflective. Writing is investing in yourself.

16.          It can be therapeutic.

17.          Don’t take for granted that the lives of your ancestors are lost. Evidence of the people they have been exists somewhere and is discoverable.

18.          It will have a wider impact than you might imagine.

19.          Family members and even distant cousins may become more forward in contributing documents, photos, and stories for your genealogical research.

20.          You will be encouraged to archive and preserve the documents on which your family history research is based: certificates, letters, diaries, etc.

And just for extra credit. Number 21: It’s extraordinarily rewarding.

Holding a book that you’ve written on you and your family?

Priceless.

Please let me know if I can help.