Showing posts with label The Memoir Maker™. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Memoir Maker™. Show all posts

Monday, March 12, 2018

Chapter by Chapter: Progeny


This essay was originally written on February 25, 2015. Mindful of her upcoming masters program graduation, the timeline from pre-k to now has been straight and narrow. She said she would, so she did. I often hesitate to take credit for any portion of her spiritual and human existence, other than my DNA, but when I fail to do so, she does not. She's always saying, "Thank you, Mom!" But for...

... the first 21 years of her life, through no fault of their own (or mine), she and her 97 year old paternal great grandmother never met.. Never exchanged photos. Never wrote letters to each other.  Never called each other. Never visited on holidays. Never ever knew each other until July 2014. Missing each other with as many as 2 - 15 states between them, from Mississippi to New England; her father never wanted the inevitable connection to be.

Sadly, great grandmother passed away a few days ago and was buried last Saturday. Having made a profoundly spiritual connection with her great grandmother, it gave her a tremendous sense of peace, and me a tremendous sense of pride, that her dad's family notified my daughter and flew her out for the service. 

But their lost time of the past two decades was made up for when favorite stories were shared about how the woman with good powers compelled generations of her family to higher education and personal accomplishment. And if there weren't any other lessons my daughter could glean from being heir to this legacy, she could not escape the fact that she and great grandmother, whose life work was about assisting people out of the tireless and depressing behaviors of deep south and post slavery poverty -- were actually.. kindred spirits.

Bringing about the inevitable conclusion to the question of why my kid, of the class of 2012, with her flair for the dramatic, suddenly decided to decline art school, to delve into college studies of personal finance and public policy?  Answer:  So she could... assist people out of the tireless and depressing behaviors of modern poverty.  That's why.

Wow.

At first, when my daughter switched colleges, I was very concerned for her. I believe that art is a spiritual occupation. And people who put themselves on a spiritual path for a living, will love their lives and feel productive and happy and used of God - for the rest of their lives. You don't master theater, front stage and back for six years to go to college & research society, government entities, to have a career analyzing and making policies, enacting laws and allocating resources!  .... Do you?

--Well.. I've long since accepted my daughter's masters and doctoral choice, but I rejoiced to learn about great grandmother from my daughter and realize that providence had a greater deal to do with it after all.

I mean, how else does it happen outside of fiction that a person's genes gets to determine their interests, and superpowers or even their moral alignment?  When my daughter signed up for college, she didn't know anything about her father's grandmother.. or much about the field that she's studying in college right now.  And when the art school folks rubbed her the wrong way, another school came a-callin'..  where she discovered this new occupation for herself...

The rest is her-story.

But the question for me is, will my daughter and her offspring turn out to be more like them (his family line) than me?  His family's got a burial plot that reads back five generations, and every deceased dad has his wife next to him, and they all have the same last name.  I am not that fortunate to have a lineage of progenitors that lived together til they died.  -That I know of.  But my daughter is, and I guess that's all that matters in this story, where two people unbeknownst to each other, straddled time literally and genetically to meet and have the same idea about how to live their lives with the same sense of purpose.

Kind of amazing.


And that brings me to you:  As a spiritual being having a human experience, you've lived a profound journey as you have traveled through and explored this planet with your life.  Now you may be ready to write it all down to pass it all down.  If you're feeling lost or disoriented with the process of writing, or pulling together what you've written to form a published journal or memoir that has meaning and purpose, I might be able to help you find your story, then write and publish your story.  Please reach out to me via my contact page.


                                 






| This photo  & prose by Jackie D. Rockwell | All Rights Reserved © 2008-2018 |

Sunday, December 3, 2017

Chapter by Chapter: Life is good and then you die. Write Your Life. Tell The Whole Truth. Leave Nothing Out.

Remember the time you were homeless for about 6 months? You couch surfed for 3, then moved into a boarding house of unrelated vagabonds worst off than you, all of whom were on some kind of spectrum.. of autism, horniness and hypocritically ingenious, cooking garlic ramen stir-fried folly shit every single night, stinking up the place? The only thing missing was the carrying on of Bill and Nanny Crosby of Lackawanna Blues..  You wanted to leave but you stayed. There was some comfort in the stability of a refrigerator. Filthy as it was.  You could not believe it when you finally landed your perfect hard skills albeit temp keeper job, only to be allergic to the dust the electrical crew was kicking up, and the freezing cold air temperature near your cubicle. You kept asking yourself with every complaint, "Do I wanna quit?" The answer was clearly "Hell yes! But I can't." until your misery convinced you otherwise. They didn't reject your unemployment claim, but that was the moment you started smoking again, like Peter Jennings on September 11th. Except your terror was POTUS Trump imposed. If something was going to kill you sooner than WWIII, it might as well be cigarettes you couldn't afford.  So now, in your begging and hunger game again, you rip-off fruit from the Whole Foods kiddie take-1 wagon. Having no pot of your own to piss in anymore, you pop squats behind Jack-in-the-Box and shock college girls walking by -into giving up hamburger meat for life. And when one of them dials 9-1-1, you drop everything and run run run! Photo attached of what you left behind. 

All I'm trying to say here in this mini fiction is, the power of your homelessness or any other extreme and negative adventure you've experienced in life, is in the details of remembrance.  I know you have may have chosen to forget these painful circumstances, and dredging them up without getting the shakes makes it not something you want to share with gladness.

But if you're so inclined to be specific, to share your extraordinary struggle in at least one chapter of your memoir, my writing will give the truth you want to tell, the dignity of a name.  Yours.  

Let me know. Your heart is my art. Reach me via the email on my Bio page.





| Photos & Prose by Jackie D. Rockwell |All Rights Reserved © 2008-2017,- 2022 |