Legacy. Linda Spence
we round the hall corner, we’ll race. Amelia is waiting.
This brief remembrance doesn’t give a full picture of her grandmother, but later, she went on to write quite a different picture of her from the perspective of a twenty-one-year-old. The writing kindled a new desire to know more about her grandmother and the life she had led. In writing your Legacy, you have opportunities to comment and reflect on subjects and people in several different ways, so as whole a picture as you know and remember emerges.
Writing on one subject will often bring other memories to mind. Jot a note in the margin and come back to those thoughts later. A man writing about a Thanksgiving remembered his uncle arriving in a new car, the only car in their family. Later, going back to the memory of the car, he saw himself sitting in the back seat—traveling on a special summer trip to a lake, to his aunt’s funeral, and to his high school graduation. All these glimpses revealed rich details of his family and his youthful dreams.
Details may seem uninteresting or insignificant to you, but they are important. Pay attention to them. Your reader will find them more meaningful than general descriptions. If you write statements such as “I always felt comfortable with my Aunt Louise” or “I didn’t like to be alone,” take yourself further with those thoughts, tell us why. “What did Aunt Louise do, what was it about her that made me like to be around her?” “What was I feeling when I was alone, what did I think would happen?” If you feel uncertain about some of what you are recalling, begin those writings with the phrase, “As best as I can remember . . .” Let your writing reflect the search in your mind: “I just remembered . . .” or “Now another thought occurred to me.”
Legacy Questions
Legacy questions make it easier. There are a lot of them, each having distinct and sometimes subtle differences. Notice how they draw from you your fullest story. Sometimes you’ll cover two or three questions in the same writing piece. You may find yourself hopping between sections, but you’ll find their chronological arrangement supports both clarity and recall. If you try the first few questions and are still hesitating, choose any question from any section that sparks a memory. Start there. Once you get rolling, you can always go back to the beginning. You choose which ones you’re ready for and how much you want to write. As you write, include a reference to the question. Avoid giving one-word answers. You’ll leave everyone in the dark! Remember that your reader wants to know not only what happened but how you felt about it at the time.
Along the way, you’ll be nudged and encouraged by quotes from authors with whom you may be familiar, and you’ll also meet people I have known or met over the last ten years who have been willing to share excerpts from their own memories and Legacy writings. Their stories have always moved me to want to hear more, and to encourage more people to write their personal histories—for all the reasons we’ve talked about here, and more. Just the other day, when I read back the words of my seventy-four-year-old friend describing her relationship with her husband, she sat quietly for a moment and then said, “I feel as if I have found a new language.”
Now You’re Writing!
Write in your natural style of speaking. Your own language gives the truest story. Remember, some of the people reading your Legacy will never know you, so your own writing will be the only conversation they ever have with you. Write a little every day, or at least consistently. You’ll begin to find your rhythm. Remember, you’re giving us your story, not necessarily creating a literary classic! Put your internal critic on hold and keep writing!
Occasionally you may get stuck. When that happens, look deeply into photographs or handle an object connected to the time or person you are trying to describe. Read some old letters, look through a yearbook, or listen to music connected to a certain time. Concentrating on one stage of your life at a time will stir up rich details and feelings. You may well stay with one stage for weeks. Be sure to go back later to some of the questions you skipped. You may be ready to include them. But by no means should you feel that you must answer all the questions in a section; this is your story, and Legacy questions are intended only as guides to recording what you remember as significant in your life experience.
Think about the things in your life and what they meant to you. Houses, toys, cars, books, special gifts received and given, are not merely material objects but repositories of memories often rich with emotional significance.
Now look back with tenderness and courage and write from your heart, and perhaps someone, someday, will find what he or she needs to live life with more understanding, compassion, confidence, and acceptance.
How to Read Legacy
One more point. In Legacy, I use “standard terms”: parents, mother, father, grandparents, grandchild, children, marriage. Don’t take me too literally.
When I say parents, please ask yourself, “Who raised me?” Maybe it wasn’t your mother . . . or your father. Use the questions to write about those you consider to be your parents. When I say grandparent, you may think of an important older person. Perhaps your grandparent was someone else, grandparent-like ?
Many people who have not raised their own children have played important and loving roles in the lives of children. Use the sections on “Being a Parent” and “Being a Grandparent” to write about these relationships. The same is true for any standard or conventional term for relationships—adapt them to fit your life.
“Marriage” refers to any enduring couple relationship.
When Legacy refers to a specific experience or place, you may have experienced several. Include them all—homes, marriages, schools, jobs, etc.
Remember, Legacy is about your life! Make Legacy work for you.
To my mother, Laura, who wondered what to write, to my sister, Pam, who knew the worth of Mother’s memories, to my daughter, Laura, who has always asked the questions.
Beginnings and Childhood
As a child, I had to dig to get stories from my parents’ childhoods, and the results were scanty. I pestered my mother, “Where did you ride your horses?” “Oh, I’d just ride.” Then I tried my dad, “Did you wear cowboy boots? Could you twirl a lasso?” Amused chuckle. “Well, did you? Could you?” “Don’t reckon so.” Big smile. A man of few words, and ‘reckon’ not one of them, he was in no rush to dash my fantasies about a life on horseback.
Often I chose the wrong times to ask, but I learned that my mother didn’t enjoy revisiting her childhood. Many years later, I found a way of drawing out her early years and as we shared her fun and tender memories she also told the stories that made it clear why she didn’t eagerly revisit those years. To my good fortune, she and my dad changed the rules and set out to give their children the kinds of memories they would gladly revisit. My grown children still prod, “Hey, Mom, tell us about the time when the frogs got loose in the car and when Uncle Roddy dyed the dinner blue.”
As we move through our lives, we carry with us the stories of our childhood. We may change them, forget or deny them, smile or cry over them, but, like charms or spells, they bring back a sense of who we were and how we came to be the people we’ve become.
Philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau said “nature wants children to be children.” As children, we were just being, while at the same time we were well into our journey of becoming. A very young friend told me once, “You know one of the best things about being a kid? Even if you’re not having fun or you’re really mad, you know that some things will happen that can make you feel good. Like pretty soon I’ll be able to ride a two-wheeler. Right now, I can go frontwards but I can’t turn. And next summer when I go swimming, I’ll open my eyes under water. Last summer I was scared to, but I’m practicing