What's My Story...

 My baby will be 16 in 2 months. They announced to me – in all seriousness – that what they want from me for their 18^th birthday is for me to write my life story for them to read, Huh?!?  I’ve been rattling off my old lady tales to my kids since they arrived and there’s never been any interest, Why now?

Further, how the heck do I do that? Yes, I’m a writer who writes but I don’t write my own story. I just live it. I’m not standing back, observing and taking notes. I’m busy living! Also, I’ve lived many different stories during my time on earth.  Which one do I tell?

 

I’ve always said that I’m not interesting. I’m interesting by proxy – meaning that I’ve often found myself in times and places where interesting things may have happened but I’ve always considered myself an observer in those situations. I’m rarely a participant.

I suppose that to begin at the beginning, I’d have to talk about my family, It’s well known that it’s large. That’s not unusual for the place and time. I came into a Germen Catholic Midwestern town. I was baby number nine in eleven years but my family certainly wasn’t the biggest on the block. My parents were too young for all of that – again, not unusual for the time and place – and they split when I was two.

That shifts focus to my mother and her wonderful family. Suddenly single, my mother went straight to work in a variety of roles. She had secretarial skills so she was chased around the desk by lecherous military officers at the airforce base. She was beautiful and a dancer so she modeled and taught dance. She and her mother both worked happily at the neighborhood library.

My grandparents were amazing role models and we loved to spend time with them learning. Learning to be kind humans, learning the value of hard work, learning to read when teachers gave up on some of us, and learning to shape our own routes when roadblocks arose. They were two of the smartest, kindest, warmest role models we could have and I’m so grateful for every second I had with them.

At home, I had six big brothers and two big sisters who included me in everything they did. When the boys were building giant club houses in the back yard, I handed them the nails. When my oldest brother left home to be a musician, he dragged us all along. My big sister dragged me along on some great adventures. Another brother included me on his path into the bluegrass world. Bill Monroe didn’t understand why that little girl wanted to see his tour bus, but he showed me around anyway. I had my own bed but I was more often than not snuggled up with a sibling in theirs. Bottom line was that we loved each other, we LIKED each other and spent as much time together as possible. So yes, there are stories to tell.

Moving forward, I relocated several times and had my own adventures. My careers have taken me to interesting places, meeting interesting people, doing interesting things. Over the years, my jobs have taken me to some beautiful (and some awful) places that all reside in my memory. I’ve crossed paths with some amazing characters and had magical moments with them all.  But I always came home to the safety of my family.

One day, I went to see Bo Diddley and was so impressed with the opening act that I emailed the band address to say how great they were. Little did I know, I was emailing my future husband/father of my children/partner in many adventures. That’s where the story shifted and new characters were introduced.

I don’t think I can write this story. There are so many sharp turns and plot twists that no reader would be able to follow. Yes, I’ve done a lot. Yes, I’ve shaken hands with greatness, yes, I’ve been in the room while amazing things happened but my book would require several volumes, the movie would require many sequels, and there are so many different vantage points that make it not entirely my story to tell.

I think I’ll just summarize by saying I’m enjoying the trip so far.