An Introduction or maybe just a Hello
A while ago, within two weeks, nine people told me that
I should write down my stories. That was very flattering.
Perhaps they were the universe telling me to do just that.
And who doesn’t like to tell stories about themselves?
This collection of stories has become a memoir, which is
to say, me telling stories I remember.
I see many of my stories are about my feelings, about me,
but maybe not biographical. Of course, you’ll be able to
glean some biography, some family history, but I’ve tried
to avoid it.
Nevertheless, I have done my best to fact check my
stories, and make them as true as possible.
They are all true. I hope they are also the Truth.
There is a printed version of this memoir. Ask, and if any
remain, you might get one. For this interweb site I've
rewritten a bit, added here and there, and included a few more
stories. I have tried to keep track of the changes
and listed them in an addendum.
Avoiding an autobiography means leaving out so
many people I love.
If I left you out, don't be offended, In the book of
life we are chapters in one another’s stories.
Warning, you will find some biography.
Over the years I have been told by people who are listening,
that my stories don't actually reveal a lot about me.
That may be true. I know about me, I am much more
interested in other people's stories, and I was listening.
Some of these stories are important to me. Some are
experiences that changed my life. Some are just good stories.
Unpleasant experiences are important, but I found I have left
most of those out.
Certain very happy memories fill me with sadness,
I’ve omitted those, too.
As you go through these stories, don’t feel you should read
it as a novel, jump around. I’ve linked here and there to other
stories. If a story needs a little background you might find I
will repeat myself a little. If this repetition annoys you,
forgive me. Some stories did get repeated, but slightly
differently.
Where you will find the most repetition is about my illness
when I was 8. Many of my stories begin by reminding you of
that year. My life has echoed from that time.
Writing these stories, this review of stories, hasn’t been all
fun. There is often good reason to forget.
Some memories of pain I didn’t want to include, but some
pestered to be told.
Like the last bit of an almost remembered unpleasant dream.
Little eyes staring from the corner.
As I started writing these stories, I noticed that many of these
stories are the kind I would have liked to have heard from the
generation before me, those who are now gone. What were
the details about that story that I missed as a child? Who is that in that photograph? Why did that happen?
I hope some of those questions will be answered for you here.
A few of these stories I’ve never told,
because there was no reason to tell them.
You might remember a story differently. Let me know.
You will find stories you remember. I hope you find
some that entertain.
If there is another volume you will find more about
my children, biography, my cousins, rants about philosophy,
politics, opinions, and religion. But don’t count on another
volume.
I haven't indulged in modesty. All modesty is false.
I think if someone displays modesty, they have to first
assume that there is something better to be modest about.
Deceptive bull crap.
If I was with you telling you one of these stories, I
would tell each fully, or maybe tailored to the situation.
But here I've had to edit for space.
"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself,
I am large, I contain multitudes."
Walt Whitman
Outro