Magical Memoir Moments

The Bedroom Where It All Began: A Truly Magical Memoir Moment

Sometimes a Magical Memoir Moment occurs in less than a second. The way my parents told the story, their first meeting was like that. If either of them had made different choices that fateful day, forty-six people would have very different stories. Or no story at all.

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Things My Father Said: A Message from the Grave

They say that eyes are the windows to the soul. My father’s eyes look different to me in the few pictures I have from his last years. The one below gave me shivers when it appeared last week on Facebook. The photo comes from the 1979 Lititz, Pennsylvania, high school yearbook, The Warrian. Daddy’s last…

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Community or Solitude: Are You Called By Either? Both?

Together or alone? Good writing benefits from both community and solitude. Sometimes a deep experience of one leads to a craving for the other.

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The Longhouse at the Hans Herr Museum.

Before the “White Man” — The Longhouse and Other Stories of Shelter

The Longhouse Project and a little-known, long-ago family story have inspired hope that Native-American and European-American healing may some day be possible.

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Asking for Your Feedback, Friends: How to Improve a Website

Websites can’t remain static. They need to evolve as technology changes and the purpose of the site evolves. I just changed mine and would love some feedback.

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You’ve Got Mail! My Weekly Reader, Pen Pals, and Other Treasures in the Mailbox

I wish my trove of memorabilia included a picture of our old mailbox, because I remember how fast my bare feet could take me there in the summertime. Especially on Fridays when My Weekly Reader arrived. I also loved to get cards, postcards, and letters. I would pore over the pictures, notice the handwriting, and…

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A Gift from the Memory Sea: A Moment Captured in Another Family’s Photo Album

Our neighbors the Martins lived less than a quarter mile away. Sometimes my brother and I rode our bikes down their long lane, hoping to play with the Martin children: Carol, Elaine, Danny and Davy. After I left home for college, I lost touch with the Martins. Carol’s younger sister Elaine came back into my…

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From the Underworld to the Woodcarver: The Power of Changed Metaphor

When I’m visiting the underworld and the way seems long and dark, I need a new metaphor. The wisdom of Parker Palmer often helps me.  As I struggled with mountains of memorabilia in the cellar last week, searching for inspiration while mildew and mold wafted in the air, I was thinking of Persephone, Demeter, Orpheus,…

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Entering the Underworld: Treasure, Moth, Rust, and Corruption

Last September I responded to the question, “Does Blush have a sequel?” with this blog post, selecting “the box in the basement” as my next project. That phrase was a metaphor, of course. I planned to comb through memorabilia, waiting to hear the gentle siren of the muse.  I underestimated the task. Instead of one…

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My Brother the Artist: Uniting Avocation and Vocation

My object in living is to unite My avocation and my vocation As my two eyes make one in sight. Only where love and need are one, And the work is play for mortal stakes, Is the deed ever really done For Heaven and the future’s sakes. –Robert Frost If you’ve read BLUSH, you met…

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