Monday, December 15, 2014

Tell me a Story Week 12 15 14


Time for a True Story with a new format


 I will be telling one of my true stories usually from one of my three books.
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Memories

 
My earliest recollections are measured by where I lived during different spans of time.

Ages three and four were when we lived in Exeter, California, prior to our move to Oakland.  I remember Mother washing clothes in an old wash tub in the yard and hanging them out to dry on a line.  She used one of those old fashioned wash rub boards to get out the spots and make sure everything was clean.  The outhouse was vivid in my memory, but I was very tiny, and a small potty chair graced the back porch just for me. 

I had just turned three, and I remember banging on the bedroom door, and demanding to see my mother when my sister was born.  My Aunt Edna told me that I could not see her because my mother was sick.  Refusing to be denied, I screamed and yelled, “I want my Mama,” until my aunt finally allowed me a short visit.  Mother smiled at me, and reached out to give me a gentle hug, and then she asked me to please obey my aunt, so I did. 

Even though my mother had two other babies, she found time to rock me, and sing to me for my nap.  Although I was three years old, and closed my eyes, I remember thinking, “I will pretend that I am asleep and trick mama.”  Mother thought I was asleep so she quietly carried me to my bed, except by the time she laid me down I was out like a light. 

Having just celebrated my fifth birthday, I watched as Mother packed an ironing board and two boxes of kettles and dishes.  Then I went along with her to the train station to ship them off to Oakland where I would eventually grow up and attend school.   

There was perhaps only days, when I, my brother Allen, and my sister Zelma slept on the floor on a mattress at Uncle Cliff and Aunt Beulah’s home while our parents searched out a rental house.  That year living in the rent house cemented age five in my memory.  The move after that was to a home purchased by my parents and it held all my childhood memories until I married, and left home at age 18. 

At the urging of our foster daughter Nancy, for several years, I have been documenting memories from my childhood; remembrances from my children growing up; and other golden memories.  It was time to get those stories into a book. 
 
There were so many stories enough for three books.  Contact me if you would like to purchase copies.  Each book is $10 which includes postage to USA.

Time marches, on and today is the day to rescue YOUR memories, and not allow them to fade into the distance.  Begin now to write your memoirs.  Go ahead and post and save them. 

2 comments:

  1. What a treasure your memories are for your daughter. Sharing my stories on my blog are my gift to my girls and granddaughters too. I never grew tired of hearing my mom's stories especially of how she fell in love with my dad.

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  2. Precious memories, Hazel! And I'm impressed that you can remember things from when you were 3! I have some vague memories when my brother was born - I was also 3. But, though I can't remember this - I know that I invited Jesus into my life at that age. I know it was real, for ever since then I have felt Him in my heart.

    Good advice to start writing down some memories. And you've made me think that I might spend some time with my mom reminiscing.

    GOD BLESS!

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