When you start out attempting to write a Memoir or call it an Pictorial Autobiography, well all sorts of stuff starts a cropping up in your mind. First it trickles from your mind onto the computer page and then all of a sudden it starts gushing out and there is just no way you can keep up with the constant flow. Well, I turned this sucker on just about a month ago now and in no time I was up to five hundred pages and it keeps on flowing. Some of the stuff is good and some of it is bad and some of it makes me downright uncomfortable. That’s life, good times, bad times and some times when you just don’t think you can get through it.
I’ve opened up so many boxes of photos and matched many of them up with memories and put them down on the screen and sometimes they bounce around like they have a mind of their own. Still I try to be patient and carry on. It seems to be taking some shape. I’m eighty five and so I figured that is eight and a half decades. In those first ten years of my life there were darn few photos. I remember during the depression a man used to come into our neighborhood with a fine looking pony and he would try to persuade our moms to pay his price for a photo of your kids on the pony. I guess we were too poor then because I haven’t found one pony picture yet. There were four of us children, my three sisters and me and my brother Joe came along later. There are so many stories yet to be told and it seems that every time I capture one on paper another comes flying out of my memory and into my imagination.
I’ve already discovered that I have been so blessed to have so many wonderful people come into my life. It makes a fella grateful just to still be alive and to have a memory that is still functioning reasonably well. I’m blessed.