Loved. Lost. Found. The Reading

image: Loved. Lost. Found. the anthologyLast Saturday, nine women and men over the age of 70 gathered in front of a room at Harwood Place in Wauwatosa to share essays and poems they’d written during the past year.

They looked entirely at ease, despite the looming podium and microphone. I, on the other hand, trotted back and forth before the event began, shuffling papers, asking if anyone wanted water, working up a good sweat and rapid pulse. I could have used some of their serenity (even if they were faking it).

But while our levels of anxiety differed and our ages spanned miles apart, there was so much more that connected us that day.

Jacqui Banaszynski says, “Stories are parables. . . . Stories are history. . . . Each one stands in for a larger message…a guidepost on our collective journey.” When people gather together, writers or not, it doesn’t matter where we come from. Our stories–our histories–connect us. Each of us is daughter or son, husband or wife, old hat at this or novice at that. In the essays and poems read from the podium last Saturday, we heard about first loves, found objects, and failed knitting attempts. I am generations apart from the Harwood Place Writers, but I can relate.

This event is one of the highlights of my year and one of the reasons I continue to lead their class. These writers come to the table every month with open minds, tales to share, and a genuine fellowship that begins with a smile.

IMG_3285Congratulations to the Harwood Place Writers on another year of fantastic stories!

 

For Your Wednesday Listening: The Videos are Up.

I’m nearing the end of a two-week vacation, and while I brought notebooks and pens and laptop, little writing has been put to paper. So, today’s post is short and sweet: an invitation.

April 26th feels like ages ago, when I took the stage for the Listen to Your Mother Milwaukee show and shared my story. Today, the LTYM 2014 videos have gone live. Even if you couldn’t make the show in Milwaukee–or in any of the other 31 cities–you can still listen. Here’s the link to mine, “Little Legacies:”

But, don’t stop there. Click HERE to watch all the amazing women in the 2014 LTYM collective.

Thank you again to Alexandra Rosas and Jennifer Gaskell for including me in such a wonderful group.

 

Signed, Sealed, and Delivered: A Writing Prompt

We tell our stories in a myriad of ways–in print, over coffee, in our journals. But, there’s one venue for storytelling that is often overlooked, especially in this digital age where time and limited space might constrain our creativity: the letter.

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The old-fashioned letter provided a space for communion between friends. Upon receiving a letter, one would repair to a place of solitude to read it. to allow the essence of the distant friend to fill up the space. A letter cordoned off a sanctioned area of mind, too, and allowed the lucky recipient to spend a bit of deep time conjuring up the feel of being with a friend.
~ Lia Purpura, “On Miniatures” in The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Writing Flash Nonfiction

Lucky recipient.
The feel of being with a friend.

Sounds like good reading, right?

Letters of Note is a website that recognizes the literary value in letters, posting “fascinating correspondence” from celebrities, politicians, everyday people. And more often than not, those letters tell a story. I love this recent post, “My Dear Son,” in which a father shares a bit of his own history as well as his experience in watching his son walk a similar path:

I think I had never realized before that I was getting old.

Of course I have known that my hair is causing your mother much solicitude. and that l am hopelessly wedded to my pince-nez while reading my daily paper, and at the opera; but in some incomprehensible way I had forgotten to associate these trifles with the encroachments of time. It was the sudden realization that you were about to become a Freshman in the college from which, as it seems to me, l but yesterday graduated, that “froze the genial current of my soul,” and spared you my paternal lecture.

Why, l can shut my eyes and still hear the Ivy Song, as we sang it that beautiful June morning; and yet but a few nights more and you will be locked in the deadly Rush on the same field where I triumphantly received two blackened eyes, and, l trust, gave many more!

Read the rest of the letter HERE (there’s so much more to absorb).

The Prompt

Think about the last time you received a letter. Consider what story you might tell on your own stationary. Or, even on that lined yellow paper. It doesn’t matter, the point is, tell your story. But, here’s the catch: write it in letter form. Then put it in an envelope and seal it.

Maybe you take it to your next critique group, open it, and read it there (after all, this is an essay as much as a letter). Maybe you put a stamp on it and send it right out. Whatever you decide, know that how you write the story adds to way in which it is received:

[T]he unsealing, the unfolding and smoothing out [of a letter], the squinting…the pausing, musing, smiling, the refolding and tucking back in–all of [this adds] to the physicality of reading. ~Lia Purpura

Who doesn’t love a letter?

* Photo credit: krosseel on Morguefile.com