Why write a memoir?

As I sit here in my home office, writing my first entire book, I can’t help but think of my mom. A framed newspaper photo and story about her hangs on the wall behind me, and the three books she authored are on a floating shelf above my computer screen.

Today I’m writing about legacy—appropriate on so many fronts. Part of Mom’s legacy is that she was an author, a nationally syndicated newspaper columnist, writing advice to the lovelorn and more.

This week I ran across her autobiography….

…words that she had recorded for us on audiotape six years before she died. I transcribed those tapes five years after her death. It was her request that I not listen until she was gone. It took me a while to be ready to hear her voice and complete the transcription. That was in 2004.

I felt rather guilty that I didn’t pass it along to my siblings at that time. I kept thinking I would retype it, clean it up, and make it more readable. Honestly, I was in a very busy period of my life, running a business and enjoying my grown children starting their new lives. To be honest, I couldn’t remember exactly where I saved the computer file!

Wednesday afternoon, while looking for another document, I found it.

I spent nearly all of that day reading it again—this time without having to stop and start while transcribing. I could barely breathe. I cried, I laughed, and I listened so much more carefully.

She had a very tough first 15 years. She was 77 when she recorded these memories, and was able to express how blessed she was to have overcome her past, risen above the pain, and create a new and much better life. What resilience. Her stories helped me know her better, 26 years after her death. Interesting that knowing her better helps me know myself better.

Remarkable.

They say timing is everything.

The fact that I would be writing about legacy this week and run across my mother‘s legacy story, the parts of her early life we would never have known had she not told us on audiotape—that’s no accident. Its devine.

We are all a much bigger package than most people know us to be. Very few knew us from the time we were born. My mother and father did. My siblings did, but only from a kid’s point of view. Everyone who meets us only knows a small segment of our life. I actually think that’s why it’s amazing to hear the stories about people at their memorial, memories shared by others who were involved in different parts of a person‘s life. Family, friends, spouse, children, co-workers— they all have a different vantage point.  Together, their memories complete the story.

Here’s why I think it’s important to write your memoir.

Who we were as children forms much of who we become as adults, one way or another. If our childhood was hard or bad, then we learned from the mistakes of others and hopefully changed our direction and became better people. From the memoirs of our ancestors, the stories passed down, we learn about the traditions in our family, our heritage, good habits and bad — both of which become part of our legacy. By understanding the past of our parents and grandparents, we may be able to halt cycles of abuse, addictions, lack of education, or even failed marriages. We may also learn to strive to be all we can be, because our great-great grandfather did that, and if he could do that, during the hardest of times, then so can I. 

Our family is blessed that both our parents left evidence of themselves for us to read in words or to see in photographs. Having an author-mom and photographer-dad helps.

We are all part of a legacy. It’s good to know where you came from because it says much about where you’ve landed. You don’t have to be terribly successful, ridiculously rich, or even famous to write about the life you’ve lived. It matters.

It matters to those who come after us.

And don’t say you’ll do it someday because someday is really not a day. Today is a good day to start writing your life story.

PS: My mom never, ever looked like she did in that photo, sitting at her computer. On her writing days, she wasn’t in a gorgeous maroon dress with a matching scarf, wearing the perfect red lipstick. She was typically in a frumpy moo moo, her hair uncombed, and no makeup on. She got dressed up for this publicity picture (which dad took). And let me tell you… she was wearing a wig. She often wore wigs for a photo shoot or when she went out, because she never wanted to do her hair.

Yesterday, while going through some old boxes, I (no kidding) found a wig I bought some time ago… a tasseled, short and sassy look. I never wear wigs…probably had this for a costume. I put it on today for this picture. Yes, I am wearing a wig. Mom would be horrified that I’m not wearing lipstick.

This article was first published by Sue on her facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/suzannepeppersauthor. It has been republished here for your enjoyment.