Writing a memoir sounds a bit narcissistic, or, at the very least, presumptuous. Cool people write memoirs. People who are famous or think they are, write memoirs. Those realities press upon me as I entertain the idea of writing a personal memoir. One might ask, “Who do you think you are?”
Well, that is precisely the problem. I’m not famous and suffer no illusions about that. Neither am I cool, except, perhaps, to a couple of grandchildren who are not old enough to know better.
I’m not a nobody but I am somebody. Even though today I am somebody, however insignificant or significant, in a few decades or more, I will be a nobody. In all likelihood the only evidence of my past existence will scattered ashes. A quote from Anne Lamott on my website header may be the best reason I have for writing a memoir.
“You are going to feel like hell if you never write the stuff that is tugging on the sleeves of your heart — your stories, visions, memories, visions and songs. Your truth, your version of things, your own voice. That is really all you have to offer us. And that’s also why you were born.”
In the end, the only thing I have offer is my story, for good or ill. It is my desire that my children and the generations to follow have the opportunity to know that story. It may not be a great story but there is no other story like it in all of history.
Perhaps, writing my memoir is nothing but a desperate attempt to resist the inevitability of anonymity? Regardless, I believe it’s worth the trip.
