Story-Swapping

One of the best way to gather material for memoir is story-swapping. A good memoir is not just one's own story, but a combination and juxtaposition of those who are key to the writer's life. This means we are presented with the challenge of gathering stories from friends and families. Even if you have no intention of writing a memoir, swapping stories is exhilarating and fun for everyone involved. It enables the memoir writer to practice a key element in good writing; being a good listener. I will write more on listening in another post, but today let me simply show rather than tell.

Leigh and I are blessed with great neighbors who have tons of stories to tell about growing up and growing older in Arkansas and Missouri. We also have a great resource for story-swapping in my parents. They are living members of the "Greatest Generation," those who survived WWII and the Great Depression, who loved and lived through some of the hardest and the best times this country has known. In their 80's, there is no time to waste in gathering their memories to keep for my own.

We have a wonderful tradition we keep now that we live in Arkansas. In September, when it is time to celebrate both my dad's and Leigh's birthdays, my parents come to visit from Little Rock to our house in Fayetteville for a few days. On the day we choose to celebrate, we invite our neighbors, Emailee and Hershel down from their house at the front of our long drive, to have cake and coffee with us. Having these four together never fails to turn into a fine story-swapping time for all. (Hint: If it's hard to get your folks to tell their stories, invite another couple close to them in age for coffee or drinks. Then sit back and listen to the tales unfold.)

This year was the year for romance. Mom and Dad talked about their first date. Mom was lured on a blind date by a mutual friend to a park up on Petit Jean mountain. She wore her best pair of new blue jeans, which she reminded us, were not faded and torn for fashion as they are today, but truly blue. The two couples went for a walk and came to a creek. Mom did not want to get her feet wet, so Dad volunteered to carry her across. He lifted her easily, but when he got to the middle, he dropped her in the water. I know my dad thought this was hilarious, but if you knew my mom, you would know that she would not find this funny. Later her legs were dyed blue from the deep, dark dye of new denim. How he ever got her to go on another date is beyond me (although he was certainly a handsome devil). No wonder it took them two years to get married.

Emily met Hershel at church. She was not shy, she said, and pursued him outright, asking his cousin to tell her everything he could about the handsome young man. The next time she saw him in church, she approached him and basically told him, "you're the one for me." They were married in 3 months. Emailee was 16 years old while Hershel had already reached the ripe old age of 21. He seemed quite proud that he had "robbed the cradle."

They told of other dates as well; how Mom tricked Dad and stayed in town to catch him at a dance with another girl. She said "she drove him crazy dancing with other guys" that night. How Mom went to New Orleans right after they got engaged and danced all night with several good-looking fellas. It was a well-known fact that she could really "cut a rug." She couldn't quite remember what she did with her new engagement ring while she was partying the whole night long.

As always, it was a delightful evening. Their stories were full of love and romance from a different time. These men still open the car doors for their wives. They are protective and loving without condescension towards their beloveds. Yet, we all know who cooks the great food that keeps those smiles on their faces, who nurses them back to health when they're ill, who brings out the best in them. The poor times weren't felt so harshly when people were happy--something we all would do well to remember when going through our own hard times. These beautiful people from an older generation remind us that love has always made the world go 'round.

After a weekend of visiting with our neighbors, celebrating two birthdays, fishing with my folks and swapping stories with all of them, I feel lucky to have been born to these beautiful people from Arkansas and to have spent some of the truly great days of my childhood right here in these hills. Then to have moved here right down the dirt road from such great neighbors who love to talk about what it was like "back in the day," well, I know this time was meant to be. May I continue to swap stories with these fine neighbors and my parents, making the most of the moment, as my dad would say, "as long as the Lord allows."