I've decided that as I approach my 65th birthday I should take a stab at writing a memoir. Hey, my life is as unique as anyone's. Well, maybe . . . I didn't suffer abject poverty, rape, or addiction. And my travels didn't take me to Bali for love or to India to pray.
But the circumstances surrounding my birth toward the end of World War II make for quite a dramatic story. (Once a Drama Queen, always a Drama Queen.) And dealing with anti-Semitism for the first time in the girls' bathroom at my new junior high school threw me for a loop. My brother's downward spiral and eventual suicide at age 30 changed my life and the dynamics in my family forever.
And then there was my marriage to the wrong man (I knew I was making a mistake but forged ahead), the birth of my son, several affairs, a divorce, life as a single mother, remarriage . . . Throw in my son's automobile accident that nearly paralyzed him for life, the effect that accident had on my second marriage (it almost ended it!), a seizure that led me to meditation, my burgeoning career as a writer . . . Now, we're getting somewhere.
And if you've been reading my blog, my dear reader, you know that I lost both my parents within 3 weeks of one another and the heartache and challenges their deaths created. In July of this year, we will mark the 2-year anniversary of their deaths. I still miss them terribly.
Anyway, I've signed up for an online memoir writing class led by a seasoned writing professor who has published her own memoir. Am I ready to open my life to strangers? Why not? My friends and family are too through with my stories by now. Stay tuned.
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