Monday, October 5, 2020

THROUGH OTHER EYES

Over the years several people have suggested that I write my life story.  Seems like a common thread... so many of my peers also have stories to tell, as or more colorful than my own, but all interwoven threads.  I always thought that maybe it wasn't such a good idea since I am not good with criticsm.  It's part of the reason I took an exit left of the nightlife world to embrace what an old boyfriend referred to, as provincial.



Never could have children, so much of what would have made me "provincial" went out the window in that bucket of dreams.  But I wanted to return to a simpler life anyway, and still am working toward a cottage on a small farm away from the city.  Not to abandon all that I've known, but to enhance that which will make me happy.  Also a common thread... many of us have already done that with an eye to the fact that we have already led such full lives that there is little to look back and say, "wish I had done that".  We did.

But still, the idea of writing it all down has taken several decades to germinate, and now I find that I am finally writing it down.  But I've noticed that I seem to be writing my life story through the stories of those around me.  So is it a presumption of who I am through their eyes?  Or who they are through my own?  Or some combination of both?

Maybe the point of it all, is just to write it down.  I'll think about it later.  xoxo



06.|. Discovering New York City

I have an early and highly visual memory of staying with my grandmother in Forest Hills, where she lived in a great big white brick building...