Friday, June 22, 2018

Little Story #26

When I write memoir the mommie is going to be part of that story. She was central in my life. My dad not as much. There isn't much to say. My maternal grandparents are a big part of my story since I lived with them for so long. It's something I worry about to some degree. In telling my story I'm telling theirs. Is that fair? Maybe not and maybe they'd have something to say about the way I'm telling it. Memoirists are thieves. If you are friends with or related to a writer be prepared to see yourself on a page.
I tried to draw a line at the aunts, uncles and cousins but they were also very central when I was young. We all gathered at Grandma's house on Sundays after church, on holidays. One set of cousins lived across the street for awhile. In my early years the family grew as Uncle John began his family. I felt myself to be part of a big extended family.
And then.
Uncle John and family moved to Maryland. The mommie and I moved into a small apartment. Grandmom fell on the stairs. She and Poppop went into the Methodist home. One of my maternal aunts died. The mommie and I moved to Maryland. Poppop died and soon after grandmom died. The big family gathering up stopped. There were a few attempts but it just didn't work. It was part of a list of things that happened during my preteen and teen age years.
After church we stopped at Islay's and bought a bunch of chipped ham. Islay's was famous for their chipped ham. We bought Wise potato chips and hamburger buns. That was Sunday lunch with all the cousins. Years later the mommie and I tried to recreate it when we were in Pittsburgh.
But.
You know.
You really can't go home again.

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