Memoir Tip: Look At Old Magazines

I've blogged  about how your stuff  and a bridge can be a memoir. But as I was reading a Family Circle letter to the editor , I thought of something else. 

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The Iconic Photo

I once found a photo tucked inside a book at an estate sale. The photo showed a Model T in ruins, destroyed by what looked like a head-on collision. The photo jumped out at me. I took it the man, about my age, who was running the garage sale. His mother had just died and he was selling the contents of her house. I handed him the photo. "This looks important," I said.

He stood transfixed, staring at the photo. "Mother told us about that crash. Both she and Dad survived it. But I never knew if the story was true."

My mother-in-law, Maxine (Shanbar) Marshall, has an iconic memoir photo. Her photo shows an apartment building (not hers) being moved from its location near Poplar Street in Chelsea, Massachusetts. The reason? The construction of The Mystic River Bridge (now the Tobin Memorial Bridge).

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Why not make your memoir writing easier? Why not organize it around an iconic photo?

Lucinda Mock's Ginger Cookie Recipe

Here’s another recipe memoir. Lucinda was my grandmother’s grandmother, so her recipe for ginger cookies is probably the oldest family heirloom we have. I made these cookies one Thanksgiving. In spite of the fact that they are not as rich as the cookies we are used to eating today, the high school kids gobbled them up. Lucinda Frances (Locke) Mock lived from 1846 to 1940.

Lucinda Mock’s Ginger Cookie Recipe by Martha Jewett

Memory Triggers

Seeing a mom and pop store on a corner is a memory trigger for me. The other day, I noticed the corner GE appliance store in nearby Caldwell, New Jersey, has windows full of “going out of business” signs. That triggered a memory for me of the corner candy store across from my elementary school in Schenectady, New York.

 

It was a candy and comic book store which catered to us kids. The first time I bought myself a treat–all by myself–was in that store. It was probably a Milky Way bar. I remember saving up coins from my allowance, taking them to school, crossing the street, and going into the store. Buying the candy was something to look forward to at dismissal time at 2:50.

 

 

Several years ago, I was in Schenectady and found my old school by accident. At that time, the store, which looked like a bodega, was still there. But it’s gone now. The display windows are boarded up. It seems to be just a home now.

 

 

Things change, but sensory triggers bring back memories. Music is a memory trigger. Tastes and sounds are too. When my husband, Evan Marshall, smells honeysuckle, he thinks of the terrible allergies he had as a kid.

 

 

What are your memory triggers? It’s easy to miss them, so keep some paper with you. Write them down. (“Seeing that store reminds me of…”) Even if you’re not sure, write it down. Keep the piece of paper in your pocket.