Nice Day for a White Wedding

An email about Lilly Friedman’s parachute wedding dress is making the rounds again. The email is un-credited, or I would attribute the source, but I can confirm that Lilly Friedman’s wedding dress is for real and is exhibited at The Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C.

 

Over 60 years ago, Lilly (Lax) Friedman was a DP (displaced person) in Bergen Belsen Displaced Person’s camp. Lilly had survived Auschwitz, a forced labor camp, a death march, and Bergen Belsen itself. In 1946, when Lilly Lax and Ludwig Friedman decided to marry, Ludwig bartered two pounds of coffee beans and a couple of packs of cigarettes for a German parachute. With the help of a seamstress, Lilly created the white wedding gown she was determined to have when she and Ludwig stood under the chuppah (wedding canopy). Many other DP brides borrowed Lilly’s dress. How many? “I stopped counting after 17,” says Lilly. For these women, the dress symbolized a return to normalcy after the Holocaust. Lilly’s father and her two brothers were exterminated immediately upon arriving at Auschwitz. Lilly and two sisters survived and live near each other now in Brooklyn, NY.

 

As a friend of mine said, “Amazing that she kept the dress.” That’s something I would have done. I still have the kippah (yarmulke) from the first bar mitzvah I ever went to. Do you have a beloved object you’ve kept all these years because of what it means to you? Perhaps an item of clothing, a watch, a medal, or a souvenir? Why not write a memoir about it? Write down “who, what, when, where, why, and how.” Where did you get it? Who made it? What does it mean to you? Tell its story. Lilly’s parachute wedding dress is a great example of an object with a story to tell. What is your parachute wedding dress?

My parachute wedding dress is an apron that belonged to my paternal great-great grandmother, Martha Anne (Moore) Gott (born 12-25-1834 died 3-9-1917, age 82). A few years ago, I was given Martha's apron on a family visit to the Gotts in Montrose, Colorado (my late father’s cousin, the late Max Gott, and wife, Darlene Gott). Darlene gave it to me and said, “Her name was Martha. You should have this.”

 

I want to preserve the apron and possible display it, but don’t know how. Any ideas? Let me know.

 

Saying “No” to a One-Act Existence

Frank McCourt, author of Angela’s Ashes, died over the weekend. Our friend, Robert Siegel, M.D., studied English with McCourt in a New York City public high school. I remember Robert saying McCourt was supportive, engaging, and fun. As a teacher, he spent time to give a little extra to his students, took them out, got to know them. As Hillel Italie said of Angela’s Ashes in today’s AP obituary, the 1996 book was “perhaps the ultimate case of the non-celebrity memoir.” But underneath its Irish charm,  Angela’s Ashes was an expression of defiance. ”I refused to settle for a one-act existence,” said McCourt. He set out to write about his past, but would not let himself be bound by it. He went on–after 30 years of teaching–to describe his childhood in a book that has been published in 25 languages, in 30 countries, selling millions of copies, winning the Pulitzer Prize. Angela’s Ashes was the beginning of a long and successful second act. An ordinary man, an extraordinary memoir.

My passion is helping everyday people write their personal memoirs. I expect most of these memoirs will be self-published, distributed to family and friends. Unfortunately, times have changed since McCourt published Angela’s Ashes and unless you’re a celebrity, you probably won’t get your memoir published by a commercial publisher. (That’s what so great about all the print-on-demand, self-publishing options, which I will write more about in subsequent blogs).

Frank McCourt taught us that we are all ordinary. But our memoirs can be extraordinary. If you  limit the scope of your memoir to a small topic (e.g., dad’s hearing aids), if you write honestly (it made you mad when he turned them off during fights with your mother), and if you include descriptions of concrete details (his hearing aids used to have a wire going over his head like a headband), your memoir can make the ordinary extraordinary. That’s because no one perceives the world exactly as you do.

Here’s to ordinary people writing extraordinary memoirs. And to saying “no” to a one-act existence. Do you think your memoir will be an act of defiance? Let me know.

Lost in Transliteration

When I moved to Japan, my name changed to Maa-sa Jyu-e-tto, and was written in katakana (not Roman letters), the alphabet reserved for foreign words imported into Japanese. Out of deference to the exigencies of Japanese, I (mis)pronounced my name the way the Japanese did. [Read more...]

Close Encounters of the Animal Kind

When it comes to close encounters of the animal kind, you don’t have to be Captain “Sully” Sullenberger to have had one. Our friend Frank was accosted by a swan which didn’t leave him alone until he punched it in the beak. I’ve had two deer encounters, both of which were close calls. In the first, if I had been a foot ahead of where I was walking, the buck would have landed on me and might have killed me. In the second, a deer came out of nowhere one warm November night and struck my car, smashing my driver’s-side mirror, door, and window. At first, all I saw was a dark shape. I thought I had killed someone. If it had landed on my windshield, I might have lost control of the car.  Close calls that turned out well. But what if?

What close encounters of the animal kind have you had? Were they funny? Scary? Why not write a memoir about it?

Let me know how it goes.

A Virtual Walk Home from School

The other day, I walked home from my elementary school. Virtually. Using Google Street View.

I went to Google Maps and entered the school address.

I clicked on the Red Balloon on the map, the symbol for the look-up address. A box appeared including a link to Street View. (Street View isn’t always available.) I clicked on Street View and a street-view photo of the school appeared. I felt like I was standing looking at the school. In the photo, a compass appears in the upper left-hand corner which allows you to see a 360-degree view. You can turn around and get your bearings by clicking on the compass–to orient yourself and figure out which way to go. Street names appear in white in the middle of the street, along with arrows indicating the direction you are facing on the street. When I clicked on the arrows, it was as though I was walking down the street.

Then I started walking home.

I went to the side of the school to the street I walked home virtually. From there, I clicked the arrows all the way home.

You don’t have to rely on your memory with so much information available. That makes memoir writing much easier.

Here are ways to use Google Street View when you are writing a memoir:

1. To refresh your memory about your neighborhood used to look like.  

2. To see what the neighborhood looks like now. How much has it changed? How much is it the same?

3. To get the look and feel of walking around (a great memory trigger).

4. To compare your adult memory against your childhood memories. How has your perspective changed?

5. To see the street signs and street names again. What associations do they bring up?

What have you found that you never believed you’d be able to find? Drop me a line.

The Person Behind the Photo

Yesterday, we visited the Jewish Community Center of MetroWest in Whippany, New Jersey, to see “Family by Family,”  an exhibit of multi-generational family portraits of Jewish families from Newark, New Jersey. I was sorry there was no docent-led tour. Without it, the people in the photos didn’t come to life. We were just looking at family albums of people we don’t know.

I wonder how many family portraits amount to just that: photos of people you don’t know. Without first-hand descriptions, there’s no way to know the people in the photos. What did their laughs sound like? What did their kitchens smell like? How did they do their hair?

jcc-photo-of-photos

My great-grandmother Belle Gott (b 1875 d 1956) wrote the briefest of memoirs about her parents. ”My Folks and I” is only three pages long. But I know my great-great grandparents because Belle describes them in physical terms. Of her father she says,  ”It was always a joy to hear my father’s rich deep voice, to catch the sound of his whistled tune as he returned from work. I believe it is a happy man who comes home whistling.” Of her mother she says: ”Her eyes were that perfect blue to complement her spouse’s dark ones. She was fair, with brown wavy hair, but she lacked the strong teeth, such as father had. She had much dental trouble and finally resigned herself to a toothless old age, and matched it with a halo of silvery wavy, bobbed hair.” Belle says they both sang and hummed as they worked, something I do all the time.  “You get your singing from them,” says my husband.

Want an easy way to write a memoir? Pick a photo of an important person in your life and describe him or her using your five senses (see, hear feel, taste, smell). You’ll bring the person to life in a way the photo never can. Here are some questions to ask:

1. What color hair? What color eyes? Tall? Short? Stocky? Thin?

2. What did these look like: Feet? Hands? Walk? Stance?

3. What did this person sound like: Voice? Intonation? Accent?

4. Characteristic speech? Favorite words or expressions?

5. Views? Attitudes? Contradictions?

Let me know how this memoir tip works for you.

Remembrance of Memorial Days Past

Memoir opens a window to a different life.

In starting my research for a new family memoir about my great-great-great aunt, Mary Jewett Telford, I learned how flowers were used to commemorate Memorial Day over one-hundred years ago.

I’ve been reading through the “red book” (i.e., rule book) of an organization Mary Jewett Telford founded as a charter member and national corresponding secretary: the Woman’s Relief Corps (WRC). The WRC was formed in 1883 to assist the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR), a huge post-Civil War organization of Union veterans. Before the inception of the federal Veterans Administration, the WRC raised money for veterans relief, through entertainment, services, and membership dues. The Relief Committees of the local WRC “corps” (i.e., local chapters) buried veterans, supported homes for Civil War orphans, visited the sick, and helped satisfy the ”temporal wants” of veterans, widows, and orphans.

How did they use flowers on Memorial Day? They placed them in large bodies of water. In 1903, the Corps decided “That Corps adjacent to large streams or bodies of water strew floral tributes on the waters on Memorial Day in memory of our sailor-soldier dead, providing that it does not seriously conflict with ceremonies of other patriotic organizations” (The Woman’s Relief Corps Red Book Containing the Rules and Reulations of the Woman’s Relief Corps, Auxiliary to the Grand Army of the Republic, Adopted by Twenty-third National Convention, Denver, Colorado, 1905, Revised Edition, May 1914, page 155).

Mary Jewett Telford (1839-1906) received a Civil War pension for her service as the sole nurse in a Nashville hospital of over 1,000 wounded Union soldiers. She and her husband, Jacob Telford, adopted three girls who were Civil War orphans. She went on to be a church and temperance worker and was active in the Colorado woman’s suffrage movement.

Memorial Day Memoir

Lt. Wallace Jewett, 16th Michigan, killed July 2, 1863, Gettysburg PA

This Memorial Day, I’d like to honor Wallace E. Jewett, my first cousin four times removed (meaning four generations ago), who died in the Battle of Gettysburg in the Civil War.Wallace was 21 when he enlisted in Saginaw City, Michigan, on October 7, 1861, with the rank of 1st Sergeant.  He was a brave, capable soldier and was promoted often:

  • July 1, 1862—Sergt. Major
  • July 29, 1862—2nd Lieut. (As of Co. K)
  • February 2, 1863—1st Lieut. (As of Co. K)
  • April 1, 1863—Actg. Aide-de-Camp (As of 3rd Brigade, 1st Div, 5th Corp)

On July 2, 1863, Wallace died on Little Round Top. Little Round Top was at the extreme left side of the 3-mile-long Union line. Lieut. Wallace’s regiment, the 16th Michigan, “was at the right at the front edge of the rocks and was much more exposed than other parts of the line.” (Col. James C. Rice, July 31, 1863.) 

The fighting started at 4 pm on July 2, 1863. For the next hour, the Confederate forces charged again and again. “At every charge, he was repulsed with terrible slaughter,” wrote Col. James C. Rice (July 31, 1863). “Despairing of success at this point, he made a desperate attack upon the extreme right of the brigade” [where the 16th Michigan was], “forcing back a part of the Sixteenth Michigan. This regiment was broken, and through some misunderstanding of orders, explained in the official report of the commanding officer, it was thrown into confusion; but being immediately supported by the 140th NY Volunteers, the line became again firm and unbroken.” (Col. James C. Rice, July 31, 1863.) “The enemy again and again attacked the center with great vigor, and the extreme left with desperation. Passing one brigade of his forces by the right flank in three columns, he pushed through the ravine toward the left of our brigade, came immediately to a ‘front,’ and charged upon the Twentieth Maine. Now occurred the most critical time of the action. For about a half an hour the struggle was desperate.” (Col. James C. Rice, July 31, 1863.)

Somewhere during this time, Wallace E. Jewett was shot.  Benjamin F. Partridge, a Captain in the 16th Michigan at Little Round Top, wrote after the Civil War, “Lieut. Wallace Jewett of Co. ‘K’ was killed by a ball through his head just over his right eye, while cheering his comrades and men with uplifted sword.” (The Bachelder Papers, Vol. I, page 244.)

Wallace E. Jewett, was buried on July 3, 1863. He is memorialized in the National Cemetery at Gettysburg. You can easily find Wallace’s gravestone–Lieut. W. Jewett. Co. K. Regt. 16.–(MI plot H-2), by walking along the Michigan row of graves there.

 Wallace E. Jewett was 23.

This Memorial Day, why don’t you write and share a memoir about someone who gave his or her life?

Photo courtesy of Clay Feeter, my cousin and Civil War historian extraordinaire, who provided the research.

The Why of Memoir Writing

Why write a memoir? I’ve asked many people who have written one or tried to write one.  Here are a few of their answers:

“I want them to know ‘the real me,’ to know I had an interesting, adventuresome life.”

“To understand my life by looking backward.”

“To write something for myself.”

“I want to talk about all the fun we had.”

“I want to get something on paper.”

“I grew up in a Ukrainian/Russian neighborhood in Rochester, New York, which no longer exists. I wanted my kids and grandkids to know what that life was like.”

“To inspire other immigrants to come out of their difficulties.”

“To capture the stories, but not in a lot of depth.”

“To write the story of my grandfather’s tragic death.”

That last answer was mine. Now it’s your turn. Why do you want to write a memoir?