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The Gift of Legacy

This book is a gift—a gift of hope, of commitment to life and loved ones, a gift of affection. To give it to someone to use or to use it yourself is to share with others these gifts of hope, commitment, and love.

Legacy is about life. About the times we’ve lived in, the people and events that have helped shape us, how and whom we’ve loved, what has stirred us, and how we’ve tried. When there’s been laughter and when the tears have come—those times are here, too.

What goes into living a life during your time, in your particular place? This is what our children want to know. This is what we share with our dearest friends. It’s an affirmation of the familiar phrase, “We’re all in this together,” something we seem to sense when we’re very young, yet understand more deeply as we have time to reflect on our lives. Take the time. Tell us. Acknowledge the together of today and tomorrow, by giving your stories. The story of a life is a priceless legacy.

Whether you are using this guide yourself or giving it as a gift, the primary purpose of Legacy is to help reveal and preserve, easily and comfortably, the essence of one’s life. If you suspect the recipient of your gift may need encouragement to begin, there are several ways you can help. Starting with “Why Write,” read the introductory sections together. Express what it would mean to you to have a completed Legacy book. Your desire to know her or his life better may be the key incentive the writer needs to get started. The Legacy writer will need a book to write in—refer to the “Practice of Writing” section for suggestions. Whatever you choose, keep it simple. It’s important that the book becomes theirs and that they are comfortable writing in it. As my sister said to me, “You know we’d have been thrilled if Mother or Dad had handed us a stack of dog-eared composition books filled with their stories.” A smooth writing pen, a mug full of well-sharpened pencils, and your words of interest and encouragement would complete the gift.

Check in on the Legacy writer occasionally: How is it going? Who have you remembered that you hadn’t thought of for a long time? What have you found yourself thinking about?

If the recipient of your gift is unable to do the actual writing, use the Legacy questions as springboards for conversation, or take down the words yourself. If she or he is comfortable having the responses mechanically recorded, a video or audio tape would be fine as an added dimension, but a transcribed copy on paper in an attractive binder would be a more lasting and accessible record to pass on to following generations. If there is an initial hesitancy, here’s where you read aloud “Why Write?” and “Hesitating?” Then look through the questions for something you know they’ll feel comfortable talking about and just listen. A few times together like this will assure your interest, and after a while you’ll find the memories come easily. (This works long distance on the telephone, if necessary.) Remember that it’s important to listen and that silences are a part of remembering and revisiting long-forgotten memories.

In many communities, schools have initiated community-wide oral history programs. The Legacy guide is an invaluable tool for these programs, providing a framework for the process of recording oral histories as well as specific questions to ask, building the confidence of a new generation of community historians and writers.

Legacy is a gift you want fully used and worn, so do what you can to nurture the process. You will be forever grateful for the part you play.

Why Write?

One day years ago, I found my usually contented mother in a curious state. She was seated, with a book in her lap, looking wistfully, somewhat mournfully, out the window. She held up the book, a recent gift from my sister, showed me its clean, white blank pages. “Your sister wants me to write about my life. I’d like to do it for her. . . .” Here, she trailed off, shook her head doubtfully, “. . . but what does she want to know?”

What indeed? What is that precious gift we ask of our elders? Scores of people, young and old, hearing of my work with Legacy, have volunteered their answers. A teenager wants to know, did her grandmother love music, did she dance, and to what music? A young sports enthusiast wonders, what games did grandfather play? A beginning cook longs for his mother’s recipes, and wonders if mother remembers any of grandmother’s recipes, or, better yet, wrote them down?

We are surprisingly curious about these everyday details. And many of us long for something more, something deeper: “I wanted to know,” my sister tells me, “not just what happened in Mother’s life, but what she felt when it was happening.”

We who have already lost our opportunity say, “I wish I’d known him better” or “I wish I could go back and ask her about that.” Frequently, we hear “All I have left are a few family photographs.” We stare at the face in the faded photograph, try to imagine the heart, the feelings, the story of that person. We pass on what stories we know, telling and retelling, drawing from them a sense of family identity and continuity.

Many of us are separated from our families by distance and busy lives. Few of us have the good fortune to spend long afternoons together—playing cards, listening to music, baking bread, sitting on the porch, and hearing the casual or intimate tales of “back then.” Rarely do we work side by side with our parents, witnessing how they deal with life’s surprises and challenges. Less and less frequently are our dinner tables set for several generations coming together to share a meal and the day’s events. Even as our telephones bring us together in an instant, it is at the expense of letters, the written record of everyday life.

It is the everyday joys and sorrows as well as the “big events” that provide the fertile connecting ground between generations. And today, as we realize our losses, few of us find the journal or stack of letters that might have helped us to piece together the insight or real life story we seek. “What does—did—Mother remember of that summer; what was it like for her?” Madeleine L’Engle asks in Summer of the Great-Grandmother; “I don’t even know why we were there, without Father, and it is too late to ask her. I can only remember the summer as it was for me, not as it was for her.”

This is a book waiting to become your story. Parts of your life may already be known to others, but don’t assume that what seems obvious to you will be familiar to them; and here, too, are questions that may not yet have been asked. If no one has asked, someone someday will, and this written record could be their only chance to get your answers. In Legacy you are invited to share your experiences, insights, and the wisdom and humility of your years.

Finally, the gift you give to others will repay you many times over and could become the gateway to a wider vision of your life. Your reflections and responses can uncover a purpose you may not have known or realized, a resolution and awareness of your life’s fullness. So Legacy is for you and for all of us, writers and readers alike, honoring our lives, our stories, and our times.

Hesitating?

Maybe you’re ready to dive right in and begin writing. If so, skip this section and move ahead to “How to Read Legacy.”

For the rest of us, this is the hard part—getting started. We’re afraid of looking foolish, afraid no one is interested. We think we can’t write well enough. Perhaps we think we shouldn’t spend so much time focusing on ourselves. Maybe we’re uneasy about remembering or writing about certain times. Let’s look at these four familiar and common obstacles.

1. Someone will think I’m foolish and who would be interested in my life anyway? If you received Legacy as a gift, this particular obstacle can be moved aside, because with this gift comes the heartfelt direct or implied request, “Please write about your life. Please tell me all about you.” But surely nobody’s interested in hearing me talk shop! Even though you may believe that others are bored by talk about special interests or your work, remember that what your interests have been and how you have spent your time are important pieces of the whole.

If you found Legacy yourself, you have already taken the first big step. As you sit down to write, trust the feelings that moved you to open this book. Your instinct is sound.

If you continue to harbor fear or to doubt that anyone will really be interested, think of a favorite grandchild or young friend, or a grandchild not yet born. Think about the person a hundred years from now who will pick up this book looking for the connections, the bridge, the assurance that “someone else felt the way I’m feeling . . . maybe I can learn from how they handled it and understand more from how they felt.” As you write, picture someone sitting with you, asking the questions. Look at that person, have a conversation, and begin to share your story.

2. I won’t be able to write well enough. Of course it would be thrilling to produce or read a masterpiece! But, let’s agree here and now, that’s not the point. What we want, plain and simple, is your story. If doubts arise, continue to remind yourself, out loud, “It’s my story, and I’m the only person who can tell it.” We’ll cover some writing techniques later.

3. Maybe I shouldn’t be spending so much time thinking about myself. Some people feel that it is unhealthy to dwell on the past, and that it is perhaps vain or arrogant to spend so much time thinking and talking about oneself. It’s sometimes hard to see how one’s personal history has relevance to the recording of the past that we call history. To these modest souls I would say that the time of reflection on one’s life holds an importance equal to that of any other period of life. Your hard-won wisdom and experience will be at hand for family members you will never meet, and the time you spend recording your memories and reflections will be transformed into an unforgettable link to your family and its future generations.

4. Aren’t there some things better left unsaid? There may be parts of your story you are not ready or willing to tell. Perhaps you fear you might hurt someone by revealing certain information. Only you can decide this. Revealing something hidden, in the still-private process of writing your story, may show you that the difficulty was smaller than you had imagined, may even bring a resolution you hadn’t thought possible.

Perhaps you gave someone a promise of secrecy. Quite likely you’ll find it important to continue to honor that trust. But in some instances there might be other factors to consider: you agreed to secrecy because you felt you had no choice; you were too young to understand what was being asked of you; times have changed, and what once we felt it was necessary to hide, we may now be more willing to share. If you feel the revelation of something you’ve kept secret could be instructive to someone who faces a similar situation, you may choose to talk about this secret from the perspective of what you have learned by looking back, telling the circumstances without identifying specific people.

In telling something you have not revealed before, you may find that your revelation can bring understanding to others confused or troubled by past behaviors or events. With the advantage of the wisdom that comes with the passage of time, it is also possible that in recalling something painful you will see things in a new light, letting go of much of the pain. Miraculously, you may ease into the relief of forgiveness.

So while this writing will be helpful to others it also often helps us to make sense of and peace with our own lives. Be reassured that when you are reviewing the times that were difficult or painful, the choice is always yours to make when you consider the question—“Will sharing this part of my story help more than hinder, and heal more than hurt?”

Now put your obstacles behind you, and let’s get started!

The Practice of Writing

Choosing a writing book. I want your finished Legacy to have your imprint from cover to cover. That’s why this is not a workbook, but is designed to be used with a blank writing book. Choose a writing book that is easy to use: one that will lie flat and is a comfortable size, at least 5x7, and 7x10 is even better. Notebooks, journals, binders, and various writing books (made with acid-free paper, if possible) are plentiful at office supply, stationery, and book stores. The coated-wire spiral-bound design with its heavy black or colored cardboard cover is a handsome choice at a reasonable price. As time goes on you may want to personalize the cover with your name and a photograph, applied with paste or photo-corners. A large envelope pasted to the inside cover would be handy for photographs, old letters, etc. The most important consideration is to choose a writing book that you like.

Choosing the time and place. Where do you feel most comfortable and sometimes daydream—settled in a favorite chair or sitting at a table? Choose a recalling/writing spot where you feel relaxed and content. If convenient, add soft music that can help you drift back. The more you allow yourself to relax, the more you’ll recall. If you think you should write only when the spirit moves you, give that spirit some attention. Greet it with consistency. A set routine will reinforce its sense of importance—first thing in the morning for half an hour, with a cup of tea between ten and eleven every other day, Sunday evenings, or late at night. Set a date with yourself and Legacy, whenever and wherever you choose. A date that you’ll keep, even if the spirit doesn’t seem present.

Techniques for Getting Started. The very first session, start at the beginning of Legacy by warming up with the first two questions. Then consider the third question: “What are your earliest memories?”

For subsequent sessions, many people have found that beginning with the following simple exercise works well for them. With Legacy in hand and your writing book in your lap or on the table, choose a section you’d like to work on and select a question. Read the question once again, then close your eyes for a few moments. With your eyes still closed, take a few deep breaths, quietly saying the word “relax” as you slowly breathe out. Now repeat this, substituting “I remember” for “relax.” With your eyes still closed, using the name you like to be called, ask yourself the question you have chosen. Let yourself drift back to that time and as you start to see images, hear sounds, smell or feel something familiar, open your eyes and begin to write. Beginning each writing session with this exercise will help you focus and make the shift from your usual thoughts and activities.

As you reflect on the question, try jotting down first thoughts or images, anything that comes to mind as you read the question. For example, one woman noted these fleeting first thoughts at the top of her page when she considered the question “If you were to visit with your grandmother or grandfather, what would that have been like for you?”

grandmother . . . holidays . . . Sundays: be quiet, no bare feet, sit still, white wavy hair, soft cold perfumed skin, tight smile, straight back, criticisms. . . .

She then picked one thought, Sundays, and began to write, using some of her other images as memory expanded and more details came to mind.

Every Sunday, my whole family had to visit Grandmother. We children always complained and mother always reminded us the ordeal would last only about fifteen minutes, then we would be free. Sitting on the scratchy wool chairs, we waited to endure Grandmother’s questioning. We knew she expected silence until asked to speak. We also knew that if we weren’t careful, she’d find a way to slip in a criticism, and mother would defend us as we tried to figure out what to say while our father would look at us and try to remind us with a wink that this was not to be taken too seriously. If we accepted Grandmother’s inquisition politely, we would be excused to go out to the kitchen where exuberant Amelia waited for us with cokes and cookies, and then we would be ignored and free to run, roam, and poke around the garden, the attic, or any of the rooms as long as we stayed out of sight while the grown-ups continued to talk. I didn’t trust my grandmother and was always relieved but wary if she said something nice. My father would tell me she “just doesn’t know any other way to be,” which I’d remind myself, but the effect wasn’t lasting. I did my best to never get caught alone with her.

This technique of jotting down first thoughts or impressions also works if a subject seems too big or distant. Writing on one small piece of it is often enough to start the memories flowing.

Another approach that works well when you think of a time or an event is to describe what you are experiencing as if you are there, in that time. When the woman who wrote the previous piece tried again from the perspective of a seven-year-old, she found more details. Both versions are in her Legacy. Relaxed, with her eyes closed, she sat quietly for a few minutes and pictured herself younger, and younger, until she had an image of herself as a child in her grandmother’s living room. Slowly, she opened her eyes and began writing:

I’m 7 years old, squirming in my chair. This wool seat scratches against my bare legs. It’s bad enough we have to visit Grandmother, but it’s even worse, when we could be in our fort, to be here, dressed up and wearing shoes. I look at my brother and he rolls his eyes and my sister is trying to ignore us both, because she’s the one Grandmother is questioning. About school. The school part I wouldn’t mind, but she always asks me if I’m keeping my room neat. She doesn’t ask anyone else about their room, but she saw my room once a long time ago when I wasn’t home, and I guess my stuff was all around. She called it “a disgrace.” I can’t say it’s neat, because I didn’t actually straighten it today. If I say it’s not neat, she’ll say something mean again, and then look at Mommy as if she’s the one who has a messy room. I don’t know what I should say. When she asks me things that could turn bad, I usually don’t answer and look at Mommy and she smiles at me and quickly talks about something I’m doing that’s good.

Daddy is sitting quietly, with his knees crossed and his foot slightly rocking. He has a little smile on his face like he’s watching something funny. He winks at me, and kind of laughs without making any noise. Grandmother didn’t see but I better not look at him again.

Is she almost done? I want to go out to the kitchen where Amelia is waiting with her big hugs and cokes and maybe those little cakes that look like presents. I love those. She’s always very happy to see us. Mommy told us that Grandmother said, “Sometimes I think the children care more for Amelia than they do me.” I asked: “How’d she find out?” Now we have to be careful not to mention Amelia or ask about the cokes. Sure it’s true, and I’ve been worried for awhile that Grandmother will ask me if it is.

“Your mother tells me that you are helping in the school library.” “Yes,” I answer. I love the library and Miss Page, the librarian. I am her assistant. I smile at Mommy. This is good! “It always is important for one to be familiar with the library. I would think it is very important to keep all those books neat and tidy and on their shelves, now . . . wouldn’t you agree?” “Yes,” I answer carefully, and look quickly at Mommy. She’s already saying something to Grandmother. I wait. I’m not breathing. I see myself standing in the middle of the library with books all over the floor.

Suddenly, Grandmother says what we’re waiting for: “I think Amelia might have something for you children in the kitchen. You may be excused.” Now, just the kiss on her cold cheek, and I can leave. Don’t rush, walk. My brother says that if your heels hit the ground first you are still walking. Mommy says we also have to be moving quietly and straight up, not bending forward, not shoving. I can hear our heels softly hitting the carpet as we pick up speed. As soon as we round the hall corner, we’ll race. Amelia is waiting.

This brief remembrance doesn’t give a full picture of her grandmother, but later, she went on to write quite a different picture of her from the perspective of a twenty-one-year-old. The writing kindled a new desire to know more about her grandmother and the life she had led. In writing your Legacy, you have opportunities to comment and reflect on subjects and people in several different ways, so as whole a picture as you know and remember emerges.

Writing on one subject will often bring other memories to mind. Jot a note in the margin and come back to those thoughts later. A man writing about a Thanksgiving remembered his uncle arriving in a new car, the only car in their family. Later, going back to the memory of the car, he saw himself sitting in the back seat—traveling on a special summer trip to a lake, to his aunt’s funeral, and to his high school graduation. All these glimpses revealed rich details of his family and his youthful dreams.

Details may seem uninteresting or insignificant to you, but they are important. Pay attention to them. Your reader will find them more meaningful than general descriptions. If you write statements such as “I always felt comfortable with my Aunt Louise” or “I didn’t like to be alone,” take yourself further with those thoughts, tell us why. “What did Aunt Louise do, what was it about her that made me like to be around her?” “What was I feeling when I was alone, what did I think would happen?” If you feel uncertain about some of what you are recalling, begin those writings with the phrase, “As best as I can remember . . .” Let your writing reflect the search in your mind: “I just remembered . . .” or “Now another thought occurred to me.”

Legacy Questions

Legacy questions make it easier. There are a lot of them, each having distinct and sometimes subtle differences. Notice how they draw from you your fullest story. Sometimes you’ll cover two or three questions in the same writing piece. You may find yourself hopping between sections, but you’ll find their chronological arrangement supports both clarity and recall. If you try the first few questions and are still hesitating, choose any question from any section that sparks a memory. Start there. Once you get rolling, you can always go back to the beginning. You choose which ones you’re ready for and how much you want to write. As you write, include a reference to the question. Avoid giving one-word answers. You’ll leave everyone in the dark! Remember that your reader wants to know not only what happened but how you felt about it at the time.

Along the way, you’ll be nudged and encouraged by quotes from authors with whom you may be familiar, and you’ll also meet people I have known or met over the last ten years who have been willing to share excerpts from their own memories and Legacy writings. Their stories have always moved me to want to hear more, and to encourage more people to write their personal histories—for all the reasons we’ve talked about here, and more. Just the other day, when I read back the words of my seventy-four-year-old friend describing her relationship with her husband, she sat quietly for a moment and then said, “I feel as if I have found a new language.”

Now You’re Writing!

Write in your natural style of speaking. Your own language gives the truest story. Remember, some of the people reading your Legacy will never know you, so your own writing will be the only conversation they ever have with you. Write a little every day, or at least consistently. You’ll begin to find your rhythm. Remember, you’re giving us your story, not necessarily creating a literary classic! Put your internal critic on hold and keep writing!

Occasionally you may get stuck. When that happens, look deeply into photographs or handle an object connected to the time or person you are trying to describe. Read some old letters, look through a yearbook, or listen to music connected to a certain time. Concentrating on one stage of your life at a time will stir up rich details and feelings. You may well stay with one stage for weeks. Be sure to go back later to some of the questions you skipped. You may be ready to include them. But by no means should you feel that you must answer all the questions in a section; this is your story, and Legacy questions are intended only as guides to recording what you remember as significant in your life experience.

Think about the things in your life and what they meant to you. Houses, toys, cars, books, special gifts received and given, are not merely material objects but repositories of memories often rich with emotional significance.

Now look back with tenderness and courage and write from your heart, and perhaps someone, someday, will find what he or she needs to live life with more understanding, compassion, confidence, and acceptance.

How to Read Legacy

One more point. In Legacy, I use “standard terms”: parents, mother, father, grandparents, grandchild, children, marriage. Don’t take me too literally.

When I say parents, please ask yourself, “Who raised me?” Maybe it wasn’t your mother . . . or your father. Use the questions to write about those you consider to be your parents. When I say grandparent, you may think of an important older person. Perhaps your grandparent was someone else, grandparent-like ?

Many people who have not raised their own children have played important and loving roles in the lives of children. Use the sections on “Being a Parent” and “Being a Grandparent” to write about these relationships. The same is true for any standard or conventional term for relationships—adapt them to fit your life.

“Marriage” refers to any enduring couple relationship.

When Legacy refers to a specific experience or place, you may have experienced several. Include them all—homes, marriages, schools, jobs, etc.

Remember, Legacy is about your life! Make Legacy work for you.

To my mother, Laura, who wondered what to write, to my sister, Pam, who knew the worth of Mother’s memories, to my daughter, Laura, who has always asked the questions.