If you’ve read this column before, you know that “The Back Nine” has a whole lot more to do with old age than with smacking a ball. Nonetheless, in keeping with golf imagery, I shall call the following short subjects Chip Shots.
• At some point, you are likely to think you should write a memoir. Or, more likely, your kids think you should write a memoir. It can be a daunting process. You can spend hours stuck after “I was born … ”
I recommend you take a look at storyworth.com. It isn’t free to use and works best when someone purchases it for you. They can ask all kinds of questions. Or Storyworth itself asks questions. You choose what you want to answer. And in the end, you have a book of your actions, remembrances, introspections.
My niece gifted my sister with it, and Sis loved doing it. It helped her recall many things from earlier years that had lodged in the back of her brain. Her daughter loved it too; it saved many family gems from disappearing unnoticed into forever.
• Regarding language: I’m at the end of my ability to change much. I doubt I will ever say, “The child picked up their toy.” The idea of going from singular to plural in one swell foop is a worst infraction of the laws than to identify the gender of the little nipper. I am more likely to beat around the bush. “The toy that was on the ground is now in the hands of the child.” Sigh.
• Rainier cherries are appearing in grocery stores again. They always remind me of a flight I took to Georgia to visit a client. I carried along a big container of cherries to put in the center of the conference room table. The Georgians back then had never had such cherries. They gathered like squirrels. They taste tested, beamed and dug in. One gentleman, during a break, distributed his pits to the place settings of the others; he didn’t want anyone to know how many cherries he had eaten. It was a very successful meeting.
I learned right then that “getting to any heart through the stomach” is an absolute truth in life.
• To all you new June brides, I hope your wedding was less exciting than the one described in a Letter to the Editor that ran in my hometown paper, over half a century ago:
“Our apologies … to all of the wonderful friends and relatives who attended the Smith wedding and reception in Germfask on Friday, Nov. 5. The language, attire and general behavior of the groom thoroughly offended and shamed us all. We wish to thank the state police and ambulance drivers from Manistique for their prompt arrival, even though we were disappointed that no arrest was made. We are pleased that our wife and mother was released from the hospital and is recuperating at home with only a broken arm. Again we say we are sorry and shamed by the action of the man our daughter and sister chose.”
Linda B. Myers is a founding member of Olympic Peninsula Authors. Her newest historical novel, “Dr. Emma’s Improbable Happenings,” is available at Port Book and News, One of a Kind Gallery, and on Amazon.com. Contact her at email@example.com.