My suitcase was packed and ready for our trip to Syracuse, NY, the day after the wedding ceremony because Albert would have to report to base Monday night. That trip would be the only honeymoon we would have because we were having a World War 2 wedding!
Over the years, The Memoir Network has worked with hundreds of students directly in tele-classes and workshops, in coaching sessions, and via editing and thousands indirectly (perhaps that’s a wrong word) via all our resources—many of which we make available for free at My Memoir Education and for a nominal fee at Memoir Authority.These writers have produced terrific stories about love and abandonment, about careers and deadend lives, about racial and ethnic diversity and conflict.It is our honor to present some of these stories here for you to enjoy.
I have also chosen to include my own stories in this section as well as in their own categories under Here to Stay, We Were Not Spoiled, In Another Century, Marie Bilodeau, and My Eye Fell Into the Soup.
Martha Blowen, my partner in life and in work, died on August 18, 2008, from metastasized breast cancer. The following is from collated excerpts of journals we both kept at the time. (Before she passed away, she gave me permission to share her entries.) The manuscript is called My Eye Fell Into the Soup, after […]
In Franco-American New England, marching drill teams were popular. These teams were made up of girls who played instruments and marched in formation. Rhéa Ledoux was a team captain and she got to march in front of the other girls. The various drill teams would prepare elaborate sequences which they performed in parades—often in competition […]
My father loved to tell a story. He would sit three or four of us on his lap and ask us what kind of story we wanted to hear. “Perhaps un petit rien tout nu (a little naked nothing)?” he’d suggest. Not knowing what that was, we would nod our heads eagerly. “Do you want […]
The is an excerpt from a yet-unnamed memoir of my high school years spent in a seminary continues to chronicle my first days there. The school is in Bucksport Maine, and the year is 1960. In this vignette, I write about my first morning. The memoir is in progress.
My grandmother Marie Bilodeau Ledoux would have been 130 years old today. She was born in St-Narcisse-de-Lotbinière, Québec, on May 15, 1884. The following is excerpted from a booklet I wrote about my mémère some fifteen years ago and gave a s a Christmas gift to my extended family.
This is an excerpt from a memoir I am thinking of calling either In Another Century or A Very Catholic Boy. I am 13, and in the previous excerpt, I have just arrived at the seminary high school where I will be living. The excerpt starts as I have brought my trunk up to the […]
During WW2, the Japanese enslaved thousands of women to serve as prostitutes. I recently interviewed author William Andrews about his experience writing his recent novel, Daughters of the Dragon: A Comfort Woman’s Story.
William Andrews about his experience writing his recent book, Daughters of the Dragon. Bill exemplifies a commitment to writing. It is the same commitment but in the memoir field that will see all of us succeed at our endeavors.
An excerpt from my high school memoir. It wasn’t until my father turned onto Middle Street and drove the 1955 red Ford station wagon up the hill towards the seminary that I gave in to the looming presence of doubt. Was this really what I wanted?