Gunnar owned the field and the house across the street. At one time, the house must have been a trim little cape. But now it rolled a bit, as if it was caught in a perpetual wave, and the white paint was badly flaked and faded. The house gave way to a series of sheds that ended at the entrance to a monstrous barn three stories high. Inside were Gunnar’s prized possessions: his Harley motorcycle and his vintage automobiles. Gunnar loved motorcycles. As a child with his first bicycle, he’d liberated his mother’s brand new metal vacuum cleaner tubes to (more…)

Gunnar was mowing his field. This was odd. He never mowed his field. He was making ever-tightening circles around the knobby acre, the sweet grass and raggedy weeds falling in neat windrows behind him. He rolled over the bumps and dodged the knot of trees in the middle and the outhouse at one end while perched atop a full-size tractor that, despite its bulk, failed to dwarf him. It was a nice grassy field, shimmering with seed in early August, rimmed with pines and oaks on three sides and a low-slung ancient stone wall on the fourth along the road, (more…)

When I was ten, I ran away. I packed everything that was important into my sturdy cardboard suitcase. I left a note on the kitchen table warning my parents not to look for me at the high-tension wires, those metal electrical towers that marked the back border of our property and which were in fact my destination. I never made it to the high-tension wires. I got as far as the start of the path through the woods where I found an accommodating rhododendron bush under which I could hide. From here, I could see anyone headed for the path. (more…)

The following is an excerpt from We Were Not Spoiled by Lucille Ledoux as told to Denis Ledoux. Life during the war went on as usual, in some ways. I enjoyed working at Benoit’s Clothing Store. I liked dressing up to go to work. We were always meeting the public and we had to look good. Our dresses had to be just right and our hair done. I used to go to a hairdresser on Lincoln Street whose shop was on the second floor of a building her family owned. She lived downstairs with her parents, who had made the (more…)

My pulse quickened as we walked up the white cement stairs to Ernest Hemingway’s famed Cuban home, La Finca Vigia. His presence lingered throughout the house. It was supposedly exactly how he had left it in the 1960’s— animal heads adorning walls, books and papers stacked on his desk, dust-laden bottles of alcohol on a tray in the living room. The dining room table was set as if Ernest and his wife Mary were going to walk in at any minute and sit down for a meal. Small wire rimmed glasses folded on the bedside table. In the bathroom was (more…)

The following is an excerpt from We Were Not Spoiled by Lucille Ledoux as told to Denis Ledoux. My Parents Establish Themselves in Maine and I Am Born The Howe Street apartment where I was born was my parents’ second home. When they first came, they lived downtown in a tenement on Lisbon Street. My father worked at Dulac’s which was just down the way, and while the mills were not far from their tenement, my mother, who turned 21 on August 15 just a few weeks after marrying, did not seek outside work but kept house. Language was not (more…)

The following memoir excerpt was written by Chris Madsen of Olympia, Washington. I never got used to that first splash of chilly water. It came from a natural spring concealed behind a stockade fence, so clean and pure that we all thought Mr. Trecartin should bottle it. Instead, he let the spring fill the swimming pool his family had owned and operated since 1927. It was called Elm-Tre, a pun on the graceful trees that ringed the grounds, and his own last name. We first joined the pool when I was 8 years old. That summer, Mr. Trecartin taught my younger sister (more…)

The following is an excerpt from We Were not Spoiled by Lucille Ledoux as told to Denis Ledoux. When I remember the next years of my life, I keep wishing I had stayed in school. I was 16 and I had no preparation to do any work. I was too young to marry, and my parents could not afford to have me stay at home. My mother took care of most of the housework, and my parents needed my salary more than they needed me to help her full-time at housekeeping. My mother had never worked outside the home except (more…)

Using a Motivation Technique The Memoir Network was pleased to receive this answer from blog reader Justine Kuntz in response to Denis Ledoux’s article titled “Motivation Technique for Writing:” In the spring of 2012 I decided to do what you have suggested in your entry titled “Motivation Technique for Writing.” I had concluded a memoir that I had been working on sporadically for seven years. My goal was to finish it before August and self-publish it for my cousins before we get too old to remember the stories. I chose the birth of my daughter as a good stopping point (more…)

There Goes The Neighborhood, Part 2

By Christine Terp Madsen

We had already witnessed the demolition derby over the snowy weekend between Christmas and New Year’s. We figured the upcoming motorcycle party couldn’t top that. The demolition derby started with the arrival of large trucks bearing strange cargo. (more…)

There Goes the Neighborhood, Part 1

By Christine Terp Madsen

Pudgy: A Childhood Memoir

By Christine Terp Madsen

Life During The War

By Lucille Ledoux

Life during the war went on as usual, in some ways. I enjoyed working at Benoit’s Clothing Store. I liked dressing up to go to work. We were always meeting … (more…)

Hemingway and Dinosaurs

By Ingrid Littman-Tai

My pulse quickened as we walked up the white cement stairs to Ernest Hemingway’s famed Cuban home, La Finca Vigia. His presence lingered throughout the house. (more…)

The Howe Street Apartment

By Lucille Ledoux

The following is an excerpt from We Were not Spoiled by Lucille Ledoux as told to Denis Ledoux. My Parents Establish Themselves in Maine and I Am Born The Howe Street apartment where I was born was my parents’ second home. When they first came, they lived downtown in a tenement on Lisbon Street. My […]

Something About the Water

By Christine Terp Madsen

Starting Out On My Life

By Lucille Ledoux

I was too young to marry, and my parents could not afford to have me stay at home. My mother took care of most of the housework, and my parents needed my salary more than they needed me to help her full-time at housekeeping. My mother had never worked outside the home except for a […]