Trip to the Cemetary

I spent a week in Linden with G-Bob last week and we did all the usual things.  We went to eat catfish at David Beard's, had Larry and Sue over for dinner, picked up bags and bags of sweet gum balls from the yard - although I don't know why because these little buggers have littered her yard for as long as I can remember and to my knowledge no one has ever bothered to rake them much less pick them up one by one, as she did, and dump them in the ditch.  :/  The big field trip of the week was to Red Hill and the cemeteries.  Plural. 

For some, cemetary trips are a solemn thing.  For some it's a time of reflection and a moment with a long lost loved one.  For G-Bob, it's serious business and she's got lots of people to tend to.  She feels a strong responsibility to it and the attention she puts into the the task is nothing short of inspiring. 

First, we had to choose a BUCKET FULL of silk flowers - you know, so we had choices once we got there because you just never know what might strike your fancy.  We also took five pairs of snips and/or wire cutters, a handful of floral wire, gardening gloves, five blocks of green Styrofoam and snacks.  She  pulled weeds, changed out flowers, fretted over forgetting what kind of solution she could mix to clean the headstones, and told me stories about everyone we visited.  We took care of Nana and DiDaddy, a few distant cousins, Aunt Elta, Dad, Charles, Grandaddy Bill, Sister, Uncle Harold and his parents, Mammy and PawPaw - and then there was a surprise stop.  There is a WWII Veteran buried at the Linden cemetery who either doesn't have any living kin or none of his people are around to tend to his grave, so G-Bob does.  She makes sure there is always a little American flag stuck in the ground and that he has some kind of flowers.  Some people might think the cemetery tour with Barbara might be a little weird.  Not weird.  It was amazing and so honorable to see how she took care of them all.  It was a delightful, insightful, lovely way to spend the afternoon with her, Michelle and our people.

P.S. I heard from a few people that they were having a hard time leaving a comment.  I *think* I fixed the settings and it should be OK to leave comments now.

How do you solve a problem like...

Bridget Moynahan

...writing fictional characters who are representative of real people in your life without getting yourself in hot water? 

I'm not entirely sure yet, but I managed to soften the initial shock and anxiety for my sister by sharing that HER character looked like Bridget Moynahan. 

AND IT TOTALLY WORKED!! 

Since I write like I'm watching a movie - it's all very visual and of course there is a companion soundtrack, too - one of the first things I did when doing the character profiles was imagine what each character looked like.  Written, physical descriptions weren't enough for me and considering my affection and obvious talent for procrastination, of course there was an exhaustive search for images to match up those descriptions.  I mean, really, how could I write what I could only see them in my mind?  I needed tangible, visual reminders or proof that these characters DID exist.  After careful consideration and a lot of very important 'research' I now have little images clipped to every single character profile for the principles in the story.

In going through this exercise in the name of outlining and research, I faced a problem that I'd imagined many times in my childhood..."When they make a movie about my life, who would I want to play me??"  Granted, we're talking book business here, but I'm already thinking ten thousand steps ahead and that book to movie deal that is inevitable.  Positive thoughts, law of attraction and all that hoo doo, my NOT being famous has never been a consideration.  HOW I might become famous has been a bone of contention for years, but I digress...

I could go all Mary Sue and make her physically perfect, tall, skinny, graceful - all the things that I am not - but honestly, wish fulfillment isn't even on my radar for this project.  Besides, perfect is boring.  Especially in fiction.  Especially in fiction that is written for women.  While her sister can be Bridget Moynahan, the heroine has to be flawed and relatable.  Of course she's not EXACTLY me, anyone who knows me, has heard me tell a joke or a story, who has seen first person how wildly expressive I can be, or who has laughed when I've tripped over my own two feet, will recognize me in her.  And that's cool by me. 

All character 'casting' aside, I have thought long and hard about how the real people in my life might feel about being included, even in an embellished, charactures or themselves, painted with big sweeping strokes, kind of way.  My grandmother is fully on board.  She even asked if I was going to include her friend Nallie in the book.  My siblings however, have to be feeling something much different.  Truth be told, that old adage, "write what you know," has to scare the crap out of them!  Not because there are sordid, scary stories to tell, but because I've always been the odd man out.  Whether self prophetized or by the sheer, natural dynamics of our little nuclear bubble, there is no doubt a worry that my perspective is a heckuva lot different than theirs.  We could all recount the same experience and I guarantee you, all three versions would be colorful and descriptive, but mine would be somewhere over in left field comparitively.  I've tried to change the order or outcome of real events and it always comes off as disingenuous.  Maybe because I know it's a lie is what makes it difficult to tell it, or maybe I'm not as clever and imaginative as I'd always thought.  At any rate, it's a balancing act between truth and fiction and I'm learning that straddling that line is pretty tricky business.  Here's hoping I don't fall flat on my face with this and that my brother and sister don't show up on my door step with torches and a rope after reading it. 

I wanna be like Margaret Mitchell

Do not wait until the conditions are perfect to begin. Beginning makes the conditions perfect. ~Alan Cohen



Welcome to the blog!  My hope here is to chronicle the process, good or bad, as I work towards writing and recording my precious grandmother's life story.  Because it's her story and the events in her life dictated my dad's story, it's really my story, too.  It's part memoir, part fiction, but ultimately I hope that it'll be as compelling on paper as it is when she and I are talking about it all.  I've been collecting her memories and stories for the last year and I think I'm ready to get down to it and do the work.  I'm thinking it'll be a cross between historical fiction, contemporary fiction and of course there will be a good dose of romance.  I don't like the word 'epic' because I think it's use is cheesy in recent pop culture circles and in the younguns vocabularies.  But simply because it spans 80 something years - 1924 to the present - it's pretty sweeping.  Maybe 'saga' is a better word?  That's it...historical, family saga, like Gone with the Wind.  I should be so lucky. 

Charles and Barbara Stone
San Antonio, TX 1942

Why a blog?  I don't really know what to tell you other than I feel compelled.  I know of several others who are or who have recorded their writing journey.  For posterity, for accountability so that others will encourage them to finish, for vanity?  Yes, maybe and no, I don't think so.  I'm doing this for Tara, Pete and me, but please feel free to follow along if you're even remotely interested.  This will be outlet to which I'll likely flee when I'm hiding out from doing the real work on the project, or when I'm struck dumb and paralyzed by writer's block, or more than likely, where I'll post the inane and silly for my own amusement.  You never know what you might find here.  I can't begin to imagine. 
So what's at the beginning?  My fraternal grandparents, Barbara and Charles.  Where does it end?  I could tell you, but then that would make the whole point of writing it down moot, no?