Life Story Telling

Reality TV at the Santa Barbara Writers' Conference 2008, From a 2 Hour Special That Aired on TV

2010-03-19T12:18:00.000-07:00

Garrison Kellor, A Prairie Home Companion, "The News from Lake Wobegon," Storyteller Extraordinaire, Always a Welcome Companion and a Good Listen

2010-03-14T16:06:00.001-07:00

Garrison Keillor, Prairie Home Companion, The News From Lake Wobegon. A good companion anytime. Enjoy! There are 99 videos at at his channel on youtube, and I subscribe to get email notices when there's a new one.

Back to the 70's, Poetry, "Ethereal Dream," and an Arabian Horse

2010-03-12T13:17:00.000-08:00

"Ethereal Dream" was one of the poems I wrote in the 70's that was published internationally by the official publication for the U.S. equestrian team, The Chronicle of the Horse.

"Ethereal Dream"

Storybook horse, fantasy dream
Are you ethereal as you seem?
Mane, part of the whispering wind,
Floating about you, hair unpinned.
You couldn't be part of this world,
Ghostly beauty and speed unfurled.
Tomorrow let's gallop into the mist,
Where rosy dawn bears the sun's kiss.
Real it will be, but make-believe it will seem,
As if we're riding from life to our dream."

I wrote this poem about Sahla Ibn Siham, aka "Victor the Wonder Horse" a pumpkin bay polish Arabian colt that I got as a yearling, raised and trained. He did it all, dressage, jumping, working cattle, trails, liberty performances by vocal commands and hand signals for local adult ed groups. Soulmate spirit horse.

He was a character and half. Spirit, intelligence, playing games, mischief maker.

One morning I arrived at the stable, finding Victor loose, having breakfast on alfalfa over by the tack room. Smiled at me. Yes, he had a smile like you wouldn't believe, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. A wise guy Houdini horse.

He had reached over the top of the dutch door on his stall. Undid the latch that was on the outside of it with his teeth.

Eventually we had a whole series of latches on top of latches on his stall's dutch door. He delighted in solving these puzzles.

I was going to get him a rubic's cube but never got around to it.

Flashback to 1971 - Circus Girl - "Lions, Tigers, and Horses,Oh My!"

2010-03-11T19:47:00.000-08:00

My horse Commodore and I fit right in at PT Barnum and Bailey Circus at the Cow Palace, San Francisco.

He, a good looking tall black-bay with a long mane, wearing a new red halter and a leadrope on one side as a rein. Me, 19 years old, riding him bareback.

Lions looked out at us from cages, elephants were led by, people were milling around.

It was 1971, my Mom and I moved to Santa Barbara, California. We took a horse trailer up to San Francisco to pick up Commodore. A professional had trailered him across country from Wisconsin.

I hadn't seen him for a year, having been away at college. Commodore had been turned out in a giant pasture in Wisconsin.

The Cow Palace sign announced "PT Barnum and Bailey Circus."

We located the truck driver and Commodore.

I knew right away Commodore hadn't forgotten me.

I slipped the new red halter on him with the leadrope. "Would you give me a leg up please?" I asked the truck driver.

In my mind I said to Commodore, "Comma, I have missed you so much."

The past year melted away.

Commodore was a tall jumping horse, spirited, and I had never ridden him bareback with only a halter and a leadrope on one side.

We instantly connected, tuned in to each other. We took off riding around the circus.

We stopped at the lion cage. All kinds of circus animals were in cages nearby or being led around.

People in the crowd smiled at us, watched, waved, pointed at him. I knew Commodore was trusting me. That was why he wasn't nervous or spooking.

The bystanders probably thought I was a circus girl, one of the bareback riders with her trusty trick horse.

In my mind I said to him, "Oh Comma thank you! You're so good."

Commodore in his red halter, me riding bareback, we watched the PT Barnum and Bailey circus at the Cow Palace.

It was not your everyday experience, but Commodore was not your everyday horse.

Native American Storyteller Little Hawk Shares Wisdom

2010-03-10T16:51:00.000-08:00

The heartfelt genuine quality of this storytelling by Little Hawk makes it so real, so wonderful. Enjoy.

1965 - Slice of Life - Scandal and Me

2010-03-09T14:34:00.000-08:00

Open the mind's closet for 1965.

I'm 13 years old, and this is the era of "Scandal and Me." Scandal was a black half-Arabian, half-thoroughbred mare. Scandal and I often stayed out on the trails in the snowy winters until after dark. I leaned down low over her neck, shining a flashlight on the paths. It was an adventure.

It's 1965, and I'm in the 8th grade.

A huge horse farm was built a few years ago across the corn field behind our house. For several years I've been working there every day after school and on Saturdays.

In the 6th grade I started at $2 a day and now I am making $3 a day. I give the money to my parents to help with Scandal's expenses.

School's from 8 to 3:15, and by 3:40 I'm heading over to Fairlane Farms. Several years ago my parents put in a corral in the back. My dreams came true when I got a beautiful black half-Arabian, half-thoroughbred mare, Scandal.

It's winter, and after school it's dash out to throw the bridle and saddle on Scandal, ride through the fields to the horse farm.

Put Scandal in an empty stall, start brushing and saddling horses, get the students on their horses, accompany them on any horse that needs exercise or training to the riding ring where the stable owner gives lessons.

After half hour in the ring, then I take them for a 15-20 minute trail ride. Then we get the next group of students out for another lesson.

If it's raining or snowy the lessons are held in the indoors riding ring, well lit.

At 6 pm the second lesson ends, we unsaddle and put the horses away, and start filling water buckets with hoses, cleaning, getting the flakes of hay and filling the grain buckets.

The stable owner has a large family and by working there I am part of the extended family.

Speakers in the barn and indoor ring provide the times' popular music for our riding and chores. We might be trotting around the ring to "I Wanna Hold Your Haaaand."

Now we're done. My friends, who now have horses too, often hang around the barn as it's our second home. We can pretend to be horses.

We gallop around, whinnying and neighing, jumping hay bales, barrels, and low post and rails. Since the first grade we've been drawing horses, watching horse movies, dreaming horses, imagining what it's like to be a horse.

Now it's 6:30 or close to 7, and it's dark outside in the winter. Scandal and I set out across the snowy fields for home, under the stars.

I carry a flashlight in one hand to light her way on the paths, and lean over close to her mane for warmth, escaping the night wind. I know she will take good care of me. We're that close.

There's a flood light on at the hay barn and corral at my house. I take off Scandal's saddle and bridle, and brush her to smooth the hair.

In the winter she has a loooooonnnng shaggy coat, like a horse from the north pole.

I feed her some treats, we talk or communicate in our own way, and I break open a bale of hay.

She has a 3 sided shed but is free to roam outside. It's nice to see her have this freedom to roam instead of living in a stall.

It's important to me for Scandal to be happy. If I were her, I'd want that freedom.

I check the heating coil in the water trough to be sure it's working and she has water not ice. Janey, the retired racehorse our vet gave me, and her colt are there too.

My feet feel a little numb from the cold, although I've got them wrapped in celaphane to keep dampness out, am wearing a pair of wool socks and a pair of knee socks, and a pair of rubber riding boots.

Of course I have on long underwear tops and bottoms, wool riding britches, and a winter parka. It's a wonder a person can get a foot up in the stirrup to get on with all these clothes.

My ears are covered with a knitted ear warmer that goes under the riding helmet. One's hands start to get numb in this cold too but this is all unimportant compared to the rewards of horses.

Soon the horses are happily muching. There's a starry sky, a moon reflecting on the snow, and it's sooooo peaceful. I loiter but finally go back to the house. It's time to have supper, take the Irish Setters out for walks, and do homework.

Can't wait for tomorrow afternoon, when Scandal and I share another adventure.

Banana Peel Stories - Times When Something Slipped or Went Wrong - But Everyone Landed on Their Feet

2010-02-24T00:13:00.000-08:00

These stories are all from the times when we lived on Lake Geneva, Wisconsin and I was in junior high or high school.

1 - First Banana Peel Story - When Something Went Wrong - "Sailing 101 and the Crash Landing"

My folks bought an older refurbished class X 16 ft. sailboat for my brother and I to use and signed us up for sailing lessons. I was in about the 7th grade and B.J. was 2 years younger.

Right after we started lessons my Dad decided to have B.J. and I take the sailboat out while he drove next to us in the Boston Whaler. He thought we'd had enough lessons to know the gist of it, and we thought the same about him. We were all wrong.

The wind came up, it got a little gusty and scarey, and Dad yelled for us to take the sailboat back. I was older and holding onto the tiller then. Holding onto it, not really being a skipper.

As the sailboat headed toward the pier, with a rising wind, gathering speed, I waited for my father to yell over to us what to do since I didn't know how to land a sailboat. I could see the people on the pier looked worried as we got close. I didn't know yet about tacking into the wind and letting the sails luff.

Dad was yelling but in the wind we didn't understand what he said. So we, I, kept going. We saw the sunbathers on the pier get up and run away.

Crash! The bow hit the pier, the front plate and stay broke, the jib, mainsail and wooden mast fell over.

B.J. and I, sensing we were supposed to have done this differently, jumped up and ran off the boat all the way up to the house.

The next week our sailing class got to the part about landing the boat.

2- Second Banana Peel Story - A Rogue Wave, A Runaway Speedboat, and 2 Lifeguards

Lake Geneva had tour boats that created gigantic waves when they went by.

I was about 15 years old. One day I was going all out in the Boston Whaler, full throttle, when one of these waves hit just right at an angle. The boat jumped into the air, I lost my grip on the outboard motor handle, and I flew into the air, the water.

From the water, in my clothes, I saw the outboard motor handle swing over to the other side so the boat began to circle back toward me, really flying. This could have been life threatening.

I heard a voice yell - "Over here!" A Gordy's rental ski boat with 2 cute guys about my age roared in with their 80 horsepower mercs, one guy grabbed my arms and pulled me into the boat, and they roared out before the Boston Whaler could hit.

The Boston Whaler went into a pattern of roaring around in figure 8's, with the outboard motor handle swinging back and forth. Each time the handle swung the whole boat jumped into the air and began a different circle.

A crowd gathered on the shore. My rescuers and I joined them. Someone said "Guess we have to wait till it runs out of gas" but another said "let's foul the prop with a ski tow rope." And that's what they did. By then several water safety patrol boats were there too.

They wanted to know who did this. I tried to blend into the crowd. My father showed up. Oh dear.

I was grounded because it was thought I must have been really hot rodding to get thrown out of the boat. Finally my mom convinced my dad that it really was a freak accident.

My mom was grateful to the 2 high school guys who rescued me. They turned out to be swim team competitors who were lifeguards from Michigan. They were done with their lifeguard jobs because it was almost the end of the summer.

So, my mom invited the 2 lifeguards to stay with us for a week in my brother's room, and B.J. slept on the couch. We all became friends and got along quite well.

My steady boyfriend from high school was over there every single minute possible keeping an eye on my lifeguard/rescuers, who were continuing to keep an eye on me.

They may have thought I would have another boating accident at any moment.

Perhaps they thought since they had saved me that it was their duty to continue to be protective.

So when my boyfriend came over the lifeguard - rescue guys were always there too. I have to admit I enjoyed it.

3 - Third Banana Peel Story - The Iceboat Without a Rudder

My dad was co-owner of a class A iceboat. His friend, the other owner, was on the board for the Stock Exchange in Chicago. I guess they both liked risk.

Lake Geneva was 12 miles long and up to 3 miles wide, so it could accommodate an 80 foot long iceboat that had a telephone pole as it's center. The crew rode in a basket made of super thick ropes at the back of the telephone pole. The tiller controlled the angle of the blades on the ice, which protruded out on the sides. The class A ice boat looked a little like a big cross.

It looked like a quiet day, almost no wind, and my dad couldn't find anyone else to crew on the iceboat that day. The crew's job was to move across the rope basket and use their weight to keep the iceboat from tipping over, somersaulting really, on the ice. I only weighted about 110.

The giant telephone pole had a huge mast and sail. We pushed the iceboat to get it going, then hopped in. Everything was ok until the tiller broke.

The wind had come up. We were in a rope basket at the back of an 80 ft telephone pole with a sail full of wind on a lake with mostly a rocky shore. It only takes a little wind to go really fast.

And..we were going really fast. "We'll have to use our weight to try to steer it into the wind' my dad shouted. He released the mainsail sheet to let the boom swing out and try to let air out of the sail, but we were still moving fast, the runners hissing. We leaned way out on one side but the boat seemed to be heading right for the rocks. The runners weren't responding to the weight change.

We went to one side of the crew's basket and half jumped to the other side to throw some real weight into it. The rocks were getting closer and it would be like a car crash, only on ice.

Slowly the runners responded and we began to circle away from the shore. The iceboat kept circling and ran into the wind and eventually it slowed and stopped.

We looked over at the shore but no one was around. My dad said, "Don't ever tell your mother about this."

Storytelling - "My Father and the Spell of the Blue Light" by Kristi Marie Gott

2009-12-15T23:00:00.000-08:00

My father was able to invent a story at the drop of a hat. He told the stories to us in such a realistic way that as children we listened seriously, thinking he was telling us the truth. Then after the story was over we could tell by his facial expression that he had made it all up.

Some of these stories were obviously not true, but we enjoyed them so much that we wished to suspend our belief systems for awhile. and enter into the stories fully.

Once my parents brought home a beautiful antique light made of blue etched glass and hung it from the ceiling. It cast a blue glow over the antique pine dining table.

When we all sat in the dark living room, viewing the blue light in the dining room with awe, I noticed my father's green eyes narrow. He raised his eyebrows at the same time, a sign that he was about to say something interesting.

Thus began his story of "The Spell of the Blue Light." It was like sitting by the campfire listening to stories, except we were home. I was in the third grade or somewhere near that age.

In the semi-dark living room, with the blue light washing over us, my father explained in a soft voice, "I didn't tell you right away, kids, but this blue light casts a spell. When you turn the light on the ghosts of the family who first owned the light, over 100 years ago, come back and sit under the light. If you look closely you can see something now. You can feel that someone is there."

We really did look closely, just in case someone or something was there. It did seem that in the blue glow there might be something different in the air, like shadows, under the light around the dining table. We looked at my father, hypnotized.

His quiet, sing song voice went on, describing the people and what they were doing. When he said, "and that's the story of the spell of the blue light" we were sorry the tale was already over.

I never went through the dining room again without looking at the blue light and
seeing if I "felt" anyone was there.

Having a father who was a storyteller made everything so much more fun. The real spell was the one cast by my father with his storytelling. It was like a magic spell that made ordinary things seem more interesting.

How to Tell Anecdotes, Ira Glass of "This American Life" Explains Storytelling, Anecdotes, and Building Suspense

2009-11-21T19:59:00.001-08:00

To see the whole Ira Glass series on storytelling just click to watch the episodes on youtube. Visit Ira Glass and his award winning show that's on Chicago Public Radio at http://ThisAmericanLife.org. Enjoy listening to a master storyteller online.

Biography Example: Leonardi di Vinci Part 1 of 18

2009-11-19T14:32:00.000-08:00

Antiques Awaken Early Memories for Life Storytelling

2009-11-10T11:30:00.000-08:00

A visit to the local antigue mall awakened childhood memories of a house filled with antigues. At the mall I saw a Primitive Early American "dry sink." The sink was a metal pan sitting in a recessed area on the wood counter. The roughly made drawers wobbled when you used them and the cabinet doors fit with gaps. It took me back to the house in the country full of antiques where I grew up.

Our antiques were mostly from colonial times, Early American, and were more primitive than the elegant antiques found in the later times.

Over the pot scorched pine dining table hung an antique light fixture. Etched blue glass cast a light that was almost like a spell when it was turned on at night. Sitting at the table, next to the rough hewn pine sideboard it was easy to feel like a time traveler going back.

We had a family legend that when the blue antique light was turned on time went back to colonial days, and an early American family appeared, sitting around the table in their colonial clothes. My father, a green-eyed Irishman, was a natural storyteller. He would spin yarn after yarn about the "spell of the blue light."

To this day I prefer antiques for home furniture because they tell a story. All you need is your imagination.

Today, my house has an antique spinning wheel, a pine table from the 1800's, and some early 1900's pressback chairs. Living surrounded by antiques and their stories is a way of life. History and nostalgia are always part of the surroundings.

Storytelling Native American Cherokee Style

2009-11-09T00:39:00.000-08:00

81 Year Old Has Over 5,000 5-Star Ratings, Over 360,000 Views on Youtube for this Life Story Telling Video

2009-05-24T13:36:00.000-07:00

Peter Zimmer, an 81 year old widower from England, has done an incredible video on his life story. His youtube channel has had over 2 million views. You can also visit his youtube channel at:

Geriatric1927

Or visit his website at:

AskGeriatric.com

How to Narrate a Video in Windows Movie Maker to Tell Your Life Story - Video by Kristi Marie Gott

2009-05-18T15:53:00.000-07:00

You may be using photos instead of videos when you tell your life story. As you can see in this Movie Maker video both camcorder video footage and photos can be used to make a video.

For telling your life story with multimedia you can use photos and camcorder video of highlights, and record your own narrative to go with them. As you can see in the video above, it's not very difficult.

It helps to view the silent video and then write either the whole narrative or a list of topics. When you are speaking and recording you won't have to pause to think of what to say next, and it helps eliminate the "ummm."

Video: Tools for Telling Your Life Story

2009-05-13T23:27:00.000-07:00

Autobiography - How and Why to Write One - John Graden from eHow, International Speaker Gives Tips

2009-05-13T23:23:00.000-07:00

Make a Timeline of Your Life Events

2009-03-19T20:23:00.000-07:00

One way to organize the life events before you start writing is to make a timeline.

Divide the timeline into sections, perhaps every 5 or ten years. In each section list the events that stand out as highlights that changed your life.

Later when you tell or write your life story you can launch into anecdotes about these events, the people involved, and the details of the circumstances. Remember, the historical data of each era adds background.

A tale about Christmas during the early 1960's might involve receiving a hula hoop or a pogo stick as a child for a gift. In the 1970's maybe you gave someone a "liesure suit." Gifts in the late 1990's might include electronics and computers.

As you tell your story you'll move through history. Everyone has a wealth of historical data in their memoirs. Your life story is especially important from this standpoint. It's a part of history!

Major Life Changing Events - An Important Part of Your Life Story

2009-03-13T13:29:00.000-07:00

The direction of your life is often changed dramatically by major events.

A move to a new place and home, an award for an achievement, the death of a loved one, someone new coming into your life or any number of events can turn life upside down. When the pieces of life are broken up and rearranged it's like a new chapter, or even a new book about your life story.

We can learn from these major life events. There are experiences of trial and error. Adaptations that we make to adjust to new lives are all part of the life story. Telling a life story can involve the following questions.

1- Which events changed you the most?

2- Did you learn something new?

3- Is there some wisdom you would like to share in your life story that has made a difference?

Do It Yourself Publishing Software for a Book on Your Life Story

2008-12-04T19:18:00.000-08:00

A True Life "Fawlty Towers" - Humorous Life Story About Running a Hotel - Author Says Guests Often Rate Hotels But He Rates the Guests

2008-12-04T19:04:00.000-08:00

Using a Tape Recorder to Make Hurricane Katrina Memoirs - "Heart Like Water"

2008-12-04T18:55:00.000-08:00

"Not Quite What I Was Planning, Six Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure," from Smith Magazine and Harper Perinneal

2008-11-19T19:29:00.000-08:00

Video from CBS on Writing Your Life Story, Natalie Goldberg, "Old Friend from Far Away"

2008-11-02T12:53:00.000-08:00

Perspectives in Life Story Telling

2008-10-23T15:45:00.000-07:00

Out of that jumble of ideas that may come pouring out when you think of writing your life story there will be many perspectives. For example, you could tell your story from a spiritual perspective, a career perspective, or a family perspective. Values you hold to be very dear will be reflected in your story. Perhaps it will turn out to be a story of how you triumphed over a difficult start in life and went on to career success. Or, it may be a tale of overcoming a childhood with a disfunctional family and having a family life as an adult that you cherish.

A perspective or angle of viewing your life will emerge as you tell it or write it, and it's a chance to learn more about yourself. In a way, a life story sometimes functions like a mirror, reflecting your life back to you in a way that is not easy to see without telling your life story.

A theme often emerges, a calling in life, or a lifelong passion. Events unfold, but underlying those events there can be a steady stream of choices that reflect some consistent perspectives.

How to Use Google's Genealogy Toolbar

2008-10-08T10:36:00.000-07:00

Five Steps to Set Up a Life Story Video Interview

2008-06-28T12:46:00.000-07:00

If a full-length book of memoirs is not practical, a life story interview can be made on video. Here are the steps.

1. ORGANIZE. Gather photos, memorabilia, timelines, and family members.

2. OUTLINE.. Write an outline of topics and questions.

3. VIDEO CLIPS. Make a series of brief video clips, from a minute or so long to 10 minutes long. Shorter clips are easier to upload on the computer or send to family and friends.

4. TOPICS. Each video clip can focus on a special topic, such as "Pictures of My Childhood Home" or "The Story of Christmas Holidays in 1950."

5. MAKE CD'S. Copy the video clips onto CD's and share them with family members.

Video: Reasons Why People Enjoy Genealogy and Family History

2008-06-19T00:39:00.000-07:00

My Life Story - I'll Never Forget the Day....

2008-06-13T09:33:00.000-07:00

It was like a scene straight out of Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegon.

"Harvard Milk Day" in Harvard, Illinois, had arrived, with it's parade and festivities to promote dairy products. The year was 1970 and it was a hot June day. I was one of the contestants in the "Milk Day Queen" contest. We had all been photographed by the local papers many times while drinking glasses of milk.

I sat on the back of a red mustang convertible in last Spring's prom dress and rode in the parade as our high school's representative.

I graduated from "Big Foot High School," of Walworth, Wisconsin. It was named after a native American chief who had lived near Geneva Lake, Wisconsin. I was our school's representative.

The Harvard Milk Day parade went down the main street of town and various festive floats made a long line. We milkmaids sat on the backs of the convertibles and waived at the spectators.

There were also floats pulled by tractors, hay wagons with local kids, and local school bands marching.

As the representative from the above named school my car's banner read "Miss Big Foot." The other milkmaids had names like "Miss Lake Geneva" or "Miss Williams Bay." Of course the banner on my car drew some attention.

I've always enjoyed humour so I just rolled with it, smiling and waiving. Occasionally some kids would yell something like, "Hey Miss Big Foot, what size shoe do you wear?" We all shared some good laughter and it was a day I'll never forget.

Triggering Memories for Life Story Writing

2008-06-13T09:21:00.000-07:00

Getting started with writing when faced with a blank computer screen or piece of paper can sometimes be a challenge. Below are some ideas to trigger memories that can be part of a life story.

1. If you had to divide your life into "chapters" what would they be?

2. What have been your favorite interests or hobbies throughout your life, and when did they start?

3. How did you happen to choose your career path?

4. What were the ups and downs you felt during the teen years?

5. What major historical events have taken place in the world during your life and how did these events effect you?

6. What was your elementary school experience like?

7. Are there some causes that you have passionate feelings about and how did you first become interested in them?

8. If you wrote a brief timeline or outline of your life, what would be ten major highlights?

9. What were your favorite places to live and why?

10. Which people influenced you the most in your life?

Ten Ways to Use Multimedia To Tell Your Life Story and Family History

2008-06-12T22:02:00.000-07:00

There are a variety of ways you can use multimedia to tell your life story. These days you can be very creative with multimedia and choices include some of the following.

1. CAMCORDER. Use a camcorder to record a video of some aspects of your life story, or all of it. If you are new to using video software try an easier program such as windows movie maker, since it comes with your computer.

2. SCAN PHOTOS. Scan childhood and family photos into the computer and add them to the storyboard in the video software.

3. SUBTITLES. Add subtitles to the photos and video clips. If you are new to making videos this might sound complicated but it's just more click and choose types of steps.

4. RECORD. Make a vocal recording of a reading of parts of your life story, that plays while showing photos or video clips.

5. VIDEO CLIPS. Visit your childhood home or other important places from your life and make video clips showing them today. Research on the internet to find vintage photos of places or things from different historical eras in your life. For instance, if you grew up in the 1940's you might want to have photos of automobiles from that time.

6. INTERVIEWS. Make lists of questions and interview your family members about shared memories, perhaps of holiday times or other events.

7. HISTORY. Add historical material to give additional interest and perspective to your life story. For instance, if you were a teen-ager during the 1960's describe the national or world events that were taking place. What were you doing on the night the astronauts landed on the moon?

8. TAPE RECORD. Tape or use a digital recorder to record your memories when something triggers them. Try telling your story to a recorder and then transcribe it for a more spontaneous flow.

9. COMBINE. Combine video, music from eras of your life, photos scanned into the computer, subtitles, and more in a series of life stories from different parts of your life.

10. GRAPHICS. Add a graphic of your family tree to the video, and/or photos and videos of the family members.

Genealogy 101 - Your Life Story and Your Family Tree

2008-06-11T18:59:00.000-07:00

Olive O'Riley, 108 Years Old, Visits Her Childhood Home in Broken Hill, Australia, and Tells Her Life Story and Family History on Video

2008-06-04T09:25:00.000-07:00

How To Make a Life Story Video - Making a Film of Your Memoirs and Family History

2008-06-04T08:52:00.000-07:00

How to Publish Your Life Story Using Online Software from Blurb.com

2008-05-24T21:21:00.000-07:00

Storytelling Tips from Brian Sturm at the University of South Carolina at Chapel Hill

2008-05-15T23:09:00.000-07:00

This is an excellent 45 minute long video on "Storytelling Theory and Practice" from Brian Sturm at the Univeristy of South Carolina at Chapel Hill. Tying together all the facts, putting information into a sequence, adding characters, and structuring a story are some of the topics. Enjoy.

Life Story Bloggers - This Video Shows How To Publish A Book From Your Blog

2008-05-07T12:29:00.000-07:00

Are you writing your life story on a blog? Would you like to publish a book made up of those blog posts? The video below shows you the steps to do this.

Video - Novelist Joyce Carol Oates Talks About Writing

2008-05-07T00:22:00.000-07:00

Award winning novelist Joyce Carol Oates talks about the importance of starting your story with people.

Dividing Your Life Story Into Stages

2008-04-19T11:57:00.000-07:00

Starting a life story can be a little like opening a closet you haven't looked at for awhile, and having everything fall out in a heap. Taking all those experiences and organizing them helps separate them into smaller, easier to handle chunks.

There are many different ways to divide the life story experiences into groups. One way I found recently used "The Eight Life Stages." Seeing how one stage, and it's experiences, led to the next stage, helps make the story meaningful. I learned some new things about myself by looking at my life story this way.

You can also visit the webpage for the Cuesta Community College Adult Emeritus class I take on Your Life Story for tips from instructor/facilitator Myla Collier.

A theory of Developmental Stages of Life, by the reknowned Dr. Eric Erikson, have long been accepted worldwide and taught in college classes. A glance at these stages can also help clarify your life story as you strive to put all those details into a timeline or groups of short stories.

Life Story Writer - Pulitzer Prize Winner Frank McCourt, Author of "Angela's Ashes"

2008-03-26T02:20:00.000-07:00

Inspirational Video for Life Story Telling

2008-03-08T21:09:00.000-08:00

Need a creative, inspirational uplift for your life story writing? Watching the video below is one way to get the story rolling.

Growing Up During the 1930's - As Told To Me

2007-11-13T21:37:00.000-08:00

An acquaintance in his mid-70's recently shared the story of his childhood during the Great Depression, and gave me permission to use it on the blog.

Bill was born in Oklahoma in 1932. His mother was of full Cherokee ancestry, and his father was of caucasian ancestry. Soon after his birth the family came to California, where the parents parted due to marital problems.

He remembers living in a small house with a picket fence near an airfield, in the San Fernando Valley. When he was four or five years old he watched parachuters coming down during practice there. Bill and his brother played in the backyard, which was large. He says lots were bigger then.

Bill's mother became ill and he was sent to live in an orphanage of about ten children, which was somewhere in Los Angeles. He remembers his father coming to get him, and taking him to a hospital where his mother lay in bed. She died from pneumonia, and Bill and his brother went to live with his father.

Bill's father worked on farms in the California Central Valley. They lived in a tent. Bill remembers his father dragging a long bag when picking cotton. Bill would sit on the bag to go for a ride while his father pulled it along.

At Christmas when Bill was about six years old he got his first toy. The Christmas Tree was a dried out cotton stalk with cotton balls on it for ornaments. For Christmas Bill got a little car, about four inches long. Up until Bill was ten years old he played with make-believe toys. A block of wood might be a car or a tractor. Bill said he would push these blocks around and make motor sounds, "Vvvrooooom" or "put-put-put."

When Bill was six years old or so, he began working in the fields too, picking cotton or doing other work. He went to school off and on, but the regular farmwork was necessary for survival.

He said his father eventually put some money down on a house, perhaps around 1937. It did not have plumbing or electricity, and was small, about, 600 square feet.Once a week or so they would take a bath in a large metal tub. For a bathroom there was a place with a blanket hanging over a tree limb for privacy, and a hole in the ground with a shovel nearby.

They often only had one type of food at a meal. But Bill says there would be large servings to help them have energy for work. To this day Bill's favorite place to eat is at a buffet where there is a huge variety. They ate very quickly in order to get back to work. Bill says he still eats in a hurry, as eating slowly would have been a luxury.

They didn't have much money. But Bill says he always knew he was loved by his father and brother when he was growing up, both of whom have passed away. When he was growing up he didn't know they were poor, so he just accepted life as it was.

Bill said that he likes to think that when people pass away they become stars, and the good people are the brightest stars.

When Bill was 11, and his brother was 13 years old, his brother managed to join the military service, during WW II. Bill went to school sporadically, as he was needed for field work so they could survive. After the eighth grade he did not attend school any more at all.

When he was about 17 he, too, joined the military service, and he went to Korea. He was injured twice, stabbed by a bayonet, and then hit by shrapnel, and sent to Japan for medical care and recovery.

Hearing Bill H. tell about growing up during the Great Depression gives a personal insight into history. Today Bill, age 74, lives in a beautiful home in Greentrees Village, Florence, Oregon, where he enjoys the Oregon coast scenery. There's a swimming pool heated to the high 80's, a jacuzzi, and other amenities.

It's been a long time since the Great Depression. The memories of the good times he shared with his father and brother are always close to his heart.

Thank you, Bill, for sharing this story.

Countryside, Wildflowers, and Hobson Road

2007-10-27T14:27:00.000-07:00

When I go out into the countryside and see the sun and the green and everything flowering, I say to myself Yes indeed, all that belongs to me! ~Henri Rousseau

It is the summer of 1960 in the midwest. A group of neighborhood children roam fields and forests, exploring the creeks, looking for jack-in-the-pulpit plants, and picking wildflowers. Huge red barns, silos, and farmyards with chickens, dairy cattle, horses, and sheep are part of the landscape.

The days begin with the sounds of roosters crowing, as the early sunlight streams in through the windows. Birds awakening chirp and sing, otherwise it's quiet in the countryside. Leaves rustle or shake in the breeze, and the fields of hay or oats ripple in the wind.

A country lane called Hobson Road has driveways to white clapboard farmhouses surrounded by tall shade trees. Occasionally a car or truck from a nearby farm comes down the road. Black and white dairy cattle graze in green pastures.

A large pond with willow trees has a smaller road next to it. Down that lane there is a circular drive of about 1/2 mile with eight or ten houses scattered around it on small acreages.

Next to one of the long, gravel driveways is a red mailbox and a clump of evergreens. Beyond is a brick ranch house, with evergreens and petunias in the front yard. Several acres stretch behind the house. Then there is a wire fence, and beyond that a field of corn, then a forest.

This was the house, 15 miles outside of Naperville, Illinois, 45 miles west of Chicago, where I lived from age five to age fourteen.

Today, 2007, I hear that the area is heavily populated. But in the 1950's and 1960's, we were a long way from town, and there were only a few friendly neighbors there sharing the peaceful countryside.

Each year there was a Christmas party, that moved from house to house, singing Christmas Carols. We always finished the evening with a potluck at the house of a neighbor who had decorated the basement.

Most basements were cement walls and floors, with windows below ground level that looked out at a "window well" that held the dirt back. The ceiling was the bare underside of the first floor of the house. A few light bulbs with strings hung down.

On the last day of school each year, the children from the surrounding houses were picked up by a neighbor pulling a hay wagon with a tractor. This was the way we celebrated the beginning of summer vacation.

The country school had two or three grades in each room. There were only about ten students in each grade. In the lower grades, when it was time for our class to practice reading, we went to sit at a circular table in the front of the room with the teacher.

Girls wore skirts or dresses, and boys wore slacks and shirts. At the beginning of class we recited the Pledge of Allegiance and sang a song, such as "My Country 'Tis of Thee" or "America The Beautiful."

For recess we would run outside to play in a mowed field with big trees. There were several crabapple trees, but the crabapples were too bitter to eat. The branches of these trees spread out and reached to the ground in places. We used the places under the crabapple trees for meeting places. During school we'd say to our friends "see you under the crabapple tree."

Under the crabapple trees we planned what games to play. A favorite for the girls was pretending to be wild horses. We were all "horse crazy" and we drew pictures of horses on everything. We named horses we saw in pastures, and imagined the day when we could be old enough to ride horses, flying across the land. We could all toss our hair like a horse tossing it's mane, scrape the ground with one foot like a horse pawing, and make noises like horses when they whinney, neigh or nicker.

We would dream of horse names for ourselves and whole horsey backgrounds. One of us might be a black and white spotted horse, with a name like "Beauty," and be from somewhere around the Grand Canyon. The horse's likes and dislikes, personality, and home were all part of the story. We each had two names, our own and our horse name.

Looking back from 2007 at 1960 it's hard to believe it all happened almost 50 years ago. But, it's easy to see where my love of the countryside comes from.

Opening A Closet Full of Memories

2007-10-08T21:56:00.000-07:00

It's not an autobiography of the rich and famous, but it is my own life story, clutched in my arms, as I head into Life Story Writing class.

This week we focused on early childhood. What did our house look like when I was six years old? Who were the kids in the neighborhood? What were the family activities? It's all written down, and the memories have been refreshed.

It's a clear, October morning today. As I drove over to class I saw the sun shining on the Pacific ocean, next to our small town. A group of us visit for awhile on the steps of the Grover Beach Community Center before going inside.

After pushing the long tables together, end to end, there's a bit of rearranging the chairs. Then we sit expectantly, and the conversation quiets. The instructor reads excerpts from life stories that have been published and from associated historical events.

It's a good way to get warmed up, before starting to read our own stories. It's nice to get comfortable with the group, visit a little bit, and have some mental preparation before it's "showtime."

Somebody says, "I want to go first, if it's OK." The rest, who might prefer NOT to go first, smile and nod.

There are some people who may hold back and go last. That's fine too. After three hours of class we're still listening intently to each other reading the true life stories. There's always somebody else who has had similiar experiences, but in a different way.

Each week's writing focuses on a specific time period, such as birth to elementary school. This is an Adult Emeritus class, so people in it are over 50 years old. It's amazing how much people remember from childhood, a brief silly moment, an embarrassing event, or a happy time with kids in the neighborhood. The details can be so vivid. There's too much to write it all down.

It's like opening a closet stuffed so full that everything falls out when you open the door and lands in a heap. Boom. It's a closet full of memories. You have to sort it out. Some things get rearranged.

A chronological approach seems to be the best way to organize the memories as they fall out of the closet. Lining them up by time, according to dates and years, straightens out the jumble and puts them each in a place. Winter, 1954. Summer, 1970.

Then the historical events of that time can be tied in to the story. Internet "on this day in history" sites can give you quick lists of events, trends, and costs. When you went on your first date, what was going on in the world and how much did a movie cost? What style clothing were people wearing? What were the music trends? What kind of cars were they driving?

People, stories, history. The class is over before we know it, and we go out into the noontime sunshine, smiling and waving good-by to each other for another week.

Putting Together Pieces of Our Lives Into One Mozaic

2007-10-06T17:27:00.000-07:00

Is telling our life stories a way of becoming more comfortable with our memories? Could it be a way to organize the jumbled pile that sits in disarray at the back of the mind?

Telling life stories has been a part of human culture since people sat around the fireside in a cave and drew illustrations on the walls. Now we can sit around a table to share our life stories and pass around photos or even show life story videos.

Putting together the pieces of our lives into one mosaic is part of telling a life story. Starting with birth, a chronological narrative that moves from year to year takes the pieces and builds a picture.

Adventure, laughter, drama - they’re all part of your life story, whether you are a quiet homebody or a celebrity. The characteristics of a classic novel with a hero exist in the story of your everyday living. Your struggles against the world, other people, or yourself, create the plot. Your strengths and “fatal flaws” can make your character complex instead of one sided.

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This week my Cuesta College Adult Emeritus Life Story Writing class met for the fourth time this Fall. We sit at several rectangular tables pushed together at the ends to form one long table, and each of us reads at least two pages of our life stories.

The class is held at the Grover Beach Community Center, and it begins at 9:30 am and goes until 12:30 pm, with a breaktime in the middle. Anthropologist Myla Colllier, who has taught at California Polytechnic University in San Luis Obispo and Cuesta Community College, is the instructor.

After each person's weekly life story reading, Myla and the class discuss interesting aspects of the story excerpt. This often includes related historical events which may have been associated with events in the story. For instance, someone who moved to California from the dustbowl during the 1930's would have experienced the depression.

As we read the material we’ve written for this week there is laughter, and sometimes there are tears. There is humor, there is tragedy. The nonjudgmental aspect and the privacy of the class helps us to keep our writing real. Historical events, trends, and styles are woven into the life stories.

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Reflecting on the popularity of life history and personal narrative writing today led me to consider the following question.

What does it mean when people pursue opposites? Two trends today seem contradictory. We see more personal narratives told through life stories, journals, and personal blogs than ever. Books based on life stories have been topping The New York Times Bestseller Lists. At the same time, we spend more time around machines and technology. As life has become more technological, we have become more personal as if to find a balance. Being more modern might be causing us to do more old fashioned storytelling.

This week the top 16 books on the New York Times Bestseller List include 7 personal narratives, and 4 books that are biographical. It’s not necessary today to be a celebrity to write a bestseller, and everyday people writing about their struggles and dreams can appear on the list. “Louder Than Words, A Mother’s Journey in Healing Autism,” by Jenny McCarthy, is listed as number four this week on the bestseller list.

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Sharing personal details of our life stories is common these days, although many of us still remember when our personal lives were kept private. A greater tolerance and a less judgmental attitude means we feel more comfortable about being open than we did before.

Telling a life story can sometimes be like opening the door to the storage closet. You have to dodge the tumbling heap that bursts out and then try to sort through it. Could it be that we are straightening our mental filing systems, and rearranging the facts in our minds? Perhaps it’s a little like giving the house a good spring cleaning, opening all the windows, rearranging the furniture, and redecorating. It can be very refreshing.

At the Hallmark Pressroom an article titled “Journal Writing Increases in Importance” predicts this will be “a banner year for diaries and journaling.” Hallmark offers 75 different journals, and an estimated 12 million journals are sold a year in the U.S.. Writing down thoughts, feelings, and details of our lives is described by Hallmark as part of a personal writing trend today. Some life stories are written with organized facts and others are streams of consciousness.

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Being able to look back at ourselves in a life story from the perspective of a later time helps us to see ourselves as others might see us. We can objectively learn from mistakes, and make plans for the future.

Events that were once painful may be seen from a distance of decades as softened by time. Humorous situations can gain additional comedy with retelling.

As the writers share funny moments with each other the laughter in my Life Story Writing class frequently continues as we end each session and stroll out to our cars.