Thanks for a beautiful, and beautifully written, memoir. Twenty years after my husband and I sold the first home we bought, it came on the market, and we went to the open house. It was upscaled, updated, and priced quadruple what we'd paid for it. The kitchen had granite counters, but the newly tiled floor didn't have a Little Tikes kitchen in the middle. Upstairs, the 3 bedrooms lacked the wall-to-wall beds for our 5 kids and us. But in the basement, on the wall where the phone had hung (remember landlines?), the penciled numbers of our friends remained.
What a beautifully crafted piece of writing. It drew me into it slowly and gently. I almost cried and then at the end there was a sense of rescue. Thank you!
What a beautifully written memoir. It is so evocative, which I guess is what good writing is supposed to be.
In 1974 I did the reverse, moving from the West Coast where I grew up to Minneapolis. I was twenty-one. My older sister, seventeen months older than I, had been killed in a car accident and I had no idea how to continue living without her. Moving to Minneapolis with a friend seemed like a good plan. And it was.
Later. Forty-one years later to be exact, I returned to San Francisco. But Minnesota was very good to me, including a marriage to a very fine man, two fine children, and friends to last for eternity. Unfortunately and tragically for our family, my husband had an addiction he could not kick and I had to end the marriage. Eventually, I moved back west, but it broke my heart. This was in spite of the fact that I am happy to be here and happily remarried.
When I visit Minnesota now, it is like traversing a mosaic-like quilt, exquisitely rich with memories at every turn. The memories are so deep they hurt, but in a good way. Like the writer’s.
You won my heart with this story. Most of us have a version of it and I can’t put mine into words. You made me smile and want to shed a tear but after I thought about how you so eloquently shared your story I am grateful that I am appreciative of the past even if parts hurt.
A nice trip back in time to a place I’ve never been but could imagine and made vivid by your description and with a sense of nostalgia and loss that avoided maudlin and excited empathy. Your postscript made me laugh out loud which is a rare treat when it is unexpected and i think this was because it it undermined the previous message of the memoirist having finally arrived where she needed to be and no longer open to change which seemed dubious as one read it. There was also the juxtaposition with the younger self who was reluctant to change and explore but did despite her misgivings. All very skilful I think. No stinking zen here and as usual literature at odds with idea of there being no self or continuity of character. Conversational style reminiscent of the playing and writing of a good jazz player or memoirist like Art Pepper or Hampton Hawes.
Mar 11, 2023·edited Mar 11, 2023Liked by Elizabeth Berg
What a story! You took me right there to your once idyllic but not forever apt in SF. This story of growing and healing brings a tug to my heart. If I were a songwriter I would so want to work with your memoir. Beautiful and heartfelt.
Much of what you wrote parallels my own beginnings. I gail from Ohio and married in 75’
then transplanted to Los Angeles immediately so my then husband could follow his dream into the Industry. I too am an RN. This essay touched me - bitter sweet. To be sure. Thanks.
I would have to opine that the love did not end: our lives continue to fill with relationships, many of which develop into loving connections. I've been thankful throughout my life that, despite many strange twists and turns, some of which I would have preferred to have avoided, I have memories, as do you, that produce emotions that are definitely not unpleasant. I loved your story, down to the charming postscript!
Hi, Pam! I'm honored that you want to become a paid subscriber. I think you can pay month by month, but I don't really handle that end of things, so I forwarded your message to Substack. Thanks!
Thanks for a beautiful, and beautifully written, memoir. Twenty years after my husband and I sold the first home we bought, it came on the market, and we went to the open house. It was upscaled, updated, and priced quadruple what we'd paid for it. The kitchen had granite counters, but the newly tiled floor didn't have a Little Tikes kitchen in the middle. Upstairs, the 3 bedrooms lacked the wall-to-wall beds for our 5 kids and us. But in the basement, on the wall where the phone had hung (remember landlines?), the penciled numbers of our friends remained.
What a beautifully crafted piece of writing. It drew me into it slowly and gently. I almost cried and then at the end there was a sense of rescue. Thank you!
What a beautifully written memoir. It is so evocative, which I guess is what good writing is supposed to be.
In 1974 I did the reverse, moving from the West Coast where I grew up to Minneapolis. I was twenty-one. My older sister, seventeen months older than I, had been killed in a car accident and I had no idea how to continue living without her. Moving to Minneapolis with a friend seemed like a good plan. And it was.
Later. Forty-one years later to be exact, I returned to San Francisco. But Minnesota was very good to me, including a marriage to a very fine man, two fine children, and friends to last for eternity. Unfortunately and tragically for our family, my husband had an addiction he could not kick and I had to end the marriage. Eventually, I moved back west, but it broke my heart. This was in spite of the fact that I am happy to be here and happily remarried.
When I visit Minnesota now, it is like traversing a mosaic-like quilt, exquisitely rich with memories at every turn. The memories are so deep they hurt, but in a good way. Like the writer’s.
You won my heart with this story. Most of us have a version of it and I can’t put mine into words. You made me smile and want to shed a tear but after I thought about how you so eloquently shared your story I am grateful that I am appreciative of the past even if parts hurt.
A nice trip back in time to a place I’ve never been but could imagine and made vivid by your description and with a sense of nostalgia and loss that avoided maudlin and excited empathy. Your postscript made me laugh out loud which is a rare treat when it is unexpected and i think this was because it it undermined the previous message of the memoirist having finally arrived where she needed to be and no longer open to change which seemed dubious as one read it. There was also the juxtaposition with the younger self who was reluctant to change and explore but did despite her misgivings. All very skilful I think. No stinking zen here and as usual literature at odds with idea of there being no self or continuity of character. Conversational style reminiscent of the playing and writing of a good jazz player or memoirist like Art Pepper or Hampton Hawes.
What a story! You took me right there to your once idyllic but not forever apt in SF. This story of growing and healing brings a tug to my heart. If I were a songwriter I would so want to work with your memoir. Beautiful and heartfelt.
Much of what you wrote parallels my own beginnings. I gail from Ohio and married in 75’
then transplanted to Los Angeles immediately so my then husband could follow his dream into the Industry. I too am an RN. This essay touched me - bitter sweet. To be sure. Thanks.
I would have to opine that the love did not end: our lives continue to fill with relationships, many of which develop into loving connections. I've been thankful throughout my life that, despite many strange twists and turns, some of which I would have preferred to have avoided, I have memories, as do you, that produce emotions that are definitely not unpleasant. I loved your story, down to the charming postscript!
Thank you for this gift of love and up-lifting self-awareness.
Thank YOU!
Thank you so much for your comment.
Thanks so much, Janice!
Thank you, Karen.
Oh this is so moving!
Hi, Pam! I'm honored that you want to become a paid subscriber. I think you can pay month by month, but I don't really handle that end of things, so I forwarded your message to Substack. Thanks!
Thank you so much!