tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26076649.post4324545265192298705..comments2023-10-24T04:27:01.992-04:00Comments on 23 Acres of Black Dirt: Others' stories I tellsharecropperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15138522185303347235noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26076649.post-75575133363992498362007-03-10T16:01:00.000-05:002007-03-10T16:01:00.000-05:00C, if we write these stories, then they aren't los...C, if we write these stories, then they aren't lost. For me, writing them takes them out of my "busy mind mode". And, the people live.<BR/><BR/>And, we must keep using their expressions or they die - and some of them are so creative. And, some so true for us even now.<BR/><BR/>I think of a friend who played Blanche in "Streetcar Named Desire", our local production, and I can still hear her say, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." She lives with me as I find myself repeating those words more and more often. And, fortunately, the strangers keep coming through with the help I need. And, others live in my stories and my posts and my life.<BR/><BR/>Don't let your mother's stories die; write them down, even if it's brief and just sketches. Someone may need to hear them. Post them and we will share the joy and the pain with you and with her.sharecropperhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15138522185303347235noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26076649.post-43782540475694529172007-03-10T10:11:00.000-05:002007-03-10T10:11:00.000-05:00Share Cropper, you are haunted by the ghost of con...Share Cropper, you are haunted by the ghost of conversations past, my friend. I had to get help for this sort of thing because it was overwhelming me. <BR/><BR/>My therapist taught me a technique of meditation and focused breathing. Then she taught me the "turn off that tape" method, which involved a deliberate cutting off that direction of thinking about certain replays of the past. It worked for me. <BR/><BR/>It's not that I turn off all the memories and questions, but just when I feel myself become overwhelmed by them.<BR/><BR/>My theory about myself is that I feel too much empathy, too much for normal functioning at times. That's why I need a technique. I know others like me. You seem to be one. Perhaps, your empathy does not incapacitate you. That's good if it doesn't.<BR/><BR/>On the other hand, I know folks who seem to have little or no empathy at all.<BR/><BR/>I don't really know if all of this makes sense.June Butlerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01723016934182800437noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26076649.post-12261282509865240842007-03-10T01:13:00.000-05:002007-03-10T01:13:00.000-05:00I am haunted by the idea-- no, the true knowledge-...I am haunted by the idea-- no, the true knowledge-- that I am the last person on earth who knows certain stories my mother told me (she died a year ago). The stories about life in the Depression, the uncle who was a bootlegger, the estrangement between her parents because she was conceived as a result of marital rape; then, the reconciliation that resulted in her younger sister-- who preceded her in death by 10 years, Alzheimer's.<BR/><BR/>No one else knows these stories-- my dad has long since forgotten (doesn't care), my brother never heard them. I read once that for Jews, to live in memory is eternity. That is one reason why the deaths of so many in the holocaust was so devastating: when whole family lines are wiped out, there is no one to hold the memory, and so the hope of eternity vanishes.<BR/><BR/>Your writing has stirred me. Thank you. And thank you for your good and gracious words and prayers on my blog.<BR/><BR/>Pax, C.Ceciliahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10812791378130572065noreply@blogger.com