Edna’s Memoir
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the exotic and dangerous. Enjoy!
Home of the Blues
Edna lived on Beale Street in Memphis, Tennessee, a street known for its bluesy rhythm. Memphis was a much smaller, more intimate place back then. She was one of five children, three girls and two boys. Her warmest memories are of growing up on Beale Street, especially at Christmas time.
She tells of Christmas as warm as a day in May, when she and all her siblings and cousins would laugh and play until Mama called them in for a huge dinner. The street was alive with families, music and joy. Her mama was an excellent cook and all of the aunts brought their specialty dishes as well. The long table was heaped with the dishes of the South, fried chicken and collard greens, candied yams and Hoppin’ John and other mouth-watering delights.
After returning from his arduous service in World War II, her father was disillusioned with the Jim Crow South. He was not happy with that status quo after risking his life for his country, and he moved his family north to a farm in Lockport, Illinois.
The city family became a country family. The adjustment was not easy. Rural Lockport was farm country with few amenities. There was no running water or electricity for a time on their farm and they all learned how to do chores quite foreign to their Memphis upbringing. And the winter weather—Oh my!
Breaking those close family ties made the move painful. Life in Illinois was a challenge. The memories of her years in Memphis, the Blues capitol, are some of Edna’s warmest moments.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Judith’s Memoir
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the exotic and dangerous. Enjoy!
Meeting the Challenges
Judith is a small woman who looks as fragile as a china teacup. She has snow-white hair and walks slowly and deliberately, but without a cane. She lives in a senior building in Chicago and attends most of the exercise classes provided there, preferring those conducted in the swimming pool. Her voice is soft, forcing those who listen to lean in to hear her, but her story is compelling. She has a strong German accent, though she has been in the United States for many years.
Judith was a 16-year-old high school, living in Munich, when the Nazis took power. Her family is Jewish. Changes that rocked their world started to take place almost immediately. Judith was summarily dismissed from her high school. Her father, a physician, lost most, and later all, of his non-Jewish patients. Life had become inconvenient, but the family was not yet alarmed.
As the next few years passed, the doctor became convinced that he must get his family out of Germany. He made arrangements for a distant cousin in Chicago to sponsor Judith and she came to America by ship in 1938. She thinks the ship was the “Aquatania,” but that memory has faded.
Judith arrived in Chicago at age 18, alone and speaking no English. She had always enjoyed a comfortable, middle class lifestyle. Her cousins, whom she had never met, took her into their home and put her to work as a domestic servant, cooking, cleaning and taking care of their children. Judith was trying to save money to send home to her mother, so that she could leave the country also. The cousins kept most of Judith’s wages for “room and board” and she still managed to save a little each week. She got her mother out of Germany just one day before war was declared and the country was sealed off. Her father was arrested and they never found out what happened to him. She remembers him as a kind and generous man.
Judith and her mother set up housekeeping in a small rooming house. She joined the Army cadet nursing corps for the remainder of the war, received nurses training and served her new country here in America, nursing injured U.S. military men.
She met her husband, had two children and worked as a registered nurse throughout her married life. She speaks fondly of her beloved husband, her former neighbors, her two sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren and her days on the south side of Chicago where her favorite spot was always the neighborhood swimming pool.
This miniscule, white-haired hero with the bright blue eyes has quite a story to tell.
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the exotic and dangerous. Enjoy!
Meeting the Challenges
Judith is a small woman who looks as fragile as a china teacup. She has snow-white hair and walks slowly and deliberately, but without a cane. She lives in a senior building in Chicago and attends most of the exercise classes provided there, preferring those conducted in the swimming pool. Her voice is soft, forcing those who listen to lean in to hear her, but her story is compelling. She has a strong German accent, though she has been in the United States for many years.
Judith was a 16-year-old high school, living in Munich, when the Nazis took power. Her family is Jewish. Changes that rocked their world started to take place almost immediately. Judith was summarily dismissed from her high school. Her father, a physician, lost most, and later all, of his non-Jewish patients. Life had become inconvenient, but the family was not yet alarmed.
As the next few years passed, the doctor became convinced that he must get his family out of Germany. He made arrangements for a distant cousin in Chicago to sponsor Judith and she came to America by ship in 1938. She thinks the ship was the “Aquatania,” but that memory has faded.
Judith arrived in Chicago at age 18, alone and speaking no English. She had always enjoyed a comfortable, middle class lifestyle. Her cousins, whom she had never met, took her into their home and put her to work as a domestic servant, cooking, cleaning and taking care of their children. Judith was trying to save money to send home to her mother, so that she could leave the country also. The cousins kept most of Judith’s wages for “room and board” and she still managed to save a little each week. She got her mother out of Germany just one day before war was declared and the country was sealed off. Her father was arrested and they never found out what happened to him. She remembers him as a kind and generous man.
Judith and her mother set up housekeeping in a small rooming house. She joined the Army cadet nursing corps for the remainder of the war, received nurses training and served her new country here in America, nursing injured U.S. military men.
She met her husband, had two children and worked as a registered nurse throughout her married life. She speaks fondly of her beloved husband, her former neighbors, her two sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren and her days on the south side of Chicago where her favorite spot was always the neighborhood swimming pool.
This miniscule, white-haired hero with the bright blue eyes has quite a story to tell.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Merilee’s Memoir
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the sinister and dangerous. Enjoy!
Merilee journeyed with a group of volunteers to build a school in Uganda in Africa. The sponsors were part of a not-for-profit organization focusing on filling the needs of fellow citizens of the world in some of our planet’s poorest regions.
Merilee, at 23, was anxious to serve her fellow human beings by becoming a “human doing,” that is, someone who hears and responds to a call to action. She is a gutsy young woman willing to sacrifice a month of her time to live in less than optimal conditions in a land suffering the effects years of drought and war. She did not really know what to expect.
When her group of 17 volunteers arrived in the Ugandan village by bus, after a long and dusty ride, they were greeted effusively. The people of the village, dressed in bright colors, most of them barefoot, lined the dirt road leading into the conclave of huts. They were singing and chanting and their faces glowed with the most beautiful smiles.
As the group began their work the next day, they labored for hours in the hot African sun. The villagers worked right along side the American volunteers. Donated building materials were assembled and the walls began to grow as the days passed.
At night, the Americans were bused to a town almost two hours away on the bumpy roads to a small, unglamorous hotel with limited hot water and spotty electrical service. They quickly realized, after a few days, what a lucky and pampered society they came from back in the States.
After 23 days, the project was finished and the dedication ceremony took place under a blazing sun. The villagers were dressed in their best. They honored and thanked the volunteer group with singing and dancing and the awarding of a plaque for Merilee and her group to bring home. There was also a plaque installed on the school site with the name of the organization and the date of the building’s completion.
Merilee returned home with her fellow workers and had a deeper understanding of the human condition and what it meant to serve others. She never saw her surroundings in the same way again. Gratitude abounds in Merilee’s life.
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the sinister and dangerous. Enjoy!
Merilee journeyed with a group of volunteers to build a school in Uganda in Africa. The sponsors were part of a not-for-profit organization focusing on filling the needs of fellow citizens of the world in some of our planet’s poorest regions.
Merilee, at 23, was anxious to serve her fellow human beings by becoming a “human doing,” that is, someone who hears and responds to a call to action. She is a gutsy young woman willing to sacrifice a month of her time to live in less than optimal conditions in a land suffering the effects years of drought and war. She did not really know what to expect.
When her group of 17 volunteers arrived in the Ugandan village by bus, after a long and dusty ride, they were greeted effusively. The people of the village, dressed in bright colors, most of them barefoot, lined the dirt road leading into the conclave of huts. They were singing and chanting and their faces glowed with the most beautiful smiles.
As the group began their work the next day, they labored for hours in the hot African sun. The villagers worked right along side the American volunteers. Donated building materials were assembled and the walls began to grow as the days passed.
At night, the Americans were bused to a town almost two hours away on the bumpy roads to a small, unglamorous hotel with limited hot water and spotty electrical service. They quickly realized, after a few days, what a lucky and pampered society they came from back in the States.
After 23 days, the project was finished and the dedication ceremony took place under a blazing sun. The villagers were dressed in their best. They honored and thanked the volunteer group with singing and dancing and the awarding of a plaque for Merilee and her group to bring home. There was also a plaque installed on the school site with the name of the organization and the date of the building’s completion.
Merilee returned home with her fellow workers and had a deeper understanding of the human condition and what it meant to serve others. She never saw her surroundings in the same way again. Gratitude abounds in Merilee’s life.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Victor's Memoir
Victor’s Memoir
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the sinister and dangerous. Enjoy!
Victor is and has been a husband, a father, a son—but his very favorite role in life is “Grandpa.” When asked to bring in a photograph that tells a story, he brought in color photos of his three grandkids, now ages 15-19.
A few years ago, Victor reached retirement age and left his job at Lucent Technologies. Feeling bored, he tried joining his wife, Wanda, in the real estate business. He got his real estate license and began working, but quickly discovered it was definitely not for him.
As if on cue, another opportunity appeared. His daughter, the mother of his three grandchildren, was offered a wonderful job. She was torn, as many mothers are, at the thought of leaving her children, then 5, 7 and 9, in daycare or after school care.
Not many grandfathers would take this on, but Victor stepped up and volunteered to be the children’s full time babysitter. She accepted his offer.
Victor writes of these as being the most wonderful years of his life. He was a hands-on babysitter, helping with homework, supervising arts and crafts, serving as “teacher” when they played “school,” and as “husband” when the youngest, a little girl, wanted to play “house.” What would make most grandpas groan, Victor jumped into with both feet, eagerly becoming mentor and playmate to these three lucky children.
He wiped a few tears away when reading his story to the class. Those memories were obviously precious and touching to him. Victor remembers them with clarity and delight and I am sure his grandchildren feel a special closeness to this ordinary, yet extraordinary man.
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the sinister and dangerous. Enjoy!
Victor is and has been a husband, a father, a son—but his very favorite role in life is “Grandpa.” When asked to bring in a photograph that tells a story, he brought in color photos of his three grandkids, now ages 15-19.
A few years ago, Victor reached retirement age and left his job at Lucent Technologies. Feeling bored, he tried joining his wife, Wanda, in the real estate business. He got his real estate license and began working, but quickly discovered it was definitely not for him.
As if on cue, another opportunity appeared. His daughter, the mother of his three grandchildren, was offered a wonderful job. She was torn, as many mothers are, at the thought of leaving her children, then 5, 7 and 9, in daycare or after school care.
Not many grandfathers would take this on, but Victor stepped up and volunteered to be the children’s full time babysitter. She accepted his offer.
Victor writes of these as being the most wonderful years of his life. He was a hands-on babysitter, helping with homework, supervising arts and crafts, serving as “teacher” when they played “school,” and as “husband” when the youngest, a little girl, wanted to play “house.” What would make most grandpas groan, Victor jumped into with both feet, eagerly becoming mentor and playmate to these three lucky children.
He wiped a few tears away when reading his story to the class. Those memories were obviously precious and touching to him. Victor remembers them with clarity and delight and I am sure his grandchildren feel a special closeness to this ordinary, yet extraordinary man.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Breaking the Ice
John’s Memoir
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the exotic and dangerous. Enjoy!
Breaking the Ice
Memories of cold weather and his boyhood friends came out in John’s memories of small town winter adventure. “Mom didn’t find out until much later,” John declared after he told us his terrifying tale of his “gang” and their winter escapades. John, or Blade, as he was known back then, grew up in Streator, Illinois in the 1940s.
As young daredevils will do, he and his friends used to go looking for some activity to stir the adrenaline and the blood in that sleepy, small town—especially in winter. His gang of friends included Shorty, Rib, Pony and Harry. They would gather at a pond near Shorty’s farm, bringing their ice skates for a game of hockey. They used tree limbs for hockey sticks, a flattened tin can for a puck, and their skates were the kind that clipped onto their sturdy work shoes.
As the game progressed, it became a bore and they decided to move to the center of the pond, smashing a hole in the ice and taking turns jumping over it. While this does not make a great deal of sense to most of us, the boys were enthralled by the heart-stopping challenge.
Logic tells us that if the ice is thin enough to smash a hole in it with a tree limb, it is probably pretty unstable to begin with! They heard a series of loud cracks and scrambled to the pond edge for safety. Harry went through the hole in the ice and the boys formed a chain held together with their hands and tree limb hockey sticks and managed to drag him to safety.
John (Blade) doesn’t remember what any of those boys told their parents that evening, but bets that it was a pretty far stretch of the truth. As he admitted freely, his mother didn’t learn the facts of that day’s near calamity until much, much later. Probably when he was too old to punish!
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the exotic and dangerous. Enjoy!
Breaking the Ice
Memories of cold weather and his boyhood friends came out in John’s memories of small town winter adventure. “Mom didn’t find out until much later,” John declared after he told us his terrifying tale of his “gang” and their winter escapades. John, or Blade, as he was known back then, grew up in Streator, Illinois in the 1940s.
As young daredevils will do, he and his friends used to go looking for some activity to stir the adrenaline and the blood in that sleepy, small town—especially in winter. His gang of friends included Shorty, Rib, Pony and Harry. They would gather at a pond near Shorty’s farm, bringing their ice skates for a game of hockey. They used tree limbs for hockey sticks, a flattened tin can for a puck, and their skates were the kind that clipped onto their sturdy work shoes.
As the game progressed, it became a bore and they decided to move to the center of the pond, smashing a hole in the ice and taking turns jumping over it. While this does not make a great deal of sense to most of us, the boys were enthralled by the heart-stopping challenge.
Logic tells us that if the ice is thin enough to smash a hole in it with a tree limb, it is probably pretty unstable to begin with! They heard a series of loud cracks and scrambled to the pond edge for safety. Harry went through the hole in the ice and the boys formed a chain held together with their hands and tree limb hockey sticks and managed to drag him to safety.
John (Blade) doesn’t remember what any of those boys told their parents that evening, but bets that it was a pretty far stretch of the truth. As he admitted freely, his mother didn’t learn the facts of that day’s near calamity until much, much later. Probably when he was too old to punish!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Evolution of a Neighborhood
Sophie’s Memoir
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the sinister and dangerous. Enjoy!
Evolution of a Neighborhood
Sophie was born in Hegewisch, a unique east side Chicago neighborhood which has a small town, community atmosphere. When Sophie lived there, the neighborhood was mostly made up of Polish immigrants and their succeeding generations.
Sophie was reluctant to write her stories at first, thinking she was being “boastful,” but her story is one of the rich history of a gritty, industrial neighborhood and the families and working people who lived there. Sophie lived in her family home for 70 years before moving into a senior apartment house to be closer to her grown children. She was born in that Hegewisch bungalow, went to school in the neighborhood, eventually married and the two generations lived together. Three children came along and were raised in the sturdy brick bungalow as well.
This was the heyday of the Chicago steel industry. Almost everyone in the area either worked for the mills or worked for a business supported by the mill workers. The air was thick with the noise of a heavy duty industry, as well as the haze of filthy air. Everyone had a good job. Work was plentiful, union contracts assured that the steelworkers made a good living. Multi-generations of families signed on at the mills right out of high school. The alderman fielded constant complaints about the noise and dust.
Over time, the air became cleaner and the noise abated. The steel industry was grinding to a halt and the mills eventually shut down forever, forcing Hegewisch to reinvent itself. The alderman wryly joked that the complaints about noise and pollution were replaced by complaints of unemployment. Yet the neighbors remained close and united.
Sophie was married by this time and had her three children. She cared for them and kept house during the day, but went to night school several evenings each week. It took her eight years to get a college degree, majoring in English. She got a good job downtown as an editor for a trade publication and was the major breadwinner for the family for 20 years. She is a widow now, still turning out great writing—now the stories are about her life!
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the sinister and dangerous. Enjoy!
Evolution of a Neighborhood
Sophie was born in Hegewisch, a unique east side Chicago neighborhood which has a small town, community atmosphere. When Sophie lived there, the neighborhood was mostly made up of Polish immigrants and their succeeding generations.
Sophie was reluctant to write her stories at first, thinking she was being “boastful,” but her story is one of the rich history of a gritty, industrial neighborhood and the families and working people who lived there. Sophie lived in her family home for 70 years before moving into a senior apartment house to be closer to her grown children. She was born in that Hegewisch bungalow, went to school in the neighborhood, eventually married and the two generations lived together. Three children came along and were raised in the sturdy brick bungalow as well.
This was the heyday of the Chicago steel industry. Almost everyone in the area either worked for the mills or worked for a business supported by the mill workers. The air was thick with the noise of a heavy duty industry, as well as the haze of filthy air. Everyone had a good job. Work was plentiful, union contracts assured that the steelworkers made a good living. Multi-generations of families signed on at the mills right out of high school. The alderman fielded constant complaints about the noise and dust.
Over time, the air became cleaner and the noise abated. The steel industry was grinding to a halt and the mills eventually shut down forever, forcing Hegewisch to reinvent itself. The alderman wryly joked that the complaints about noise and pollution were replaced by complaints of unemployment. Yet the neighbors remained close and united.
Sophie was married by this time and had her three children. She cared for them and kept house during the day, but went to night school several evenings each week. It took her eight years to get a college degree, majoring in English. She got a good job downtown as an editor for a trade publication and was the major breadwinner for the family for 20 years. She is a widow now, still turning out great writing—now the stories are about her life!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Building a Dream, One Log at a Time
Carl and Annie's Memoir
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the sinister and dangerous. Enjoy!
Building the Dream, One Log at a Time
How many of us can turn our life dreams into our life story?
Carl and Annie knew they wanted to build a log home in the wonderful, Wild West, far from town and the intensity of city life. No neighbors, no clocks, no schedules. Year after year, they loaded up their RV and headed toward the sunset searching for just the right location for their dream home.
They both worked hard at jobs that did not hold their hearts—he a maintenance engineer for the town they lived in and she an administrative assistant.
Finally, they came upon a piece of property that fulfilled their every wish. A little spot near Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, in the foothills, but rugged enough to satisfy their wilderness quest. They purchased it and began looking into log home plans.
The kit was ordered for their three-bedroom home with a large great room and massive stone fireplace. The truck delivered all the components for their new home, struggling up the gravel road to the building site. All the materials were there. Now all they had to do was to put them together!
Retirement still loomed a few years ahead for both of them, but they want to be ready when they are finally free to enjoy their wilderness years. The RV was provisioned with everything they might need for a few months away from civilization. Carl and Annie headed west, with their border collie, Herbie.
Knowing the nearest grocery or hardware store is more than 20 miles away, they tried to think of everything. They arrived at the building site and began clearing the land to lay the foundation for their new home. Using over a month of their accumulated vacation time, they got a good start on the cabin. They journaled the progress and took pictures each step of the way.
There were a few neighbors within a short distance, and Carl learned to appreciate their knowledge and help while Annie enjoyed getting advice on the wilderness existence from the local women. Even Herbie made great friends among the nearby dogs. One was part wolf!
When Carl and Annie attended the Lifestories workshop, the home was almost complete. It was early spring and they were each due to retire within a few months. They are ecstatically looking forward to the rest of their life’s journey together.
While most of us expect to enjoy the accoutrements of our modern world, Carl and Annie find peace and serenity with the simple pleasures of nature.
By Rosanne Gulisano
I blog about snippets and snapshots of the memoirs and life stories of everyday folks attending my Lifestories workshops. I have changed the names, but the stories are the real thing, from the plain and simple to the sinister and dangerous. Enjoy!
Building the Dream, One Log at a Time
How many of us can turn our life dreams into our life story?
Carl and Annie knew they wanted to build a log home in the wonderful, Wild West, far from town and the intensity of city life. No neighbors, no clocks, no schedules. Year after year, they loaded up their RV and headed toward the sunset searching for just the right location for their dream home.
They both worked hard at jobs that did not hold their hearts—he a maintenance engineer for the town they lived in and she an administrative assistant.
Finally, they came upon a piece of property that fulfilled their every wish. A little spot near Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, in the foothills, but rugged enough to satisfy their wilderness quest. They purchased it and began looking into log home plans.
The kit was ordered for their three-bedroom home with a large great room and massive stone fireplace. The truck delivered all the components for their new home, struggling up the gravel road to the building site. All the materials were there. Now all they had to do was to put them together!
Retirement still loomed a few years ahead for both of them, but they want to be ready when they are finally free to enjoy their wilderness years. The RV was provisioned with everything they might need for a few months away from civilization. Carl and Annie headed west, with their border collie, Herbie.
Knowing the nearest grocery or hardware store is more than 20 miles away, they tried to think of everything. They arrived at the building site and began clearing the land to lay the foundation for their new home. Using over a month of their accumulated vacation time, they got a good start on the cabin. They journaled the progress and took pictures each step of the way.
There were a few neighbors within a short distance, and Carl learned to appreciate their knowledge and help while Annie enjoyed getting advice on the wilderness existence from the local women. Even Herbie made great friends among the nearby dogs. One was part wolf!
When Carl and Annie attended the Lifestories workshop, the home was almost complete. It was early spring and they were each due to retire within a few months. They are ecstatically looking forward to the rest of their life’s journey together.
While most of us expect to enjoy the accoutrements of our modern world, Carl and Annie find peace and serenity with the simple pleasures of nature.
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