Mother's Memoirs

By Susan Knight

 

                                                           

A few years ago I started a blog called “Mother’s Memoirs.” I started it because my daughter, Jewely, gave me one of those fill-in-the-blanks books. Instead of filling in the blanks, I chose to blog about it so all my kids could read my answers, easily, on-line—where they always seem to be. I figured my daughter gave me the book because she wanted to know about my life, but, bless her heart, I think she just knows I like to write, I love family history, and thought it would be a great gift for me. The reason I know this is because . . . she’s never visited my blog.

“What’s the name of it again?” she asked as I pouted and tried to make her feel guilty.

I’ve reached that age where I actually do like to write about myself. Not because I’m vain or self-serving, but because there are things I’ve done in my life that I want my children to know about. And not just the wonderful and great stuff, but the small and subtle things I’ve lived and done.

For instance, in 1974 or thereabouts, I attended a John Denver concert in Philadelphia. The reason why it meant so much to me was because I had just returned from living in Boulder, Colorado for a year. I confess I wasn’t “into” John Denver before I went to Boulder, but almost everyone I met was there because of John Denver’s music.
 

Two of my best friends from high school indulged me and attended the concert with me. I was in my glory. It was (almost) heaven . . .

I’ve been playing the CD of this concert lately and singing merrily along, harmonizing at times, reminiscing always. I’m twenty-one again and at that concert when I play the CD. I re-live my fantastic year in Boulder where I climbed mountains, pondered my life, lived one with nature, a happy pauper. In a word, it was a year of adventure. In those days, as a youth, the big thing was to find yourself. Discovery. I found myself there.
 

Flatirons, Boulder, Colo.

I do so want my children to know how much this music means to me. I’m not sure if it’s just the music, but also the experiences I had, woven into the songs. Mountains, nature, splendor, stars, campfires, snow—all the things that excited my young heart. The thrill of climbing Green Mountain, then looking down and realizing how small the trees were—and the people weren’t seen at all. I wrote a song about it.

 

I’m at the age when I want to leave something behind of me. I want to be sure my kids really know who I am, even the small inklings. I am the sum of all the rich experiences I’ve had in my (very long) life. My memoirs are my legacy.

 

I only hope they’ll read about me one day . . .