Mama Told her Stories Over and Over and Over...


Mama always told the same stories-to everyone and anyone who would listen. I heard them so many times I could repeat them word for word AND be one sentence ahead of her!

There were times-like when I was a teen-that those stories were so annoying to hear-yet again. However, she had taught me well that adults should be respected (whatever the personal cost) and one way that respect was demonstrated was by listening in patience (a form of love in this instance) to the stories she wanted to tell.

This picture is of my mother holding her first born son-Bobby. It was taken in January of 1951.

Of course, I am my mothers daughter, so I did the same thing. I told mom's stories and I told my stories and our familial stories. Until the day I caught one of my teens (respectfully not rolling eyes) but mouthing the words (two words ahead of mine) of the story I was telling.

At that point I decided to do a personal check. I began observing how frequently I told the stories, who I was telling them to and their response. My sons (also did not physically roll their eyes-to their credit) showed even less interest and patience in the story telling. I made a decision to stop telling the stories. This decision happened a good 15 or so years ago.

I don't even remember the stories anymore. There are a few stories which they tell each other-some I remember, some I don't. However, I did write the stories down. I did it under the direction and admonition of a therapist. This is what you did way back then before the Internet, before Blogs, before home PCs-you hand wrote (unless you had a typewriter and paper) your journals. Oh thank Heavens for computers!

Just as in business-when they do away with a product-it ends up coming back again or as in TV programs-they come back as re-runs; my child who inspired my story-silence, once said (about 5-7 years ago), "But I miss the stories you used to tell." My response? Well, too bad, I don't remember them anymore.

Journal keeping is a catharsis (as the therapist said) through writing down your stories. To go back and revisit the stories a decade or two later brings another level of catharsis. So, I'm going to pull that journal out and review those stories and then I'll blog them. One last chance for those of you interested in hearing the stories again.

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