Marvel Morgan drugstore was the favorite stop for candy for all the kids in my neighborhood on the southeast edge of Clyde Hill. We saved our allowances and the change from the sofa cushions to buy candy cigarettes, bubblegum cigars, wax red lips, and Pixie Sticks. We’d ride our bikes down 100th Ave NE, cutting through a vacant lot next to Bell, Book and Candle into the Albertson’s parking lot. We always entered Marvel Morgan through the side entrance in the alley, where we’d pile our bikes together by the door, and then mob the store with our hands full of dimes and pennies. Yes, there were penny candies available at that time. Our group usually consisted of about five us. Me, my best friend Mindy, and a couple of the boys from down the street. Often we were followed by a neighborhood dog or two.

It didn’t happen often, but sometimes a kid wasn’t able to scrounge up some change at home, so there was the occasional stealthy pocketing of candy or gum. Although we never told on someone for stealing, it was something we all frowned upon. But we knew the call of candy was too deep to resist sometimes.

My friend Mindy and I especially liked the candy cigarettes. Her mom was quite fashionable and smoked heavily. We wanted to be cool like her, and so we tried sneaking cigarette butts out of her ashtray. Taking a drag from a real cigarette ended up being painful and not cool at all, so we stuck with the candy variety, which tasted much better and didn’t shred our lungs.

Thinking about Marvel Morgan, I remember they had a basement that housed toys and games, and the remnants of a small bowling alley. I don’t remember if the alley was still in use at the time, I don’t think so, but it felt like a relic from another age. While thinking about this, I called my dad, who also grew up in Bellevue, to see if it was my imagination that Marvel Morgan had a bowling alley in the basement. He said it was there and was called Bellevue Bowl. He worked during high school as a pin-setter at that bowling alley back when they had to set up pins by hand instead of using the automatic machines. Dad said that Bellevue Bowl was eventually relocated behind Auto Row, and that he remembered me being in the childcare room there while he and my mom bowled. I vaguely remember that childcare room. It seems like the TV in the room was always tuned to I Love Lucy. Bellevue had several bowling alleys, but that one in the basement of Marvel Morgan seemed somewhat magical and almost spooky. Almost like you could sense the ghosts of teens from the past meeting their friends there and stocking up on candy and ice cream bars from upstairs.

Marvel Morgan also had a good magazine rack. Good Housekeeping for the moms, car magazines for the guys, and teeny bopper magazines for the pre-teen girls. David Cassidy, Bobby Sherman, Donny Osmond, the Jackson Five. My friend Shawn and I would each buy a different magazine when the new ones came out so we could share. I’d usually buy Tiger Beat and she bought 16. We’d spend the afternoon sighing over our favorite stars, and reading all the articles about silly things like what they looked for in a dream girl. Could we be their dream girl? Oh, gosh, we hoped so!

Candy, magazines, bowling, toys, and even office supplies. Marvel Morgan was a great place to shop and hangout with the kids from the neighborhood.

I have a friend who continually teases me about how many coats/jackets I own. (I could easily tease her about her shoes for the same reason, but I digress.) 😃

But I hear her voice in my head when I think about buying a coat. Do I need it? No, probably not. Do I want it? Yes.

I gave in last week and ordered a new down jacket (my old one has seen better days so it was time for a replacement — or at least that’s what I told myself when I ordered the new one).

It should arrive today. If it’s not everything I dreamed of, I can easily return it to REI. If it’s wonderful, then I have another coat for my collection. It’s not like the coats just gather dust, either. I wear them all for different reasons on different days.
But still my friend’s voice echoes in my head.

Do you have the voices of friends or family or enemies or whatevers speaking to you about your life choices? Even silly small things like how many coats you own? Or is it just me?

Still working my way through books on writing personal history (or memoir). I like books with assignments or writing prompts. Gives me the opportunity to flex muscles. Good practice. Sometimes eye-opening. Today I was given a ten minute writing prompt. Write about a former lover and tell why they’re still in on your mind.

Wow. I sat down to write ten minutes on a boyfriend from high school. An hour later I finally came up for air. I’m so grateful I met my husband when I did. He saved me from a life of being involved with the local cocaine dealer. Seriously. But wow, that dangerous young man had touched a part of my heart that still beats for him. That sounds so melodramatic, but it’s true.

Today’s writing made me realize how close we are to living completely different lives. A chance encounter. A conversation. A change of scenery. It can mean the difference between a good life with a decent man, or a dangerous life spent with someone serving multiple prison terms.

I feel like I saved myself just by picking who to go out with one weekend. Sure, we got into a car accident on that date(!), but it turned a corner in my life that had been headed down a dangerous path.

As a furious thunderstorm was rolling in the other night, I watched a crow fly up to the highest branch of a tree. He just sat there looking off into the distance toward the storm. Eventually he flew off and I sort of wondered throughout the storm as it raged where he was and what birds think during storms.

Then Sunday morning I heard a beautiful folk song … the lyrics of the chorus were “Hallelujah, the great storm is over, lift up your wings and fly.” Made me think of the relief and joy the birds might feel when the thunder, lightning, wind, and rain finally stop and the sun comes out again.

Not a big thing, but it touched me.

I have some weeds growing in an area where I want nothing to grow. Ever. So I’ve been using homemade weedkiller. It essentially kills the ground so don’t use it where you might want to grow things in the future. This area I’m treating is at the edge of a walkway full of rocks and gravel. It’ll never house plants.

Anyway. Here’s the recipe I’ve been using: 1 gallon white vinegar, 1 cup salt, 1 Tbsp dish soap. Most people recommend using a sprayer to apply it, but I’ve been using a watering can. Seems to work all right.

While I was out treating the weeds, I was in a part of the yard where I don’t often go. Found some poppies growing (leaving them there for now because they’re so pretty), and also found a large molehill. Drat.

When I was preparing to move, in addition to decluttering, I read some books on making changes. Something that several books mentioned is that when you go through a change in your life, there’s the time of letting go of the old things, a time of building the new things, and sort of an in-between time that one author called the Neutral Zone.

The Neutral Zone can be a time of uncertainty and a time where you feel out of sorts. You’re no longer in your old life but haven’t fully stepped into the new one.

I feel like I’m in the Neutral Zone. I’m all moved so the old life is in the past. But although I’m fully moved now, I’m still in the process of settling into my new life and community. I’m also going through some decisions related to work which leave me feel like I’m just hanging out in that Neutral Zone..

At work, they had us watch a video about how to navigate change. It was meant to be applied to changes in the workplace, but it was applicable to regular life, as well. And it even talked about the concept of a Neutral Zone (although the video called it something else).

Anyway, change seems to be a theme in my life. I had honestly thought things would be all settled in by now. But instead I feel a little uncertain and hesitant. When thinking ahead to this place I am now, I wasn’t taking into account the Neutral Zone.

I took two nights and the better part of three days to spend time alone in a log cabin in the woods overlooking a meadow. I had some writing-related decisions to make, and I wasn’t getting anywhere with the decision-making process at home. I’m pleased to say that I found the answers I was looking for. Amazing what some complete alone time can do. Although this morning I was surrounded by a dozen-plus deer, a coyote, a chipmunk, and a raven, so not really alone. 🙂

There was one thing about my stay at the log cabin that was unfortunate. The beds were all in a loft, and the steps to the loft were too steep for my bad hip to negotiate. So I had to sleep downstairs on the couch instead of in one of the comfy looking beds. I almost fell coming down the steps the first time, so I knew it wouldn’t be safe for me if I had to get up during the night.

I swear the cabin seemed a little bit haunted. More than once I heard what sounded like someone tapping on the door’s window. I also heard what sounded like feet sliding across the wood floors. I kept telling myself when I’d wake up to weird noises that “It’s just the cats.” And then I’d remember my cats weren’t there. The second night I was so tired after not sleeping well on the couch, that I just slept most of the night through. Woke up once to a loud thump, but I think it was all just logs creaking in the change of temperatures at night.

This cabin was located at the horse camp I attended when I was a kid. They used to tell us lots of ghost stories about the area. So I’ve always sort of felt that place was a bit spooky. Being all alone on a secluded hillside away from the main camp area and hearing bumps in the night was actually amusing. They’d set me up perfectly as child for a ghost-filled weekend.

UPDATE: I tried writing a poem today about yesterday’s visit with the herd of deer and the coyote. It seemed like a poetry-worthy moment. But after a good honest try? Nope. Whole lotta nope. Oh, well. It was a cool moment, though. 🙂
UPDATE:

I’m finding that writing memoir is like excavating the past. I’ve been digging in one area, but that leads to another completely different spot full of memories. For me, it’s such a mixed bag.

I’m just focusing on my childhood. Depending on how this goes, I might write about adult years at a later time. But for now, things will probably only go up to about 7th grade. Essentially the ending of a traumatic season of life. Although it’ll be focused on elementary and junior high, it won’t be Young Adult fiction. Or at least not intentionally. Some pretty adult and graphic topics.

For me, memoir has also proven to be a bit triggering. I was reading something aloud at a meeting last night, and suddenly had a flash of memory that stopped me in my tracks. I had to stumble around a bit to get back on track with my reading. People were looking at me with worried expressions, and I could imagine they were wondering if I just had a stroke. If they weren’t so concerned, it might have been embarrassing. But I didn’t feel judged. More like supported.

I think I’m going to head down to the library this afternoon and see if they have copies of Writer’s Digest and The Writer. I’d like to dig up some more articles on writing memoir. I’ve read a lot online, but I really like reading in print better. My eyes aren’t always behaving well when I read on the computer or phone.

The working title of the memoir is Growing Up in Mayberry. It’s both descriptive and ironic. The title will, of course, change, but I find it’s helpful to have a title/label to work with to keep things in focus.

I’ve done so much reading on writing lately, I feel like I’ve been taking a writing class. Here are some of the better books I’ve read, in case you’re interested:

1) On Writing: A Memoir on Craft, by Stephen King
2) Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within, by Natalie Goldberg
3) Bird by Bird; Some Instructions on Writing and Life, by Anne Lamott
4) The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, by Julia Cameron
5) Your Book Starts Here, by Mary Carroll Moore
And a handful of memoirs.

All of these books (other than Your Book Starts Here) are things I’ve read before. But reading them all together, one right after the other, while taking extensive notes along the way, and putting things directly into practice has been interesting. And eye-opening. I feel like something’s being birthed in me. I just wish I didn’t have to juggle it all with my job. But I’m not in a position where I can retire yet. So the juggling will continue for a while.

I do get random days off, though. Tomorrow is one of them, so I hope to get some writing/reading/editing/exploring done. 🙂 And I think it’s time to call my publisher again to see about getting those book rights back.

I was reading a book on writing memoir earlier today and the author said she recommended starting out with a small section. Forget about everything leading up to the section. Assume your reader already knows the people, places and things they’ll need to know. Then dive right into the action, into the heart of the scene or story. If someone’s falling off a cliff, start where they fall and pretend like your reader already knows how they got there, etc..

So I tried her idea. There was a scene that I’ve known I’ve wanted to write about for a long time, but I would get all bogged down in leading up to it, introducing the people, setting the scene, explaining things. This time I started right into the action. I wrote three long-hand pages with no trouble at all. And it was powerful to write! It’s a very disturbing thing that happened when I was in Junior High. And I finally have the core of it out on paper! The rest of the details can be filled in later.

Wow. I really learned something today. Oh, and the author also said to take about twenty minutes prior to writing, basically sitting quietly and meditating on what it is you want to write. I felt very clear-headed about how I wanted to approach it after I sat with it for a while.

She also said that hitting an important scene like this can cause a lot of emotion. I felt tears, I felt angry, I felt empowered. And I still feel kind of shaky and breathless.

Diving into the heart and heat of it. Then fill in the details later. Wow. So simple. But perhaps proving to be so effective.