(no subject)

[nowiletgo]

I've started a writing project with my grandmother.  Every Tuesday, when Kevin teaches night school, I go over to my childhood house, the same house that my grandma lived since I was three months old, and we sit outside at a table and talk.  More precisely, she talks, and I type.  A few years ago, she joined a writing group at church that focused on memoirs.  She really took it. Along the way, I gave her a few writing books, critiqued her stories and began to really enjoy these vignettes she wrote about growing up during The Depression in small-town Indiana.  It hought these tales of hardship and WWII were so interesting, that I decided to rewrite them for her. And so, we sit and she talks about how her 5th grade teacher would map Hitler's war path every day at the beginning of school.  She talks about crossing the frozen lake to get to school with her father because it's too cold for the car to start.  She talks about how her town threw a huge parade supporting Alf Landon's run against FDR (and how she was bitterly disappointed and surprised when Landon lost).  The stories are interesting, and I sit there, typing, repeating to myself "remember this, remember this," because as she's talking, I can hear her age.  
I don't know what will come of these stories.  They're interesting, and they do seem like something I would have liked to read as a child, but I feel silly for getting my expectations up like that.  I know I shouldn't. I know that just completing these for her to see and for the family to read should be enough, but, of course, I want more.  As for now, I'll keep on rewriting and see what comes.  If anything, it's great material.