2 girls on sail boat
Zoe and Lauren | Long Island Sound | 1983

Never underestimate the power of writing memories, especially if you want to make sense of your life.

Writing about past events helps you uncover not-so-obvious meaning in your life, important and profound truths possibly having a great effect on you now.

Granted, your memory may not be all that reliable. It’s forgetful and relies on your slanted view of what happened back in the day. But still, writing memories is a therapeutic way to put your life into perspective.

Recalling my early fascination with writing, I discovered why I’m so passionate about helping others use writing as a self-discovery tool and helping them become stronger, clearer, and happy writers.

It started at 15 years old when I lived with 5 other black girls in Darien, Connecticut to attend the ABC program there.

Picture the mid-80s before “multiculturalism”, the precursor to diversity and inclusion, existed.

Why is this significant?

Not only were we the only blacks in the school, but we were also the only blacks in the entire town.

A novelty that soon wore off.

Remembering brought lots of emotion to the surface. Emotions I hadn’t felt in a while all because I wrote this abbreviated list of memories.

A crank caller, proclaiming allegiance to the Klu Klux Klan harassed me for weeks. So much so the police put a trace on the house phone.

I sailed Long Island Sound with my host family.

I wrote tons of letters to family and friends back home because it was the cheapest way to communicate. Long distance calls were a luxury.

Our live-in tutor, Dr. Leonard Krill was the smartest man I had ever met and he was at my disposal. We had the best conversations.

We studied from 6:00 pm to 9:00 pm Sunday through Thursday no matter what.

I hung out in NYC on the weekends sometimes without my parents knowing.

This guy John often bullied me in my Honors French 4 class and I eventually cussed him out. (Maybe he was that crank caller.)

Spending one weekend a month with my host family, and bonding with Lauren, my host sister of the same age helped me endure.

I traveled around the East Coast, going to ABC parties, visiting colleges, and meeting remarkable people.

None of the white boys at the school asked me out. Instead, me and my ABC sisters occasionally hung out on the weekends in Stamford and Norwalk hoping to meet other kids, particularly black boys.

Learning about the diversity of NYC culture from my ABC sisters who were Trinidadian, Jamaican, Sri Lankan, Guyanese, Haitian, Puerto Rican, Bajan, and Dominican.

Experience aside, I was sad and angry most of the time.

Sad about being away from home; I missed everything about home, but my parents didn’t want to hear my desperate pleas to come home. Being there was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I had to suck it up. (I eventually left involuntarily, but that’s another post for another day.)

And mad because of the injustice I saw for the first time in my life: the extreme privilege of some and the acute disadvantage of others. As I reminsced about Darien, a highly affluent community in Fairfield County, CT, I couldn’t help but imagine that it must have blown my 15-year-old mind and pissed me off.

Besides the other girls and the Wales, my host family (RIP Judy), my journal became my go-to for solace and comfort. I poured out my heart on the pages of four composition notebooks during my stay in Darien.

Journaling saved me.

Then there was the school where I had to confront just how different I was every day. My fire red hair layered in a hairstyle we called Feathers. The way I dressed in my edgy acid jeans, a loose-fitting chartreuse sweater, and matching accessories. My music preference was 80s hip hop while my classmates loved James Taylor. A love I couldn’t fathom at all. And this, which made me feel bad about myself: my country sounding accent.

I wanted to belong so bad, especially in Dr. Rubin’s 10th grade Honors English class. I became fascinated with reading fables, interpreting metaphors, and analyzing analogies – pulling apart literature to make sense of the world and find meaning in it.

(How can I forget the didactic prompt we were instructed to use as we read proverbs like “A rolling stone gathers no moss.”? First, what’s it about? Then, what’s it say about? OMG I loved doing that!)

As much as I loved English and as “smart” as I was, I didn’t write well.

Robert H. Jamison Jr. High, a Cleveland Public School back in the day did not adequately prepare me for the rigorous academics I experienced at Darien High School.

I remember the struggles – not having the vocabulary to describe what I felt or thought. Coming to tears during a final exam because I didn’t know how to interpret the meaning of  The Running Fence, a short documentary about a 24-mile, fabric fence stretched along the West Coast. Embarrassed by my C papers that lacked subject-verb agreement and organization, while my classmates wrote perfect, grammatically-correct and well-structured A+ papers.

I was determined to improve because I loved English class so much.

Then I received a chance to show and prove my writing when I learned about the assignment of the century worth 50% of our grade. I-Search, the 10th grade research project, was a big deal.

I finally settled on the topic, Black English. Can you believe I actually found a book, Black English by JL Dillard (1973) in the school library? No one had ever checked it out. I was the first.

I aced I-Search and wrote a compelling case about the challenges faced by black children as bilingual, moving between their black vernacular, a valid form of English, and the standard King’s English in school.

Writing memories about being an ABC girl in Darien surfaced a lot of emotions for me. It wasn’t an easy time, but I appreciate, 35 years later, how the experience shaped me.

My ABC experience in Darien originated my writing practice. That’s writing memories revealed to me.

I recommend you add writing memories to your practice if you’re up for it. It can be therapeutic, eye-opening, and revealing.

Grab your journal and reflect on these: What memories can you write about? What can writing these memories do for you? What are you hoping to discover? For a group exchange, leave a comment below. For a private exchange, email me at zo*@go********.com .