writing it down is important

Earlier this year I taught a class on writing memoirs. The one thing I emphasized was “don’t worry about what it looks or sounds like, the most important thing is to get it down in writing.”
I know, I know that wonderful mandate, “If a job is worth doing, it’s worth doing well.” But I believe there are times when it’s better to do something than absolutely nothing at al. Better a few scraps of paper with notes jotted down regarding family history than absolutely nothing.
Last month I wanted to write a story of how my childless grandparents began having children 10 year into their marriage. I was always fascinated with the story my l ate mother had told me.
Briefly, I wrote that during my grandparents’ 10 years of childlessness they built a comfortable, four-bedroom farm house. Although they did not have children to fill the rooms, they knew they could always use the rooms for guests who preferred to stay the night rather than drive home after dark.
During their childless years they were entrusted with a relative’s chid who had a lost a husband. I remember my mother saying, “About the time they got that little one cleaned up and looking pretty good, his mother re-married and came waltzing back in to pickup the child she had left behind.”
I wrote that after the child left my grandmother was helping my grandfather with the farm work and received a severe blow to her abdomen. She was laid up in bed for several days. A year later my oldest uncle was born, followed by my aunt, another uncle and finally my mother when my grandmother was 40.
The story intrigued me. I wrote a column on it. Just before it submitted it to the editor, I had a couple details I needed to verify.
I called a sister and asked how she remembered the story. “Don’t know. Don’t know anything about it.” I called my mom’s sister. She is the only one of my grandparent’s four children who is still living.
My aunt retired last winter from a job at a county office where she researched county records and files for details on family histories and records. The state said she had to retire, but no one said she had to stay away from the office. When I called, she was putting on her coat to go to the county office to do her volunteer work; researching county records and files for details on family histories and records.
I blurted out, “remember the story of how Grandma was hit in the abdomen and afterward began having children?”
She had no idea what I was talking about. “Let me tell you the story I heard,” she interrupted me. “Mother was hurt in a farm accident early in their marriage. She said she thought that caused her to not have children, but it corrected itself and 11 years later they began having children.”
I went to work, deleted my column and all my notes from the computer. Only my grandmother knew what really happened. I wish she had written it down on the back of an envelope so we all would know.