A few years back, my mom wrote down her life story in a spiral notebook and gave all the kids a copy. I flipped through mine but never sat down with it--always figured I'd get to it someday. But finding it going through a box I was unpacking I decided I'd transcribe the thing, maybe use some photos, and print it up for her to keep at the house to show people.

Now that I'm typing it, I'm noticing how well it's written, and I'm starting to realize how cool a thing it is to have. I'm going to start posting a few passages here. For starters, here's a bit where she's writing about my Grandfather, who died when I was around two:

My Dad worked at various things. Couldn’t get a good job because of his heart–not able to pass a physical. He was the baby of his family. He owned a store (small country) during my early teens but couldn’t say no and people took advantage and he couldn’t afford it. He had a strip mine for awhile, but mostly he made moonshine. That kept us fed and clothed, but Dad drank the profits. He was intelligent, liked by everyone, but had a weakness for alcohol. Our house was always full of menfolk, uncles, cousins, neighbors, and friends–most of them drunk. We grew up with this and never knew anything else–everyone we knew lived this way.