Mining Memorabilia

Like many Midwestern homes, ours has become a cornucopia of stuff. I think about downsizing, and had better get on that or face an estate sale at the end of the line. For now, though, the accumulated memorabilia is the equivalent of a limestone quarry: the stuff of which to build my literary edifices.

Instead of disciplining myself to write a book of fiction in 1986, I continued to collect writings, journals, photographs, clippings, books, musical recordings, posters, and such until they would press hegemony into my 2025 writing space. One book into my autobiography, I am now mining this personal memorabilia to tell my story.

Let’s frame this with a passage from a letter I wrote to a friend:

I got a copy of F. Scott Fitzgerald On Writing from the Book of the Month Club. Though I had little good to say about Fitzgerald before now, there is much of what he says here I find pertinent. I recommend this book; much of it makes sense to me. He speaks of an attic of albums, files and clippings being the bank account of a writer, I look around my study and say, ‘Of course.’ This spring I hope to draw on my account and invest in creative endeavor. Appreciation will come close behind. (Personal Letters, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, April 6, 1986).

I’ve been back and forth with Fitzgerald, but he got this right. The part he missed is the role living memory plays in writing. Sometimes memorabilia can trigger living memory, and that is the point of keeping it. The trouble I’ve found is letting go of it, both literally and figuratively. The best use of attic findings is to allow them to be a springboard for new ideas or a germ of creativity. What writers do here isn’t coal mining. It’s more like panning for gold in California. If an artifact doesn’t present value, we should get rid of it.

Organizing personal memorabilia for use is not a straight forward task. Like anyone, my tendency has been to throw things in a box or folder and tuck them away wherever there is space. As a result, memorabilia is scattered all over the house in a semi-organized mess. The wall of boxes outside my writing space is intimidating and inadequately marked. Boxes are seven high and seven wide, or 49 of them. This doesn’t count the other two walls of boxes, or the trunks, desks, and stashes in the living room and bedroom closet. Since I am following a chronological narrative, it would be best to arrange everything by date order. That in itself would be a too-long task.

There is a lot of writing to be found in memorabilia. That raw material is the easiest to convert to new narratives. Sometimes I quote directly from the past with minimal editing. Sometime I take previous pieces and completely rewrite them while preserving the essence. Either way the presence in the original usually shines through its new use. That’s what a writer wants. By the time I finish book two I expect I won’t have touched half of the memorabilia. If the narrative is good, I’m okay with that.