Biographies of "Ordinary" People

Biographies of "Ordinary" People
Hands, stenciled at the Cave of the Hands — Cueva de Las Manos, Santa Cruz, Argentina (ca. 7300 BCE). Photograph in Public Domain.

As some of you know, I write biographies and memoirs. Often they are focused on someone's ancestor; other times they are my ghostwriting of an individual’s recollections. Here is why I write this sort of thing and why I truly love memorializing stories of others. And, by the way, if you would like me to create a piece for you, please ask.

Everyone has a story.

And everyone has at least one story that will stop your heart.

Don’t let your story, don’t let the essence of you, be forever lost.

How many times have you heard someone say “I wish I had asked her when she was still alive”? Or “I’ll never know the answer to the question because I never got around to asking him”?

How many things have you wanted to share? But there was no time, never the right moment. Others did want to know, but they were caught up in the heyday of life.

Have you ever read a typical newspaper or online obituary? Most contain a few paragraphs of basic bibliographic information (he was born there, married, had children, enjoyed golf and will be missed by his children, grandchildren and so on) — think on it: An entire life reduced to less than 200 words.

Imagine if all you were allowed to say was about two words for every week. Surely you have more to say than that.

Biographies… well, most seem to be an expanded resumé, a catalogue of achievements either in work or personal life. Better than merely 200 or 300 words, but still lacking the essence of you.

Nobody is just a manager, just a dishwasher, just a consultant, just a pianist, just a computer programmer, just a painter, just a parent, just a child.

We are all much the same, yet we are all unique. We sit behind desks, in front of a screen, scrolling through social media; perched on a milk crate; driving to work; attending meetings — a ragtag assortment of misfits, single mothers, retired grandparents, captains of industry, immigrants, hopeful artists, truck drivers, scientists, accomplished chefs — all different, yet alike. Despite not actually belonging anywhere, we all fit in.

This is not vanity. Your story matters.

Imagine a dark stage. In the darkness, one by one, a light comes on representing each person who felt happy in your company, to whom you said a kind word. A person you inspired. Someone you made laugh. A child you comforted. Whether you realize it or not, you have had an impact. The stage in our imagination would transform from darkness to blazing light.

And someday, when you are no longer here with us, your words will have even more impact. They will be a gift.

Your story, or parts of it, will have meaning for someone, likely more than you know. We are all unicorns hiding in plain view.

Again, if you would like me to create a piece for you, please email me, Denise, at loucheleaves@gmail.com.


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