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I am writing these childhood stories from age segments. This one belongs to one of the very first age group. I remember a few from here very clearly, but not many of them. Any help you can give me would be appreciated.

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Dressing for success.

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This is yet another of the short childhood memories I am writing. Most of these take place on the farm in the country in the Southern USA.

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I was sent to my first cardiologist but the one I found by hunting on my own turned out to be just right for me.

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Waiting for Irene is a personal essay, listed here in the Memoir category. I wrote it for a specific small literary magazine, specializing in personal essays. It is not a travel article, even though it has some characteristics of that type of narrative. You will find some quotes in the text, which afford the opportunity to link the narrator's personal experiences to a wider context. Feedback: Do you find the time shifts between now (Jan. 2012), the recent past (August 2011) and the remote past confusing? If so, please give me specific feedback on which passages are unclear. Are the visual images clear, letting you see the various locations? Are there enough specific place names to ground the narrative, yet not clutter up the emotional impact with travel-article-like details? This essay explains why I had such a long gap in my reading/reviewing on this site back in Aug./Sept.!

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A boy’s summer rite of passage and a memorable World Series are recalled.

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This is the true story of how I became a Saints fan, and why. :)

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This is one of many personal memories I am doing for my daughter. Maybe I will try to put them together in some fashion for publication. One has been published. I want to know how you reacted to these stories of a time most of you did not live through. It was country living much unlike city living. I appreciated your reviews.

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This is another of the childhood memories I am writing for my daughter. These come from growing up in the country in the South as an only child of older parents. The world looked a bit different.

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Another of the family history I am doing for my daughter.

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This is part of a group of stories I am writing for my daughter as family history. It is Southern as is the language. I want you to simply tell me what you think.

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I decided to write this after we had our son. I never thought as myself as a rather Christmas-y guy, but having kids can change that. It is a vivid memory, and the only one of Christmas I can remember.

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In the first half of this story, my brother tries boxing after joining the Merchant Marines and serving in the Atlantic and Pacific during the occupation. No doubt I had interesting brothers who lived in interesting times. Is this too condensed, should I expand it more? Thanks for your suggestions.

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Memories of a pickup basketball game I was in and why it meant something special.

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I wrote this unfinished story for my sister who can't remember very well our brother who died as a POW in Korea. She was born in '44 and he died in '51. I'm hoping to finish this in a few chunks. I don't see it as book-length but rather as a short memoir. The Greatest Generation had their families at home, their little sisters wishing they would return in one piece. So the little sisters were wounded too, emotionally scarred forever by a horrible war and its aftermath, the Korean conflict. My brother went from Occupying Army to combat in North Korea, where he starved on a 3 month hike to China. Some of his buddies survived miraculously and are old fellows now.

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A small tribute to my favorite pet ever. I don't expect this one to win any awards. I just wanted to share it with my friends.

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My story is a novelistic yet factual account of my personal journey of moving to India with my husband. I am in search of adventure and motherhood, but as I struggle to find my feet in a foreign land, I also traverse a rocky path to parenthood. It is a fortuneteller’s prophecy of a “dark-skinned child” which proves my hardest test; my emotional battle with infertility in a developing country makes me contemplate my need for birth children. India’s poverty (her street children, orphans, and child labourers) influences me to question my priorities, and I follow a path of personal growth that is lined with uncertainty and fear. When my husband and I decide to adopt a child we face another set of hurdles. Our touching journey leads us to Cambodia where the clairvoyant’s prediction comes true.

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This is my entry for the sports story contest. I can remember this day like it was yesterday!

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Hi, this is a complete re-write changing the narrative to third person following feedback from the last posting. I also tried to give a little bit more context. I wanted to bring in some dialogue too but somehow that just didn't happen!!! I tried to keep the simplicity of the language but tone down the "little girl" voice. This was following some feedback but also I went to the Library to do some research and try to be a little clearer in my mind as to the target age group. I always intended the stories to be illustrated so if I could just ask everyone to imagine a large & colorful picture book read aloud to children in the 3 - 6 year old age group... I love feedback and am really grateful for any thoughts or help you can give. HG.

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Hi, again, this story goes back so far I just do not know how accurate it is. The snake existed and I believe that my brother did push me down and step between me and the snake. I made the snake a red and black viper to be a bit more colourful though I have a feeling, from the picture in my mind, that it was a beige and black puff adder. ****have just ditched the red and black and turned it back into a puff adder - it felt better being more accurate!!!****** The ship rock, the fish eagle and the fish eagle tree are all true. I enjoyed writing about it - but I would be interested in any feedback of how it works as a story or any suggestions...

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Raising a family can be hazardous to your health but survival of the fittest is my philosophy and somehow we manage. Hang in there and do what you have to do. The poem expresses this theme without being sentimental or preachy, just tells it like it is. If you're looking for Hallmark, I don't do that.

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A kijiji is a village in Kiswahili. This was a strange story for me to write. I know I spent time with Rachi's wife. (Rachi is pronounced Ray Chee). I remember the village. Or was it big enough to be a village? Being puzzled because people talked to me and I could not understand and then suddenly understanding them. Not being able to weave the grasses and suddenly being able to weave them... for the rest - I'm not sure. It seems to me I could not have been as unsupervised as I recall? Surely!!! But I still have these snapshots in my mind. The memories are mainly visual with no audio. I do remember smells:- sunshine, dirt, coconut oil, spice and sweat - all combined. Somehow I could not seem to find the right place for a smell description. This is a new story, written since I was on this site. I tried to apply some of the very kind (and helpful!) feedback I have received for my last stories. It is actually a bit easier to write a new story than to correct some of the old ones! I am happy for any constructive feedback! PS - just spoke to someone from Tanzania and the proper word for the language is Kiswahili - I think the other way is a shortened version? hg

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Hi, This is the second children's story I have posted. All of the stories are based on memory - I think they are mostly true, but nearly fifty years is a heck of a long time! I have changed the PoV to third person following previous feedback. In fact I have done a complete re-write. I hope this works but am open to and welcome any feedback - hg

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Winter in the seventies. This was dragged out of an old closet and given a thorough scrubbing. I will be entering it in a local contest on winter tales so I'm limited to 400-500 words. I'm open to any comments...

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Did you even hear stream locomotives rumbling close by in the night, heading for unknown places down the line?

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The usual, any and all feedback. The emotional impact is important to me, as well as how you relate. Thanks:)

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processing childhood... does it ever end? any and all feedback welcome. free verse is hard to evaluate as the author

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I felt like sharing my short story that was published with my friends on TNBW. I am now free to market it to other venues and am considering sending it to some women's magazines. We see so much about the success of internet dating, but I wonder how many experiences are more like mine.

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When you were a kid, did you ever really, really want an ice cream cone on a HOT day?

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This is a memoir/personal essay. It is actually from several summers ago. I submitted it to a competition and it didn't get picked, so it's never been published. Maybe some of you can help me out with this, and I'll polish it up and re-submit. It would probably do better if I could get it down to 1,000 words, so I could use advice about which 292 words to cut. This is non-fiction, remember, and mostly nature oriented, so don't go expecting me to jazz it up with a sex-in-the-sand scene! I would only send it to an online or print magazine which publishes nature, travel, personal essay, etc.

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This is a true story.

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Selling a family home is always emotional, but there is so much more to treasure than the building that housed a family for 52 years.

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Tips on how to become a star author.

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An interesting afternoon with an ex-wife, a strawberry garden and a snake.

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Every once in a while i wish i were young again...A short story wrapped in poetic language.

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Recounting my first date. Does it bring a chuckle to you? Does it make you smile?

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A nightmarish memory, sad, but true. Does the story make you laugh even a little?

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Daniel has passed. Thanks for all of the encouragement provided. He left behind a house full of possessions which must be sorted through. This will not be easy. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.

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Yes, Daniel is still in the hospital. This is the fill in up to Wednesday, and the rest of the story is yet, unwritten. By me, or the Powers that be.

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Another tale of Daniel. This might be close to the end of the line... All feedback welcome. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

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This is an experiment in both the recalling of motivations we employ at different times in our lives to understand ourselves better, as well as formatting a different style of short story/prosetry for me. Let me know how it works for you.

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Very likely this needs a lot of work. I tend to quickly write what comes to me. To catch the emotion rather than the technical accuracy. This is more of a memoir piece. Any and all feedback is appreciated!

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An exciting life of mostly sitting. I'd like oral feedback, please.

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A tribute to my Dad.

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