Chrysteen Braun

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You know how when people hear your life stories, they sometimes say, “You should write a book.” I suppose that means over the years, some of my stories must have been interesting to others, and lately, I’ve been thinking about writing that book. While I can’t always remember what I had for dinner last night, I can remember things that happened to me over my lifetime...and I’ve also been known to embellish a little here and there, so I’d be able to come up with stories to fill in any gaps.

It’s 1980 and I’ve just had my eightieth birthday, thank God, for I’m getting close. As much as I swore I hated the idea of a party, my family and friends had one for me anyway...and I ended up having the best time ever. People I hadn’t seen for years surprised me by coming, and of course, talking with them brought back a lot of old memories. Some reminded me of unpleasantness, but I recalled most with fondness. My husband’s daughter, Sissy, had gone through my drawers of old photos, much to my dismay, for some of them could have been considered damning. She made up some poster boards showing my life at various ages. She meant well, but I couldn’t help but feel that I was a spectator at my own funeral. Plus, I absolutely hated seeing photos of myself in private, much less on public display.

“Remember the old Helm’s Bakery truck?” my husband asked us all. “The moment we saw it stop down the street, we’d rush to our mother to ask for enough money to buy a doughnut or cookie,” someone said. We’d wait, almost jumping in anticipation, until that long wooden drawer rolled out, revealing all the goodies we had to choose from. I said, “I can picture it all clearly ...