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The Heritage of Our Stories, SheLoves

Last Friday I posted at SheLoves and didn’t get the chance to share it with you. If you haven’t already ready the piece, here you go: The Heritage of Our Stories, on why generational stories matter and what Joan Didion might have meant when she said:

We tell stories in order to live.

In an age when stories and lives can be reduced to Facebook updates, 140-character sound bytes, and even 800-word blog posts, I believe it is even more important to share the in-depth stories of my heritage with my children. To remind them, and me, of those who went before us and have been part of shaping us, though they had no social media accounts to ‘validate’ their existence.


These people (even if they can’t smile for a photograph) bear the stories that connect these people:


If you know about Lake Sixteen or if you have stories your family tells over and over, louder and louder, less and less *ahem* accurately each time, you will find your own experience in this piece.

Go here to read The Heritage of Our Stories.

By |September 9th, 2013|Categories: Uncategorized|Tags: , , |0 Comments

Home Is in the Spaces, SheLoves

Today I am over at SheLoves writing about home and how my third culture kids experience home, finding it in the spaces between cultures.


Here’s an excerpt…

My twins have lived in Minnesota for two years, Somaliland for almost a year, Kenya and France for a few months each, Djibouti for eight years, Minnesota again for one year, and Kenya again for almost a year. That makes roughly twelve years and five countries.

I asked my daughter, Where was home? This is the dreaded, complicated, richly beautiful question Third Culture Kids wrestle with because, for a TCK, the answer might take five minutes. Or it might dredge up buried memories of lost places and people. Or they might draw a blank, not know how to answer.

Is home for my TCK where she was born or where she was potty trained or the place from which she fled with her family and a single suitcase? Is home where she found peace and safety for a few months, where she cared for a baby hamster, or where she had best friends and a bedroom and memories of skinned knees and Friday waffle-and-Star Wars traditions? Or was it where she licked snow for the first time and ate grandma’s cookies and spoke the same language at school as she spoke at home? Or is it where she lives now, at boarding school? Or where her parents and sister live, counting down the days until the school break?

Read more here…

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