I am currently teaching a 5-week online class at Story Circle Network entitled, “Food and Memoir.” We meet on Zoom and the five women who are participating write an essay or story weekly that we discuss in class. I have had each of the women who are participating in several classes already so it feels like old-home week for me when their faces appear on Zoom. They have also bonded very well with each other over these past weeks since there are rotating critique partners to ensure that everyone gets a personal connection to one other person per week. The other thing that makes this group special is that they are willing to dig deep into their memories and write about events that have had a special impact on them, both happy and sad.

The connecting point in these stories is food. The story itself may have nothing to do with food but rather food serves as a backdrop for something else that’s happening. For example, if I were going to tell a story about my childhood piano teacher, I might mention the lime sherbet and Sprite punch she served in her big crystal punch bowl with matching clear glass cups on a table outside after the recital. The thought of that delectable punch still makes my mouth water. However, the story might really be about how all the parents sat politely inside during the recital until they could escape the stench of cat pee that permeated Miss Virginia’s house. The story is then really much more about the compassion of my hometown folks towards an elderly woman they saw as lonely and in need of those twenty-plus cats that were members of her household. The lime punch is a detail that just adds another dimension to Miss Virginia and how festive she made Recital Day.

Of course, food can also be center stage in these stories. One woman wrote about the occasional lobster boil she had in her family with seven other siblings. The details of a dozen live lobsters skittering across the kitchen floor amid the hoots and hollers of that family of ten brought a smile to my face. However, the real story was how her little brother scooped up all the melted butter in the bowl he was sharing with her and, as the older sister, she had to quietly “take that one on the chin.” Dinner was not a time for squabbles in her family so she ate her lobster with only the last remnants of butter. Despite that major transgression, she was quick to point out that she still loved her brother.

I feel very lucky to have the chance to spend time with these women and their stories. Each is excavating heartfelt moments from their pasts, which are not only poignant but also lend to greater understanding. There’s healing occurring as these stories are told. There’s a sense of deep connection as well.

Yes, I am feeling exceedingly lucky.

Happy eating, my friends, and be sure and keep an eye out for moments that will someday become meaningful memories.