Every Family Has a Tale to Tell!

Struggling to put in writing a story you want to preserve?

Mythos Creative Writing can help!


Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

My niece loves sitting around her grandmother’s kitchen table, listening to her mother and I reminisce.

“Uncle, tell another funny story about you and mom when you were kids.” she will invariably ask.

Whenever my family gathers together, we devote at least one evening to reliving old times. We’ve heard the same tales before, even my niece at this point. But, this storytelling, acknowledging our shared history, is a bonding experience.

Researching one’s ancestry has become easier with more historical records available online. But, knowing the names, important dates, and geographical locations associated with an ancestor is no substitute for knowing a person’s life story. 

When someone passes on, we naturally strive to keep their memory alive. We accomplish this by talking about our loved ones. Sharing funny anecdotes or remembering how they coped with more challenging times is cathartic. Sadly, there comes a time for all of us when no one remains alive to tell our story.

The rich and famous often take on the task of writing their memoir. Writing an autobiography is no easy feat for most. Celebrities have the luxury of hiring a professional ghostwriter to put their thoughts on paper.

My love of history, coupled with a desire to help others, has led me to ghostwrite. I strive to assist average, everyday individuals in their efforts to leave behind a written account of important memories.

Check out a sample of my work called “Flo’s Fright” I wrote for a woman wishing to bring a memory of her mother to life. 

Why I Hate Long Car Trips!!!

Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

This is a true story of an average family driving fifteen hours in one day to get home! Perhaps, many of you can relate?

  • The acronym, OPP, is used in this story. It stands for Ontario Provincial Police.

My father, the consummate road warrior, meant business. Radar detector standing sentinel against prowling OPPs, the new Peugeot rolled along at a fantastic speed. The sun was bright, but Ontario’s November weather strained out any cheerful radiance. Sitting behind my father, I depressingly stared out my window.

The highway was featureless. Signs gauging our progress, in kilometers, only confounded me. Two hours complete, the return home from visiting family in Detroit was still thirteen hours further. This ride was always grueling and tedious. Only one planned stop, mid-way to pee and inhale food, proffered any sort of relief. My father tackled this drive as he did home improvement, chores and workouts. Unpleasant tasks were dispatched as quickly possible, preferably, all at once.

My backseat companion was my sister, Rachel. She was four years my junior. She sat behind my father’s girlfriend, who was amiably trying to make the best of the trip. An agreed upon invisible barricade separated me from my sister. Any perceived violation of the treaty was promptly called out. 

“Move over! You’re on my side.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Your pillow is touching me!” 

“It’s not.”

My father never tolerated bickering.

“Quit it! Both of you. It’s a long ride. You’ll just have to make the best of it, so zip it!”


If you liked this..visit my History and Biography Page to read other true stories!