Research in memoir

Today I called a business in Chicago to follow up on a request. During the call, I found myself talking with a retired music teacher I knew in 1979. I knew she worked at the business I called, but I hadn’t expected her to be the person I spoke to. Nevertheless I would jump at the chance to chat with her, if she had time. She was surprised when I said, “I know you from a long time ago. Can I tell you a story?” She spared me the time to let me recall the annual teen musical (“Oklahoma!”) I participated in at age 14, of which she was the musical director for many years. 

The organization was the St Jerome’s Teen Club. It mainly served kids who’d graduated from that grade school (which I hadn’t – I went to public school). Regardless that nobody in the club knew me, regardless that I wasn’t Catholic, and regardless of my self consciousness, I was absolutely determined to be in the musical. My friend’s mom helped me introduce myself to the adults who ran it. Being in the musical was the most inspiring experience I’d ever had up to then. 

I was thrilled today to thank this music teacher for helping to make that experience possible, and we plan to talk again. I told her about my memoir in progress. Besides the joy of sharing memories for its own sake, I hope to learn a bit of background information. This age-14 pinnacle appears in my book, and I love any chance to fact-check my memories. 

So how did it happen that when she said her name on the phone, I was ready to tell her I knew her? (In her words, “How did you make the connection that I was the person you knew?”) The answer is research. I was concerned she might think it was creepy, but I said, “There are a lot of important figures in my memoir that I know little about, so I Google almost everyone I mention. I want to see if there’s any important profile information I should know, such as if they became well known later; or if I can find more history on the topic at hand, such as the Teen Club. I need background to make my memories clearer.” I stammered and hesitated and didn’t come across that smoothly. Anyway, I’m thankful she didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with my having looked her up.

I’m pleased with my research. All of my writing and research are driven at least half by curiosity (the other part being the need to shout out bits of my life nobody knows about). Today I found that my research had paved the way to a primary source of local history that intersects my life. Had I not researched this music teacher and this business, I would only have thought “This person on the phone coincidentally has the same unusual first name as someone in my story; hmm.”

But in my research I found almost nothing on the music teacher herself. I was at the same time curious — completely unrelatedly — about the business in Chicago with whom I have a small one-off project. I wondered how long they’d been in business and how they’d weathered the pandemic. I found a local news story about an event they hosted, and one of the staffers was … this retired music teacher with the unique name. THAT was the coincidence. I knew I would be speaking to this business again, and I hoped one time she would answer the phone — and she did, and I was ready to make contact. What’s your view — is that creepy?

I research people by using Google and newspapers dot com, trying different search phrases and topics that might pertain to that person. Often I find obituaries. Those let me recall that person’s family members if I knew them, and occasionally events or places I remember. Even more often, I research events, to help establish the various timelines of my life. This has involved weather records of blizzards when I was in school, dates of sports events, Disco Demolition, the Pope’s visit to Chicago, celebrity deaths, rock music tour dates, popular music charts, or anything I can tie to my own memories beyond my journal.

I put up a nice clear profile pic on Facebook today, in case this music director looks me up. Still, I don’t think she will remember me by name or face. She loved the work and the kids, but I was one of many to her. But she and the experience were unique towering peaks to me.

You never know what you are doing that might be memorably improving someone’s life, no matter how routine it seems from your own perspective.