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Missing a loved one this holiday season?
Dawn Roode offers up four suggestions for further reading (and listening) for anyone who, like her, is missing a friend or family member during the holidays.
As families celebrate Hanukkah and Christmas in the coming days, we can get caught up in the hustle and bustle, in expectations of mirth and traditions honored… For many of us, though, grief has a way of underpinning everything during this season, even amidst the joy and carols.
Those who have followed my journey for a while or who know me personally understand that loss is a theme I revisit often. I do so because the loss of three loved ones—my mother, in particular—has changed me as a person. The absence of my mom permeates my life. And while there is sadness, and there is a sense of longing—especially during the holidays—I have also gained much; I have become a new me in the wake of her loss. And I feel compelled to help others remember their own lost loved ones, to use story and memory as ways to honor those they have lost, to help them heal—even if it’s a (very) little bit at a time…
But sometimes there is nothing that will make those stabbing moments of grief go away. And maybe we’re meant to feel them. I find some consolation in connecting with others who may feel similarly; of reading others’ experiences with loss and holiday grief. And so I thought this week I would share with you a few things that have resonated with me, and a few I have written myself; I hope one or more of these will help you feel seen anew, will connect you with positive memories of the loved one you are grieving (whether they died yesterday or three decades ago), and will help you find moments of solace and light when grief seems like a shadow darkening all else.
4 ideas for finding solace on your holiday grief journey
personal reflections
I wrote this piece in 2017. I was missing my mom fiercely as Mother’s Day approached. Something compelled me to share some especially personal words on Facebook (and I am not one who is typically vulnerable—or even active, really—on Facebook). That act connected me in a most beautiful and unexpected way with a community of others who felt similar grief—and the bonus these days is that it comes up in my feed periodically as a memory. Rereading my words from that day makes me feel closer to my mom, and gives me hope when I need it. May it do the same for you:
“Wish You Were Here, Mom”
“Because a number of people expressed gratitude for my words—for recognizing my prolonged grief as their own, for glimpsing something universal in my very individual experience—I decided to share the post in this broader setting…”
being there for others who are grieving
What if someone else in your circle is experiencing grief? In a world where rituals around dying are disappearing, where talking to someone about loss feels almost taboo, I find it can be helpful to have some concrete ideas on how to be there for another who is grieving. Take a look at this story for those ideas—and know that some of them may help you, too:
A Balm for Holiday Grief
A few ideas for sharing memories of someone who has died…
LISTENING IN, living on
As an avid podcast listener, I was thrilled to stumble upon the first episode of Anderson Cooper’s podcast “All There Is” back in September 2022. He started recording while going through his late mother’s journals and keepsakes, as well as things left behind by his father and brother, narrating his experiences—and emotions—as he went. The result is a vulnerable, human, necessary meditation on grief (including a series of compelling interviews) that had me feeling seen—and wanting to hug Cooper and others walking through grief. I highly recommend giving it a listen (as for me, I will be revisiting episode two, where Stephen Colbert joins Cooper for a profound conversation).
As of December 2025, Cooper continues to explore the theme of grief in this podcast, and his generosity of spirit with his community of listeners—he says he has listened to thousands of audio messages and read tens of thousands of DMs, and that he is moved by every single one—is powerfully moving. “Listening to your messages, hearing your voices, learning the names of your lost loved ones,” he says, “has been incredibly profound. It’s made me feel less alone in my grief, and I hope these messages you’re about to hear help you feel less alone, as well.” I recommend this episode where he reads from some of those messages.
“All There Is”
I have recommended this podcast to many people this year. Anderson Cooper shares “a series of emotional and moving conversations about the people we lose, the things they leave behind, and how to live on—with loss, with laughter, and with love.”
FINDING COMMUNITY
In the wake of my mother’s death in 2009, I desperately sought community and a safe space for sharing my grief. It wasn’t easy. I eventually found a grief support group in my neighborhood in Park Slope, Brooklyn; it met at the nearby hospital and was a balm to my soul and frazzled nerves—that is, for the two sessions we met. Because it was run by a volunteer and there was no funding or outside support, it disbanded as quickly as I had discovered it. But many of us (a wildly diverse group—all ages, religions, and colors with unique experiences of recent death) had exchanged numbers. So I proposed we meet without a moderator at a local public place…and every single person showed up. That community was necessary for us then. If I hadn’t moved to another state, I would probably still be organizing our make-shift grief support get-togethers.
This year I discovered grief specialist Barri Leiner Grant via Instagram and extend an invitation to you to follow her, too, especially if you, like I was in 2009, are craving community around your loss. She offers memory circles, grief resources, a write-to-heal support group, and beautiful doses of inspiration through her work.
The Memory Circle
Barri Leiner Grant says that grief tending—“time dedicated to your release and relief”—is the foundational grounding of her philosophy. See if the tools she provides can help you maintain a meaningful connection with your lost loved one.
This blog post, originally written in December 2022, has been updated with new content on December 8, 2025.
The case for classic design
A book that captures your legacy should be designed with longevity in mind, so it remains engaging and accessible for generations. It should be beautiful, too.
Black leather and a debossed title elevate this book cover from boring to elegant, signaling the timeless page design inside.
I have a pair of Adidas Spezial sneakers that I purchased in the 1980s and still wear today. Adidas debuted the style in 1979, and it’s sold in an array of colorways as part of the Originals line on their website in 2025.
I have an Armani tailored black blazer that I bought in the late 1990s that I still wear today. Its materials and craftsmanship were worth the hundreds of dollars I invested in the piece when I worked at Vogue, and no one would guess it wasn’t brand new now.
My fashion sense has always tended towards fine classics (often embellished with bolder accessories that I can swap out as the times change). “Classic,” in the way I view it, is a synonym for “timeless.”
And “classic, timeless style” is an aesthetic I also apply to the heirloom books I create for my clients.
You won’t find trendy design approaches or typeface choices that broadcast a specific decade (unless that’s befitting the stories within, of course!) at Modern Heirloom Books. Instead, we’ll work together to find a design that feels right to the client and their stories, while also respecting tradition and legibility—so your book feels fresh and of its time, no matter when your descendants are reading it.
Why I opt for classic book design
Have you ever picked up a book and known it was old despite its pristine condition? Your grandparents’ wedding album, perhaps (pillowy white leather with gold italic imprinting, say)? Or a softcover book that’s been sitting on your shelf for decades (Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret comes to mind for me, with its instantly recognizable cover treatments across different editions)?
Design, like fashion, can date itself. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing—retro aesthetics have their place; but for life story books, I aim for something more enduring. A book that captures your legacy should not feel like a product of a fleeting trend. It should be designed with longevity in mind, so it remains engaging and accessible for future generations.
“Designers choose typefaces by considering the history of type, the combinations of form, the balance between readability and surprise, the content and themes at hand, and the designer’s own desires and interests,” Ellen Lupton explains in Thinking with Type.
The two variables sandwiched in the middle of that sentence are of the utmost importance to me when designing an heirloom book:
Finding “the balance between readability and surprise.”
Serving “the content and themes at hand.”
Ample white space gives a life story book breathing room.
The Balance Between Readability and Surprise
Readability should always take precedence in book design, particularly for long-form personal narratives. A typeface that prioritizes elegance over clarity—one with too much flair, too little contrast, or an overly condensed structure—becomes a distraction rather than an enhancement.
This is why many classic books use time-honored typefaces such as Garamond, Baskerville, or Times New Roman. These fonts have endured for centuries because they provide that perfect harmony: sophisticated yet unintrusive, distinctive yet universally readable.
Surprise, however, is where personality comes in. This might be through subtle flourishes—a well-placed drop cap, a unique yet restrained display font for chapter titles, a slightly unexpected but still harmonious color palette. These are touches that make a book feel special without overpowering the narrative itself.
Serving the Content and Themes at Hand
A book about a family’s multigenerational journey deserves a design that reflects continuity. A memoir detailing a life of adventure may benefit from visual storytelling elements like maps or archival-style captions. The key is ensuring that every design choice serves the story rather than pulling attention away from it.
Elements such as generous margins, high-quality paper, and a well-proportioned layout all contribute to a book’s readability and aesthetic longevity. White space, for example, isn’t just about making a page look elegant—it allows the reader’s eyes to rest, giving weight to the words and photographs that matter most.
This book of correspondence between a father and his daughter during her time at Georgetown University used Adobe Caslon, the same font in the Georgetown logo, for display type; Caslon was originally designed in 1722, and its modern iterations are still revered for its readability and elegance.
What makes a timeless book design?
There are a few fundamental principles that contribute to classic, enduring book design:
Typography with integrity: Typefaces that have stood the test of time, with an emphasis on readability and subtle beauty.
Thoughtful layouts: Balanced margins, considered line spacing, and harmonious text hierarchy to create an effortless reading experience.
Understated elegance: A design that enhances the story without distracting from it, avoiding overly trendy or gimmicky elements.
Quality materials: A book’s physical form is part of its longevity—fine archival paper, durable binding, and careful printing methods ensure that it lasts as an heirloom.
When you commission a personal history book, you are investing in something that will outlive you—a physical manifestation of your legacy. The stories within are timeless, and the design should reflect that. A well-designed book will not only be read; it will become a treasured heirloom, passed down and revisited for generations.
“Who listens to you?”
We are a world of talkers, but what we need is to listen, and to be listened to. Find inspiration from author Kate Murphy and personal historian Dawn Roode.
“When I interview people—whether it’s a person on the street, CEO, or celebrity—I often get the sense that they are unaccustomed to having someone listen to them. When I respond with genuine interest to what they are saying and encourage them to tell me more, they seem surprised; as if it’s a novel experience. They noticeably relax and become more thoughtful and thorough in their responses, assured I’m not going to rush them, interrupt, or glance at my phone. I suspect that is why so many end up sharing such tender things—unsolicited by me and wholly unrelated to the story I am writing. They find in me someone who will finally, at last, listen to them.”
This paragraph is from the introduction to You’re Not Listening: What You’re Missing and Why It Matters by Kate Murphy—I had jotted it down as a reminder to write about this phenomenon someday. The notation about the author and the book title was on the reverse side of the piece of paper I wrote the quote on. So when I unearthed the scrap among my things recently, I thought for a moment I had written these words; the sentiment and the experiences reflected within are as if my own (though, admittedly, it’s been a while since I interviewed a celebrity!).
It’s common—too common, really—for people to feel almost shocked when I maintain eye contact and do not interrupt their story sharing. More than one interview subject has teared up and needed to pause once they get going during our interview sessions—once it dawns on them that I am not going to interrupt them, and that I am listening intently.
Kate Murphy interviewed many people for her book, and among the questions she asked them, she writes, was, “Who listens to you?” The answers, as you can imagine, were not overwhelmingly positive: Many, many of us feel like we are not being listened to, and even, says Murphy, that we are not good listeners ourselves.
If you’re interested in exploring this—how we got here, how we can change course—I recommend picking up a copy of You’re Not Listening.
For a sampling of the author’s thinking and her voice, I recommend listening in to this Fully Booked podcast interview with Kate Murphy:
And for a few of my (very quick!) thoughts on the topic, read on.
Listening is an active endeavor.
Listening is not the same as hearing. Listening is a conscious act—being open to receiving the words and messages of another. “Listening is an act of community,” author Ursula K. LeGuin wrote. So next time you ask someone a question, pay attention to their answer; when it seems like they are done speaking, take a beat—awaiting more from them, perhaps, and listening to your shared silence. There is much there to hear.
Listening makes you a more empathetic person.
Empathy is the ability to understand and share the feelings of others. It can be developed through practice, and it's not a fixed trait. “When you talk, you are only repeating what you already know. But if you listen, you may learn something new.” This is an oft-quoted sentiment from the 14th Dalai Lama, and it resonates for a reason. By listening to (or reading) another’s stories, we are given the opportunity to see ourselves in their experiences—and in so doing, help us understand their perspective.
Everyone is interesting if you listen to them.
It’s partly a matter of asking the right questions, partly of giving someone space to share, but it’s mostly a matter, in my opinion, of listening—if you listen with an open heart and an abundance of curiosity, every person will show themselves to be interesting.
I hope you have someone in your life who listens to you—really listens to you. “Love is listening,” artist Titus Kaphar has said (and, oh, how I agree!)…and we are all worthy of love.
I leave you with this quote, written in my commonplace book years ago, from one of my most beloved writers:
“In the silence of listening, you can know yourself in everyone, the unseen singing softly to itself and to you.”
—Rachel Naomi Remen
“People still buy handmade shoes.”
As AI gets better and more accessible, will there still be a need for in-person story sharing services offered by personal biographers and historians? Yes!
Will there ever come a day when we are so reliant on artificial intelligence that our appreciation for and need for handmade goods and in-person services are gone?
In my professional circles, there is much talk about AI and the impact it will have on our work lives. Some of the talk is excited—how AI can help us streamline processes, for example. Some of the talk is panicked—how we’re being led down a path of no return, when artificial intelligence becomes smarter than people and AI takes over (conspiracy theory?).
Of course, the reality is somewhere in the middle. And with the technology evolving so quickly, how should I, as a professional personal historian, incorporate it into my work for YOU?
This is a question I think about often—and undoubtedly, my answer to this will shift as the technology does.
Despite typically being a tech early adopter, I have currently dipped my toes into the AI waters with caution: I have readily integrated some things such as AI transcription into my workflow (a godsend!!) but have remained more of an educated lurker. I have concerns—privacy chief among them—yet at the same time know that there is a revolution at hand. So, I test the evolving AI interfaces, listen to friends and colleagues who have embraced AI more readily, and learn from them and from experts I trust.
Listening to a recent Tim Ferriss podcast in which he speaks briefly about how we may adopt AI in the long run, I took note of one seemingly offhand remark he made: “I mean, people still buy handmade shoes, right?”
I was driving while listening to this podcast, and I kept turning this phrase over in my mind even after I had reached my destination; it struck a chord. “People still buy handmade shoes.” Sure, the majority of shoes sold around the world are likely made in factories—but there is a market for bespoke shoes, even now.
This led me to think about all the things that make my service as a personal historian unique, and in particular, different from any app- or AI-driven storytelling services out there (they abound, and are proliferating more and more). Because I DO believe that there will always be a place for one-on-one personal history services…even if the day comes when every single individual records aspects of their life story using AI.
What makes in-person storytelling special?
It’s not just about the end-product—it’s about the journey.
All of my experience to date with AI models has shown me one thing: They can be used effectively as tools with me guiding—very carefully—our trajectory. But compelling conversation (a back-and-forth with another being)…well, not so much.
I do believe that story sharing apps and online memory-keeping services are strong tools that make story sharing accessible to the masses—but they are by no means my favorite option. I would much prefer a family member interview their loved ones and hit “record” on their phone than for an email prompt to be sent weekly from a random cache of questions, to be answered in isolation. Because having someone to receive your story, having a person to connect with and reflect pieces of your narrative back to you, is so valuable.
As a personal historian, I am a generous listener who gives my undivided attention to my interview subjects. How rare is it these days to have someone’s full attention? To be listened to and heard? How rare an opportunity is it to give ourselves time to reflect so intentionally?! It’s all of these things combined that have inspired many of my clients to tell me, each in their own words, how the story sharing itself was even more valuable to them than the book that resulted. Would they have felt this way if I weren’t there to receive their stories? I know they would not have.
It’s about community.
I always, always tell my clients that my greatest hope is that the book they hold in their hands at the end of our time together—the book that holds their stories—will become a vehicle for even MORE story sharing with their friends and loved ones. I hope their readers will ask questions, will learn and feel and grow even more curious about the book’s author. I hope that the authors will pull their book out with their grandchildren, and allow the photos within to spark more memories that they share in person. I hope the next generation will pull the book out with THEIR children and recount stories they heard, and add in their own experiences, too. A book that originates as part of an in-person story sharing experience has this sense of community written in its DNA.
It’s about finding meaning through follow-ups.
Follow-up questions are at the heart of any good personal history interview. We may start with a small script of questions, but I generally prefer to identify a theme for the interview and proceed from there. One story leads to another. Details that are not initially shared by the interview subject may be drawn out by the interviewer. How did you feel? How did it smell? WHY do you think you did that? One day AI will inevitably get better at the art of the follow-up question, but for now I believe in my heart that the connection between an interviewer and their subject yields one-of-a-kind stories and meaning-making—and that connection leads to intuitive, sensitive follow-ups; the rapport that develops leads to a sense of trust that allows a subject to go deep; and the back-and-forth nature of in-person conversation leads to revelations and humor and surprises that can only happen with a fellow human.
It’s about making art.
“That sense of interplay, or the ability to react in the moment, is something that artificial intelligence can’t reproduce,” musician Yosvany Terry says in this piece from The Harvard Gazette that asks the question, “If it wasn’t created by a human artist, is it still art?”
I have a feeling this philosophical conundrum will persist forever, even as AI advances to create art that reliably evokes emotions and is deemed ‘original.’ But I tend to agree with this line of thought: “AI currently requires a level of supervision and feedback that means a human touch and eye still very much have their place in the art world.”
As a human writer and editor, I am creating an original piece of art from my clients’ stories. My decisions—about tone, about structure, about design aesthetic, about what to highlight and what to leave out—are informed by years of experience, and by my human interactions with those clients. There is a dialogue infused with values spoken and inferred; there is a sensitivity to family relationships and other intangibles that may impact how a story is received; and there is a real collaboration towards turning stories into art.
Like those who still buy handmade shoes, there will always be people who prefer in-person story sharing to AI-led preservation—and as a personal historian, I am proud and honored to be the cobbler of your memories.
Conversation starters
I wonder if I read this post in just a few years time whether my thoughts will have changed much?
I wonder what you think about the value of human interplay in story preservation?
I wonder what concrete ways you have found to incorporate AI use into your own work or family history preservation?
I wonder what ways you so far resist using AI, and why?
I wonder if you are interested in collaborating on a personal history project? Let’s talk.
Hello, it’s me—the person behind the brand
Modern Heirloom Books is a business, of course, but it’s a business defined by one person’s mission, expertise, and passion—and I’m pleased to meet you!
While I much prefer candid shots (and, truth be told, being the one TAKING the pictures!), I will occasionally pose for a behind-the-scenes shot like this…so you remember that there is indeed a human being behind my brand.
When I first launched Modern Heirloom Books more than a decade ago, I was reluctant to put my photo anywhere in my branding. I wanted to seem like a “real” company. Despite decades working at a high level in magazine journalism, in this then-new entrepreneurial venture I faced my share of imposter syndrome—and truth be told, maybe I was trying to seem “bigger” than I was.
Who would want to hire a single individual to create their family history book?, my thinking went. They’ll expect a whole team. What if they think I look too young? What if I look too old? What if, by seeing my white face, they jump to the conclusion that I might not be the right person to capture their (fill-in-the-blank) stories?
I was a one-person operation then (still am, though now I rely on a bevy of freelancers when appropriate to allow me to serve more people), but you wouldn’t have known this from looking at my website.
Then, somewhere along the line (maybe as my confidence increased and I had more business under my belt), my thinking shifted.
The aha moment: If someone is going to share their stories via interviews, they darn well want to know who they’ll be sitting across from, right?
This industry that I’m in of capturing people’s stories, preserving their memories and their family history, creating printed legacies…well, it’s come to be known as “personal history.” And “personal” it is.
It makes sense that my business should have a personal feel, as well.
So a few years in I added my name to the company—now it’s Modern Heirloom Books by Dawn Roode. Then I began adding my pictures here and there; despite my discomfort with being photographed, I can now be seen in my element (usually at a computer or wielding an audio recorder) on my website and across my social media.
And the best part? People who reach out to me are reaching out to ME. So many clients call because they read a post about my own journey with grief that resonated with them, or they understand from following me that I will be a compassionate listener. Maybe they’ve delved deep into my experience and like the fact that my approach to writing and editing life stories is contemporary, informed by that lifestyle magazine experience I mentioned earlier. Or maybe they don’t notice these personal details at all.
Whatever the case, they know there’s a person behind the business. And that matters to me. And from what my clients have told me, it matters a great deal to them, too.
Would you like to see if we might be a good fit to work together? Whatever type of life story preservation project you have in mind, remember that all my projects are fully custom—so let’s chat, and see how we can best capture your stories for the next generation. I look forward to meeting YOU 💕
All five-star reviews for Modern Heirloom Books!
What better way to scope out if a personal historian is a good fit for you than to hear about others’ experiences, in their own words? I am humbled and proud.
The clients with whom I work are incredibly private, and I respect their privacy to the utmost. It’s one of the reasons that so many of them aren’t keen on sharing a public review online. Without exception they are willing to send me their testimonials via email, and I have posted many of them on my site and on social media over the years.
But recently I’ve had a flurry of folks who were in fact willing to share their reviews online. I am always humbled by their kind words, their heartfelt appreciation, and their unmitigated joy at seeing their stories beautifully bound in heirloom books, at last. And I am beyond proud of the work I do to help my clients preserve their legacies in this way.
So here, let’s celebrate some of those “jobs well done”—and hopefully give you a taste of what working together could be like.
Some 5-Star reviews on Google
“Working with Dawn to create our family heirloom book was an extraordinary experience from start to finish. Her approach is meticulous and thoughtful. Dawn's dedication to perfection was evident as she conducted thorough research and carefully curated our family history materials and photos. What truly stood out was Dawn's compassionate and collaborative nature. Thanks to Dawn's expertise and unwavering support, the final result is a cherished masterpiece that beautifully preserves our family's legacy. We are immensely grateful for Dawn's outstanding work and wholeheartedly recommend her to anyone seeking to embark on a similar journey.” —Shannon P.
“Don’t hesitate....work with Dawn to write your stories. I had already begun writing my life stories and had gathered photos and then I was stuck. I contacted Dawn and she helped me put it altogether and moved me forward. My family and I love the results!” —Jane M.
“Preserving my father’s legacy and the wonderful memories of family events was something I wanted to do after my dad’s passing, but knew I needed professional help. I envisioned writings from my siblings eulogizing my father and memorializing my parents’ lives, their struggles, celebrations and accomplishments. A book filled with pictures and stories that would relate to the grandkids and great grandkids as they grew up. Fortunately, I got this and more! A beautiful bookl honoring my 95-year-old father’s life. Dawn Roode of Modern Heirloom Books was the angel that worked with me and members of my family who gathered the stories and pictures and gave the bookl the personal tone that captured my father’s essence. Every page is laid out purposely. Not just a collection of writings and pictures but a story about a successful man. An immigrant who achieved the American dream. Thank you, Dawn!” —Ligia F.
“I found Dawn and Modern Heirloom Books through a Google search after a sudden loss of my mentor and supervisor that I loved and admired greatly. I was looking for a tangible way to let my mentor’s family know just how much she meant to her work family and I wanted to present the book to her family at the celebration of life event that was scheduled a few weeks after she passed. I reached out to Dawn with my aggressive timeline and Dawn responded quickly with the details of how we could bring the ideas to life. She compiled tributes from 56 of my colleagues to create a beautifully curated, high quality book that was completed on time. The finished product was so beautiful and well done, I still cry every time I read the PDF. Dawn is a gift and I couldn’t recommend her business highly enough.” —Min P.
“Dawn Roode is an absolute gem. My sister and I wholeheartedly recommend her and her work…. Dawn brought tremendous creativity to her work…. Throughout the process, Dawn was a joy to work with. She listened carefully. She was diligent in working up drafts and gathering feedback. She was unfailingly patient. She brought her own ideas and didn’t hesitate to make suggestions. She even went above and beyond to deal with administrative hassles with printers due to our last-minute requirement changes. She delivered on time and within budget. In every interaction, Dawn conveyed that she cared as much about the book as we did. If you are looking for someone to create that special story or tribute to someone you care deeply about, look no further.” —Jenny P.
“Dawn helped me to create a tribute book for my mom. The process was emotional and painful but she made it a lot easier - from managing the layout of the book and the color palette to sourcing the printer and even finding a way to rush the production of the books. Modern Heirloom is not the cheapest option but what it created is truly beautiful. The book is something I'll keep forever and I could see how much it resonated with my extended family.” —Rich G.
“Dawn at Modern Heirloom Books is a joy to work with. She created a book of our mother’s nativity collection. We didn’t even really know what we wanted in the beginning and she produced an amazing result. It is a pleasure working through the creative process with her. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” —Amy H.
“Dawn was always ready to make the changes that were inevitable when putting a book together, with good cheer. She is quite well organized and intuitively understood order, placement, emphasis vs less. I was extremely happy with Dawn’s finished product and wholeheartedly recommend her.” —Gahl B.
“Dawn’s creativity, warmth, and professionalism helped turn an old stack of yellowed letters from my recently deceased father into the most beautiful book of memories. Her patience with me through this process was so appreciated, as was her genuine care for the product she produced. I highly recommend working with Dawn.” —Kristen C.
Plus a couple via email…
What follows are just a couple of examples of clients who chose not to leave their review on a public platform such as Google or Facebook—something I wholeheartedly respect. I am grateful they were comfortable with me sharing these in other ways, as I do feel it’s the words of those I have worked with who can best convey what that experience is like 💗
This one is from my client Patty, who created family history heirloom books for her grown children as well as her young grandchildren, a way to preserve their family’s legacy for generations.
This one was forwarded to me by my client Jane, who had “loaned” her book to a good friend. I worked with Jane as her memoir coach, then edited and designed the resulting heirloom book.
In conversation about “the gift of family stories”
Podcast host Melissa Ceria and personal historian Dawn Roode discuss the importance of family history preservation and finding solace in stories after loss.
Recently I was a featured guest on the podcast The Loss Encounters, hosted by Melissa Ceria.
Melissa is a French-American journalist and the founder of Studio Ceria, which has created and produced high-profile speaker series for Fortune 500 companies and cultural institutions such as the French Institute Alliance Française (FIAF) and NeueHouse in New York. She began her career as a writer and editor at major fashion magazines, including Harper’s Bazaar, where she and I worked together.
Melissa, as creator of The Loss Encounters, and I, as founder of Modern Heirloom Books, share a love and respect for the power of stories; we found our way to family stories, in particular, via somewhat parallel paths. When my mother died, I was bereft at the loss of our shared collective memory, and saddened to discover that the journals she had left behind were only sparsely written in. Melissa, on the other hand, was bequeathed a precious gift just ten days before her father, Lorenzo Weisman, passed—A Family Story, a book he wrote about their family’s history. It is an heirloom that continues to bring her solace all these years later. “It’s filled with stories, photos, poems, and letters that have brought us comfort and connection,” she says.
Our brief conversation, titled “The Gift of Family Stories,” was released as a bonus episode of The Loss Encounters in honor of Father’s Day earlier this month. It is, Melissa says, “dedicated to my dad, and invites all of us to cherish and preserve our own family stories.”
I share it with you here today in hopes that you, too, will be inspired to cherish and preserve your own family stories. Enjoy!
Transcript
(Edited slightly for clarity)
Melissa Ceria: On a warm September evening in 2012, my dad, Lorenzo Weisman, sat down at his dining room table and dedicated the book he'd written about our family to each of his grandchildren. He died ten days later on September 22nd, 2012. His book, titled A Family Story, is a beautiful account of my family's origins, our ancestors, the long life that my parents built together, and the families that joined ours through marriage. It's filled with stories and photos, poems, and letters. There's a lot of love in it. And I'm glad that my dad didn't varnish things. He just told our family's story by piecing together the mosaic of our lives. I think that writing it also allowed him to review his own remarkable journey, and to feel at peace by the time he died. No one could have guessed that A Family Story would also become our companion in grief. We leaf through it when we miss dad, when we need to hear his voice, or if we want to share family stories with our kids. It's been a huge gift for the grandchildren that never got to meet him. Through this, they know dad and we can all talk about him. A decade after his death, I've been thinking about the importance of sharing our stories with those we love. So I called up my friend Dawn Roode. Dawn is the founder of Modern Heirloom Books. As a personal historian, she helps people write their stories and preserves them in beautifully bound books that generations will cherish. Our conversation felt like the call to action. Collecting our memories is a gift for those we leave behind. Hi, Dawn. It's lovely to have you here.
Dawn Roode: Thrilled to be here. Thank you, Melissa.
Melissa Ceria: Tell me how you got started with this work.
Dawn Roode: I was a new mom, and my son had actually been born three months before my mother passed away. It was a very unexpected death. And so, you know, I was dealing with the supreme joys of motherhood and the lowest depths of grief at the same time. And it was a really challenging time for me. I ended up making a book in honor of my mom. Didn't start out that way. It started out me writing a lot of remembrances about her. I had this feverish sense that I was going to lose my memories of her, and it was so important for me to get them down. And as a writer and an editor, someone who came from that background, that was the natural way for me to do so, was to just write in a journal. But eventually, as I went through her photos, I wanted to make something that was more substantive, more permanent. I knew that my son would never know my mom, and that kind of broke my heart, and that was the inspiration for me to make the actual book. It was such a rewarding experience for me, and I thought I might be able to help other people do the same thing.
[00:03:21]
Melissa Ceria: When people start working with you, are they clear about what they want to communicate?
[00:03:25]
Dawn Roode: It runs the gamut. It's very interesting when someone comes to me and says, "I want to do my story," very often they have a good idea of what they want to share. Almost always, it ends up going in a new direction once the interviews start, because they surprise themselves with what a rich life they've led. "Oh, and I forgot about this." And so the mere act of telling the stories, of me being a curious and engaged listener and asking pointed questions, helps them go in new directions and discover meaning that they hadn't expected in their lives. Other times people come to me where it's the younger generation that wants to preserve their parents’ or their grandparents’ stories, and that's a very different dynamic, where the people come and say, "I don't have a story to tell." It wasn't their idea. They're like, "I have nothing to say. My life is pretty boring, pretty standard." So there's a whole little conversational thing that happens to get them to the right place. And those are even more wonderfully surprising, because at the end they say things like, "wow," I literally had a client say, "I lived a really amazing life so far, and I had no idea." And so that power of reflection, I think is just really transformative. And I look at myself as a guide for them. So I help them find the story and put them on the path to kind of make some narrative sense of it.
[00:04:43]
Melissa Ceria: What are the qualities that support the work that you do?
[00:04:46]
Dawn Roode: So certainly curiosity is one, but I think being a good listener is at the heart of everything that I do. I feel like I hold a sacred space for people. I try to be very generous of spirit with people. I think empathy is another. People are very hard on themselves and I want them to know any of their feelings are valid. The choices they've made are worth looking at with forgiveness, with gratitude.
[00:05:12]
Melissa Ceria: Do you think when we review our own lives, we can be very critical of ourselves? Or do you think we give ourselves more slack?
[00:05:20]
Dawn Roode: You know, it's really interesting. I find when people are writing about themselves, we can be much harder on ourselves. The dynamic when I'm interviewing someone, I can sense when that criticism is coming in, or the reluctance to kind of go in a certain direction because there may be shame or critical thought about a previous decision. What I try to do is empower them that "you came out the other side, and there's a lesson in there for your descendants or for yourself." So the power of two, of me being a listener, I think, helps people find that generosity of spirit for themselves.
[00:05:55]
Melissa Ceria: If somebody isn't prepared to write their own story, or they can't necessarily hire somebody to help them do that, what are some of the ways that we can gather these stories?
[00:06:04]
Dawn Roode: I say to people all the time, it doesn't have to be long. I think that's the biggest thing, is do something rather than nothing, and you can always change it. Four years later you can say, "Oh, you know that thing I have in the drawer? That is something I'm going to go rewrite it." But the fact that you're even thinking about it, I think is always a good start. And then it's just takes some kind of action to do it. And if you can't write, dictate—we have smartphones, so just dictate right into there. There's software that will automatically transcribe it now. And you can leave your voice. Just leave an audio recording if that's easier for you. It doesn't have to be monumental, I think is the message.
[00:06:40]
Melissa Ceria: Do you find that people that you work with, if they are nearing the end of their lives, have a greater sense of peace after they've communicated something to their loved ones?
[00:06:52]
Dawn Roode: I do. It's something palpable that I can feel as our interviews proceed, and as we're getting closer to having something to completion. There's a shift in the way that they are talking about their life. There's a shift and a certain calmness that comes with it. But beyond me sensing it, people have told me that. One client in particular comes to mind who just, he thanked me repeatedly for giving him the space to do this, but I wanted to thank him. I had such gratitude to him for being open about it, and what he was so grateful for was that "I have perspective. That I looked back on my life and realized it was wonderful." What more could you ask for? And what a wonderful thing to tell those that you're leaving behind. There's a great peace that comes from it, and also an empowerment to let go at a certain point when the time comes.
[00:07:46]
Melissa Ceria: Do you think it's in our nature to want to leave messages behind?
[00:07:49]
Dawn Roode: I do, and what I've tried to do through my work and and after losing my mom in particular, is to encourage people to be intentional about what we leave behind so that people aren't scrounging through the emails and their texts in search of something, but that we leave something specific. I think that that holds even greater meaning for both parties. For the person leaving it behind, it gives you a sense of peace that you've said certain things. And for the person receiving that, how wonderful to know that your loved one was thinking of you and that you can hold on to this.
[00:08:21]
Melissa Ceria: It’s not surprising that my dad’s book brings us solace. To Dawn’s point, he wrote it with intention, and the words that he gifted us were meant to offer comfort. I’m so grateful for his gift. This is Melissa Ceria. Thank you for listening.
Why a recent life writing book isn’t on my recommended list
It’s important to me to stress some sense of urgency about writing about your life—but I don’t think you’ll have regrets if you don’t write about it ALL.
There are lots of books I read and don’t recommend to you, as they’re not worth your time. For a list of the top titles I think ARE worth your time (with notes on why), check out this post.
I read a lot of books about the craft of writing and about life writing and memoir in particular, and I often share the ones I recommend on social media or on the blog. There are plenty of books I read (or, on occasion, only start to read) then decide they are not worth sharing.
I am not a newspaper columnist; it’s not in me to share a bad review—so the ones I think aren’t worth your time, I usually just skip over. Today, though, I wanted to write a “negative” review…sort of. Without naming the author or title, I thought I’d share what I did not like about a particular recent read.
This book purported to be a step-by-step guide to writing about your life. There were a few good writing prompts sprinkled throughout, but beyond that the author was redundant and made few if any insightful or truly helpful points. On the contrary, they hammered home—on literally every other page—how if you don’t write about every single thing that happens in your life, you will be filled with regret.
“The consequence of not taking action is a life’s worth of memories lost,” they write. “Regret. Regret. Regret.”
Now, don’t get me wrong: I see regret all the time. People who wish they had captured their parents’ stories before they died. People who wish they had begun writing their own stories sooner, before memories began to fade, or before illness or dementia interfered. Heck, the quote I share most often is from William Zinsser: “One of the saddest sentences I know is ‘I wish I had asked my mother about that.’”
However, I don’t think we need to worry about remembering ALL THE THINGS.
“Regret,” the author writes. “Nothing documented. I was forgetting my life. You’ll forget your life too. We always do.”
These repeating remonstrations about forgetting our lives rubbed me the wrong way. They reminded me of the compulsive diarying that Sarah Manguso explored in Ongoingness: The End of a Diary (an incredible short read that I highly recommend—and, ironically, despite the title, Manguso’s diary writing has not ended, just shifted the purpose it holds in her life).
Early in that book Manguso writes:
“I didn’t want to lose anything. That was my main problem… I wrote so I could say I was truly paying attention. Experience in itself wasn’t enough. The diary was my defense against waking up at the end of my life and realizing I’d missed it.”
We should not, in my opinion, write about our lives out of fear. We should be conscious of our mortality and feel a sense of urgency about writing something thoughtful to pass on, yes—but it’s my belief that “that something” can be as brief and straightforward as an ethical will or a legacy letter. And when that life writing takes a longer form, such as a memoir or a life story book or even an extended diary—that it should aim to find meaning in some way, not merely record all our experiences, mundane and profound, for the sake of not forgetting.
We’ve all got enough pressures in our lives without adding an unnecessary one around preservation. Story sharing can be good for your health, research shows. And it’s gratifying, too. But it needn’t be burdensome or reinforce fears. It should be accessible and even enjoyable.
So please do get your life writing project off your bucket list. Start small, if you like (this two-word prompt will help, I promise). And if you’re ready to embark on a bigger project and would like some professional help, reach out to see how we can work together.
But don’t worry about forgetting all the time. Be present. Embrace life as you are living it. Pay attention! And make room for your writing amidst your experiences!
