Welcome to Mark My Words

I am eighty-three, a retired, reclusive bachelor who loves to read and write.

I write for myself and to share with a few friends. I did not intend for my projects to be public. Nor am I a scholar, so I did not maintain accurate identification of my sources.

When I began revising my memoir I was struck by what I had written in September 2011: It crossed my mind that my dad is probably destined to be known only as I have created him in my writings. That is, in ten years or so, those who have vibrant memories of Dad will be dead. (Sadly, in 2026, I am now the only one living.)

I continued: And then there is me. My childhood will be effectively erased from living memory. As a practical matter, I have already faded into obscurity in the minds of friends from high school and college, with a handful of exceptions. I’m a tangential, passive presence—not a vital one—in the lives of my family and friends today. I’ve not participated in the creation of personal memories during the last few years. In short, I’m something of a ghost already. But a ghost of my own making, of my own description, of my own written record—the ghost of me in my memoir, my reviews, my projects, and my letters, which is, for me, a profound and disquieting commentary on the power of memory, of the written word, and of imaginative creativity as an adjunct or even a replacement for physical reality.

Thus arose the contemporary impetus for a legacy in writing, especially the memoir. I have been hindered by a steep decline in my memory and by a severe inability to understand any new tech, which includes the bells and whistles of my first smart phone and of this website. If a few readers email me—my preferred choice of communication, no calls or texts—I apologize to them in advance if I have been slow to reply.

My plan is to use this welcome letter for a list of corrections that might arise, to be included on occasion in a revised PDF version. I trust you will find the memoir to be readable. A tear or two. And a laugh or six.

Sincerely,
Mark