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A trailhead running buddy just sent me this link to a six-word memoir contest sponsored by Smith. That’s right … SIX words. Apparently, when given this assignment, Ernest Heminway wrote:
For sale: baby shoes, never used.
Lord, how does one follow that?
I plan to make this my spring assignment for seejanerun, so if any of you Janes are reading this blog, you get a head start.
Here’s what I sent in (seeing as how I’m in a bonafide mid-life crisis):
So much promise!
Such potential!
yet,
“I dance in cage with men.”
try to guess!
Hmmm.
Hard to beat Ernest when sober
( . . . and actually, now that I think of it, THAT was six words. . . . But I had in mind the following, one of many Ballads for the Country Doc):
Not always helpful, always showed up.
I’m the last person. Phone rings…
Reminds of a joke. Someone calls the Obits at their local paper. I would like to place an Obit. Go ahead. “Joes’ dead”
“Ma’am, you have six words” “Joes dead, Toyota Camry for Sale”
[...] This morning I pondered what is 45 (halfway to 90, God willing) in my preparation for our seejanerun spring season. As I mentioned earlier, I assigned a six-word memoir poem for the first day of practice. A memoir is a written form of self-revelation, just as this blog is a way to reveal oneself. Who am I now, at 45? How am I different from 25 or 35? [...]
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