Repeating myself

repeating myself

I’m always looking for ideas for these blogs. Sometimes they come thick and fast, and other times not so much. The other day I telling someone about my childhood in the Northwest, and the eruption of Mount St. Helens, and it hit me: what a good idea for a blog!

Thank goodness I check myself from time to time. It turns out I wrote about St. Helens back on July 13, 2011.

Goodness! I almost repeated myself!

But we repeat ourselves all the time. We create our own mythologies, and refine them. I watched my mother do it over time: she repeated her childhood stories over and over again, and they evolved subtly over time, becoming more and more flattering to herself and her family.

I leave it to you to wonder how much of my material is real and how much is – ahem – refined.

Because I freely admit that I am my mother’s son.

(And, if you feel like it, you can read about Mount St. Helens here. It’s not a bad little attempt at a remembrance.

(And it’s mostly true.)

About Loren Williams
Gay, partnered, living in Providence, working at a local university. Loves: books, movies, TV. Comments and recriminations can be sent to

8 Responses to Repeating myself

  1. What I remember about Mt St Helen’s: I was in love with someone quite wonderful, but after the mountain blew she moved back from Seattle to Ithaca, NY. She was sure the west coast was “going to fall into the sea”.

    • People are so silly. I had a conversation with a Rhode Islander back then, who talked about the earthquakes and volcanoes on the West Coast and how he was terrified of them and would NEVER live there. A few days later a (small) hurricane blew through here. We lived through it.

  2. starproms says:

    You don’t do things by halves in America, do you! Can you remember the date when that mountain blew?

    • I didn’t remember the actual date, but I could remember that it was the spring of 1980 (because I remember the apartment I was living in at the time), and that it was May (because my youngest nephew was born then). I wasn’t there, but my mother was there, and she felt the house jump when the mountain blew up.

      • starproms says:

        Yes, I thought so. I had my youngest son on 8th May 1980 and I have a memory that it was about that time. I had him two days after the siege on the Iranian Embassy here in London (6th May 1980). I think all the excitement brought him on! It was filmed live on TV as it happened and our SAS were magnificent. I remember at the time thinking ‘what a world to bring a baby into!’.

      • Is that your son who just had a child? 1980 seems like just the other day. I had lunch today with two people who retired from my office a few years ago, and they’re both in their late 60s/early 70s, and none of us believes that we’re old. We’re still doing the things we love to do. And we’re still all here. So there!

      • starproms says:

        Yes, my son David was born in May 1980. People do seem a lot younger these days, don’t they. I think our outlooks are younger. Just need for our bodies to catch up!

      • I’ve said this before: I’m still only about five years old on the inside. It hurts a little when I look in the mirror.

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