Cathy and I are back from a book festival in Louisville, Kentucky. We were delighted to catch up with an old friend and to make a new one. During dinner after the festival closed, our new friend asked a question: “What was an odd dessert you made for yourself when you were a kid?” My answer was graham crackers with cake frosting. Just now, I remembered making toast, cheese, and jelly sandwiches. Kids are innovative, you know. Anyway, our new friend’s question soon gave rise to other questions. “What were your least favorite meals in your high school cafeteria?” “Which of your mother’s meals disappointed you?” “What was your favorite breakfast cereal when you were a kid?” “Do you remember the moment you knew what your favorite color was and why?” I love questions like these because often someone’s answer comes with a story. The details take us back into memory and can become a way of accessing material that may be embarrassing or uncomfortable. Our minds trick us into thinking we’re only talking about Sugar Snaps, for instance, when really we’re talking about a year when we missed too much school because we had some sort of separation anxiety, and what the heck was that all about? We must write about the experience to figure out possible answers. Small details like Sugar Snaps can become doorways into the mysteries we long to understand.

So I offer up our questions to those of you who are writing memoir, or even to those of you who write fiction or poetry, in hopes you can use your answers to explore whatever questions they suggest. One question from the seemingly mundane (a favorite breakfast cereal) can suggest another question that lies beneath the surface (my separation anxiety). It’s that second question that demands our attention.