A few short excerpts from the kinds of stories families have begun with StoryKeeper. Names and details are illustrative.
Rose was born in a small farming town in Pennsylvania, the youngest of seven. She remembers the smell of bread her mother baked every Saturday, and the long shadows the barn threw across the field at dusk. When the war came, her brothers left one by one — and Rose learned to drive the tractor at twelve…
He doesn't talk about Vietnam much. But on a quiet morning at the kitchen table, he told me about a friend named Davis — a kid from Iowa who could make anyone laugh. He told me about the letter he wrote to Davis's mother, and the night sky over the Mekong that he says he still sees when he closes his eyes…
Every Sunday for sixty years, Nonna made the sauce. She'd start at 7 a.m. with onions and garlic from her garden, and by noon the whole house smelled like home. The secret, she always said, was a little sugar — 'just a pinch, never a spoon, mio caro' — and to never, ever rush the simmer…
The cabin had no electricity, and we loved it. Mornings were oatmeal on the wood stove and the loons calling across the water. Afternoons were the long swim out to the raft, where Dad would be waiting with the binoculars and a story about the time he saw a bear catch a fish with one paw…