Everyone's got a story

I adore this photo of my grandparents, taken on the Au Sable River in northern Michigan in the early 1930s. My grandparents - Herbie and Jeri - were married more than 60 years and I love how this photo captures a moment very early on in their relationship.

I was inspired to track down this picture (thank you, Mom) after hearing what my friend and fellow writer Heather Shumaker is up to these days. Formerly with the Grand Traverse Regional Conservancy - she served as coastal program director for eight years - Heather decided to pursue a lifelong passion for writing and started a successful freelancing career. She's written for a range of magazines, including Parenting, Organic Gardening and Traverse. Recently, she's delved into personal life history writing.

As one of only eight personal historians in the state - the only one in northern Michigan, according to the Association of Personal Historians - Heather works with families to record a person's life story. (The 600+ member Association, by the way, is growing rapidly. "It's kind of neat how people are really starting to value family stories," Heather says.)

Through her business Life Story Trust, she conducts interviews, writes the individual's life story and provides it in a hardback book. She also provides an audio recording to preserve the person's voice.

"My emphasis, because I am a writer, is to develop a beautifully-written piece," Heather explains.

Many people would love to have their story - or their loved ones' stories - recorded for future generations. Some people even attempt such a project themselves, which can work out just fine.
But Heather believes such a task can prove overwhelming for a lot of people - in fact, she hears this time and again.

"I think it helps to have an outside person do the writing," she says. "Doing it yourself can be daunting."

Over the course of up to three face-to-face interviews, Heather takes that information and crafts a person's story. She has loads of experience doing this, for clients as well as her own family members. In fact, she first got a taste of this kind of writing during her college years at Swarthmore College, just outside Philadelphia. As a student, studying sociology and anthropology, she interviewed people to learn their life story for class assignments.

Each person's story is interesting, though a few specific experiences she's heard stand out: a woman who, as a little girl in Jamaica, threw tangerines at a watchman; a man who talked about what it was like to be the son of a lighthouse keeper; and a woman who was brought up in Nazi Germany.

Anyone interested in their family heritage would appreciate what Heather is doing. She says retirees are working with her, as are adult children who want to have their parents' life stories recorded and cherished by younger family members. Heather herself is the mom of two: Alex, 4 1/2 and Luke, 1.

Heather told me she feels like her life has come full circle, considering how what she studied in college is now serving her well in her new career. Even her years following her passion for non-profits and environmental work are, in a way, tied into the path she's now following.

"I used to preserve land, and now I preserve stories."

To learn more about Heather Shumaker's Life Story Trust, email her at heather@lifestorytrust.com or visit www.lifestorytrust.com .

I found my thrill...

Back in high school, it was a place to drive to with your date. It wasn't a make-out spot - no place to park except smack-dab in front of a home -- but more of a scenic venture uphill that, once at the top, provided an incredible view of West Grand Traverse Bay and the city lights below.

It's still a location we'll drive to now and again with the kids, especially around the holidays to see Christmas decorations, but Wayne Hill in Traverse City holds a new and different meaning nowadays: an excruciatingly steep stretch of road I'm determined to conquer in the weeks leading up to the Bayshore Marathon. Which is, scarily enough, fast-approaching. Hello, less than three months away to race day.

So, Wayne Hill. It's a gorgeous area on the west side of the city, a looped neighborhood of maybe three dozen or so homes, some of which have amazing panoramic views given the location's high elevation overlooking the Bay and city stretching eastward. I remember when a grade school friend moved from the lower-lying east side to Wayne Hill in junior high, and our group of friends all thought, "Wow, her family has arrived!"

In recent years I've run not even half-way up Wayne Hill. It was part of my running group's regular route, but we always took a sharp right onto a trail before the road turned too steep. As I train for the longest race I've ever attempted, I got the crazy idea that maybe I should Just. Keep. Going. and let this hill know I mean business. Hill work supposedly helps your endurance, right? I don't know the specifics of this; all I know is running up hills is super hard and so I figure there must be some payback for the ridiculous amount of effort that goes into running at an incline.

So the other day, feeling particularly ambitious and deliriously happy about the sunshine finally making an appearance in northern Michigan, I kept right on going up Wayne Hill.

With help from 90s music blaring on my iPod (thank you, Rob Base"It Takes Two"), I got....not quite there.

This is a big, big hill. What was I thinking?

Strong as I felt at the bottom, three-quarters of the way up, I was toast. Lungs and legs were burning, the thumping, normally keep-me-going music wasn't cutting it. I was done. So I stopped and walked, completely out of breath.

That's when I noticed a man getting out of his car in a driveway just ahead of me. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but he was clearly looking at me and his mouth was moving. I removed my iPod earphones.

"Wow, just watching you run up this hill makes me tired! I can hardly walk it. Great job! Keep it up!" Then he waved before going inside his home.

Amazing how a simple comment from a stranger can make you feel pretty awesome. And maybe a tad crazy. Who does run Wayne Hill anyway?

This is not the part where the corny music is cued and I suddenly experienced an infusion of strength to keep going, to victoriously go on to reach the top of the summit. I still kept walking, huffing and puffing each step. I did manage a weak wave and smile in the man's direction.

But the top wasn't so far off, and once there, I was reminded of the spectacular view - made even more beautiful by the sparkling ice and snow covering the water below. I stood there for a few moments, taking it in ... and catching my breath.

Next time, I think, it won't be so bad. And there's always the view.