Melissa Ramos' Keepsake

Melissa Ramos wrote a story about one of her keepsakes—a necklace her sister gave her when her grandfather died.

Melissa Ramos is a young writer who attends Heritage Middle School in Ringgold, Georgia. After my visit to Heritage earlier this year, Melissa sat down and crafted a story about one of her cherished keepsakes—a necklace.

I'm so impressed with young writers like Melissa. They have such a fresh way of looking at the world and a wonderful way with words and phrases. If there is one thing that I wish every young writer believed, it is simply this—You are so much better than you think you are!

I hope you enjoy Melissa's story, and I hope it inspires you to think about one of your own keepsakes. Where did it come from? Why is it special? What memories does it hold? Write the story of your keepsake on paper and share it with others. 

Melissa wrote about a necklace—a reminder of her grandfather's death and the kindness her sister extended to her. Here's Melissa's story titled, "Believe."

My family and I were in the car talking about how much fun we had at the beach. Our faces were as red as ripe tomatoes. You could still smell the salt water of the ocean.

My mom was driving which was very unusual. Then my dad, with a serious face, said he had something to tell us. I knew by the way he'd been acting that something was wrong—he wasn't about to tell us that we'd won the lottery. It only took him a minute to say one sentence, but it felt like an eternity.

"Your grandpa died this morning," he said.

Those five words quieted us all—as if the sentence took our voices away from us.

I couldn't believe what my dad had said. At that age, I'd never lost someone so important to me.

I don't remember crying when my dad told us the bad news. It just didn't register in my mind that I would never, ever see my grandpa again.

Three days later, which went as fast as a turtle crossing the world, we attended his funeral. That day was the day I understood that my grandpa was gone forever, and that he would not be coming back. I burst into tears.

My sister saw me and gave me a necklace. The necklace has a cross, a white pearl , and a circle inscribed with the word, "believe."

She told me each item on the necklace has a unique meaning. The cross means my grandpa is with God. The white pearl is going to wash my sadness away. And the little circle with the word, "believe," meant that everything was going to be okay—that I just need to trust that God has better plans than I do.

My sister always used to ask me: Do you want to make God laugh? Then tell  him your plans.

And that's how a simple five-dollar necklace became as valuable as a diamond to me. I wouldn't sell it for a million dollars!

—Melissa Ramos, Heritage Middle School

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Thanks for sharing your beautiful story, Melissa. I hope you continue writing. Believe in yourself—you are already a great writer.

I hope that Melissa's story inspires you to share your stories behind your keepsakes. Give it a try. You are a better writer than you think. 

For more stories about keepsakes, check out the stories on this blog or pick up a copy of Project Keepsake. The last chapter of the book takes you step-by-step through the process of writing your own keepsake story. 

Kaylie Guinn's Keepsake

I think all writers and authors should give back. We should share our experiences with other writers. We should encourage young writers to pursue writing and storytelling. We should offer our advice and assistance.

Charm bracelets help people remember significant moments of life, and so do keepsake stories. Kaylie Guinn shares a story about her charm bracelet and the dangling charms it holds. 

Back in February, I spent a few days giving back by encouraging classes of young writers at Heritage Middle School in Northwest Georgia. I talked to them about publishing Project Keepsake, and I shared some writing tips with them. 

They were a bright, attentive bunch of kids, and I enjoyed my time there. A few of the students took on my writing challenge and wrote stories about their own keepsakes, and I've posted them here on my blog. Today, I present young Kaylie Guinn's keepsake story to you.

Kaylie has led a "charmed" life. Enjoy her story about her charm bracelet.

The roaring of "Happy Birthdays" filled the room. Everything was simply fabulous that day. We had just finished chomping on some cake when Mom yelled, "It's time to open presents."

I had just turned one, so I really had no idea what was going on. On that day—my first birthday—I received  a charm bracelet from my nana and mom. It was a sparkly, silver  bracelet with a silver "K" on it, and I loved it so much.

On my birthdays on all the following years, I would get another charm, and every charm meant something different.

On my second birthday, I received an elephant charm, because I loved going to the zoo.

On my third birthday, I got an angel, because my great-grandmother died that year.

On my fourth birthday, I got a frog charm, representing the times when my uncle and I caught frogs in his backyard. 

When I was five, we traveled a lot to the beach, so on my fifth birthday,  I got a dolphin charm.

When I was six, I had a peace sign party, so that year, I got a silver peace sign with pink diamonds.

On my seventh birthday, I received a pineapple charm, because that was my favorite fruit.

For my eighth, I received a green and pink polkadot one—representing my two favorite colors when I was little.

On my ninth birthday, I got a Bible charm. I enjoyed going to church, and I am a Christian, so the charm was perfect.

On my tenth, I received a birth stone charm to represent my date of birth.

On my eleventh birthday, I got a red and navy charm, because the colors represent Heritage Middle School.

On my twelfth birthday, I got a turtle, reminding me of the time we hooked a turtle at the lake, instead of a fish. 

Now, I am thirteen years old, and I received a charm with a megaphone on it.

All through the years, I've received charms that say something about who I am and about my life. The tradition continues, and I find myself wondering: Will the tradition ever end, or will it last for as long as I live?

—Kaylie Guinn, Heritage Middle School

Thanks to Kaylie for sharing her story with Project Keepsake. Keep storytelling alive! Share the stories that matter in your life. 

Lindsey White's Keepsake

I love working with young writers, so I was excited to work with the students at Heritage Middle School in Ringgold, Georgia back in February of this year. I shared a few secrets with them—use strong verbs, add a few dashes of dialogue, start with a strong hook paragraph, etc. After each class, I said, "If any of you write a keepsake story and send it to me, I'll publish it on my blog." 

I received Lindsey White's keepsake story a few weeks ago, and as promised, I'm posting the story here for the world to read and consider. Lindsey was masterful at using his grandfather's bible as a way to launch into a story filled with rich memories. It's a great tribute to his grandfather.

Enjoy Lindsey's story titled, "My Grandfather's Bible."

It was getting close to summer time, which meant it had been over a year since my grandfather passed away.  He was in his early eighties when he died.  I was twelve at the time.  I was looking through some of his old Bible studies, lessons, and books at my grandmother’s house.  That's when I came across a Bible that had "Reed White" written on the bottom right corner in gold letters. 

I started to look through it, turning all the old worn pages.  He had written many little words throughout the Bible and underlined verses in blue and black ink.  I looked up to my grandmother and asked, “May I have Papa’s Bible?” 

She said, “Well of course you can, as long as you use it.” 

In excitement, I said, “Yes I definitely will.”

My grandfather grew up in a very poor environment.  At birth his twin brother and mom died, and his father was not in the picture.  His grandmother ended up raising him.  However, he made the best of what he had.  He graduated college and went on to work for the State of Tennessee until he retired.  He was deacon and taught Sunday school for thirty-something years. 

I had always looked up to my grandfather.  He was a very Godly man.  He never once judged people.  He taught me to get to know someone by looking in their inner appearance, not outer.  I thought very highly of him.

 My grandfather and I had always been close.  Every day after school, my grandmother would pick me up and drive me to their house. We would play different kinds of games.  My favorite game was Chinese checkers. 

But the first thing I did every day when I got to their house was sit on the red and green couch beside my papa’s dark green chair and tell him a joke.  Most of the time, my jokes were not even funny, but he would laugh like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. 

Then he would tell me a new joke that someone had told him.  I remember when he asked me, “Where do one-legged waitresses work at?” 

Then he said, “IHOP,” and we laughed.  

I had the best time with my grandfather even if all we did was tell jokes to one another.

It has been around a year since I have had his Bible, about two years since he passed.  I leave his old red Bible on my dresser.  It is always open to the verse that he told me to live by when I got my first “big boy Bible” and when I got baptized.  The verse is Jeremiah 29:11.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans to prosper you, not to harm you.” 

Every day I look at the Bible and that verse to remind me of what a great, Godly man and grandfather he was.  In the back of the Bible, it has pieces of advice.  There are sections on marriage, revel, repentance, and many more.  I feel that he wrote these things not only to help him, but to help me. 

That old, ripped and torn red Bible means so much to me because it was my grandfather's.  I will keep it until it is time to give it away to one of my grandkids.  Then they can pass it on to their kids.  I want it to be something that continues throughout my family. 

I have other things from my grandfather like two of his jackets, but his Bible means more to me than anything else.  Even though my grandfather is in Heaven right now, and I did not get a lot of time to be with him, he still means so much to me.  

Sometimes I will hold his Bible and read it when I am going through hardships because it reminds me of him.  My grandfather and his Bible will always be important to me.

—Lindsey White, Heritage Middle School

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Lindsey may be young, but the love he had for his Papa is universal. I love the fact that he and his grandfather shared special moments together telling each other jokes. I love Lindsey inserting "big boy Bible," into his story. Again, his story is a wonderful tribute to a man who meant so much to him.

Thanks, Lindsey. Keep recording your memories and feelings.

Keep storytelling alive, friends! Share the stories that matter. If you don't know how to get started, pick up a copy of Project Keepsake and read how other writers told their stories.

As always, thanks for your interest in Project Keepsake.

Taylor Dyer's Keepsake

Earlier this year, I worked with several students at Heritage Middle School in Ringgold, Georgia. I shared my tips for writing stories about keepsakes and encouraged them to give storytelling and writing a try. 

Taylor Dyer wrote a keepsake story about a baseball signed by pitching great, Tom Glavine.

Taylor Dyer was one of those students. I love his hook—the way he opens his keepsake story with the tension of a close ball game. I also love the way he articulated the sound of a baseball being hit with a bat—"BANG." I know that sound. As I read Taylor's story, I could hear that sound in my head.

Enjoy Taylor's story, "The Autographed Baseball."

“Go! Go! Go!” the fans roared. It was the last inning of the game and the Ringgold Tigers were down by one point. There was a runner on second and third with two outs.

BANG!

I have played baseball since I was very young, especially with the Ringgold Tigers select team. When I was young, baseball became a habit for me, but as I grew older, baseball started to fade away from my life.

I enjoyed playing baseball with my friends Dalton, Blake, and Wyatt, along with my other friends. Our team had won many games including the Region Championship where I had made two out of three outs in the final inning to win the game.

One of the things I enjoyed most about baseball was hanging out with my friends all the time. We would always go somewhere after my game, whether it was out to eat, to an amusement park, or over to a friend’s house to spend the night.

When I was ten years old and my team made it to the World Series, we went to Panama City, Florida. My team and I had a blast. We ate at lots of restaurants where we devoured delicious food. We won most of our games including one against a team that Tom Glavine’s son pitched on. For those of you who aren't familiar with Tom Glavine, he is a legend. He was a left handed pitcher for the Atlanta Braves during the late 1990s. 

The other team we were facing had maintained the lead throughout the majority of the game, but in the last inning of the game, our team rallied. We scored consecutive runs that put us down by only one run. There were runners on second and third and two outs.

My friend Peyton was up to bat. He didn’t swing at the first few pitches, then, “BANG!” He nailed a grounder up the middle of the field allowing both runners to score, giving us the victory. It was a hard-battled game, but we came out with the victory.

After the game, my family and I went to the opposing team’s dugout where we met Tom Glavine. He autographed my baseball and my baseball hat. I was so excited that I met one of my favorite major league players. When we returned home to Georgia from Florida, I put my baseball in front of my window in my bedroom so I could admire it every day. The ball smelled like leather, just like my baseball glove.

As I started losing interest in baseball, I began to appreciate the ball even more. It brought back so many great memories of playing baseball with my friends.  Since all of my friends on my team now attend different schools, I hardly ever see them. No matter how much I hated the hot weather, or how many times I said, “ I don’t want to play baseball,” my autographed baseball will always make me miss the greatest moments of that time.

—Taylor Dyer, Heritage Middle School

Taylor also sent this photo of himself and a teammate standing with Tom Glavine. I'm sure that was an exciting moment for him and his friends. And kudos to Tom Glavine for signing balls and posing for photos, even though his son's team lost that day.

Thank you for sharing your story, Taylor. Keep writing! You are a wonderful storyteller, and we certainly need more storytellers in the world moving into the future. Best of luck to you!

Kimi Carter's Keepsake

Pictured is the music journal from The Decemberists. Kimi Carter shares a keepsake story about a journal.

Earlier this year, I worked with several students at Ringgold's Heritage Middle School and encouraged them to write stories about their keepsakes. After my visit, Kimi Carter, a gifted student who attended one of the classes, drafted a story about a journal and sent it to me.

I love the action in her story and can see her bolting through her house trying to rouse all the sleepy heads in her family. Her words are filled with such joy.

Here's Kimi's keepsake story, "The Journal." Enjoy!

I woke up on the warm side of the bed—my face hot and my body sweating, but my feet, which weren’t under the covers, were freezing.  I looked over and checked the time: 6:43 a.m. 

"Am I too late?" I thought, "or am I too early?"

I got up anyways and darted up the stairs to my brother’s room.  

“Jacob! Jacob! Wake up! It’s Christmas!” I exclaimed, all the excitement in my voice exposed.

“Kimi, go back to sleep,” he groaned into his pillow. “The presents will still be here when you wake back up.”

I got the same response every year, but each year I continued to wake him up enough that he couldn’t go back to sleep.

“I’ll be down in a second,” he finally gave in. I grinned and ran back down the stairs, bursting into my sister’s room.

“Katie, it’s Christmas!” I woke her up. I usually got a better, more exciting response from her.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes.  She yawned and stretched, looking over at me. “Have you woken Mom and Dad up yet?” she asked.

I shook my head. “It’s your turn this year.”

She sighed and stood up. I ran into the living room and saw the stockings lined up in front of the tree, just as they are placed every year on Christmas morning.

“Santa came!” I grinned excitedly.

Mom and Dad stepped out of their bedroom and watched their 11-year old daughter jump for joy.

Christmas was always special to me. Everything felt like it was happier—more magical.  I knew that one day that magic would fade as I grew older. But on this day, it was still there while we were digging through our stockings that the fat man brought us. 

After my brother and sister opened their stockings, I didn’t expect much: socks, shampoo, undergarments, some candy maybe.  I pulled out a few of those things, but I wasn’t disappointed at all.  I dug through the socks and underwear and shampoo and found a very unexpected item.

“What is it?” I asked, flipping through the blank pages of a black, sparkly book.

“A journal, I suppose.” Mom smiled. “Or a songbook.”

“Maybe Santa noticed how much you talk about Taylor Swift and her writing and he got you a songbook,” dad suggested.

I examined it for a second, and then smiled. “I like it.”

Four years later, I sit on my bed flipping through the crowded pages of a beat up songbook.  Every page is filled with rhymes about life and love and loss.  It holds my thoughts, my emotions, and my secrets.

The Christmas present I received four years ago is now my best friend.

—Kimi Carter, Heritage Middle School

Thank you for sharing your keepsake story with me, Kimi, and most of all, keep writing and sharing your stories. You're a natural! I look forward to seeing you in the future—as you walk to the stage at the Grammy's to accept a songwriter's award. Keep storytelling alive!