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“Memoirs of a Memoir” by Megan Merritt. The Big Green, Volume 4, Issue 4, February 1, 2006 “Traditions: This is Your Life” by Shelly Gigante. Citipursuits, p. 7, January 2006 “A New Year’s Resolution: Giving the Past a Future” by Andrea Gross. Tampa Bay Metro, p. 37, December/January 2006 “Saving Lives: One Book at a Time” by Richie Davis. Greenfield Recorder, photos by Peter MacDonald, September 10, 2005"Your Past as Prologue; Writing a memoir not only preserves a family's history, but it can also serve as a guidebook for future generations" by Ian Keown, Robb Report WORTH, pp. 75-78. February 2005. "Helpers Can Jog Your Memoirs" by Dianna Marder, The Philadelphia Inquirer, E-1. November 12, 2004. Reprinted in The Tribune, San Luis Obispo, California. A-2. November 29, 2004 "Of Interest: Modern Memoirs" by Joan Taylor,The Women's Times. Pioneer Valley, Massachusetts. April 2004 Healthy Aging Today Radio KEZW (1430AM) Aurora, Colorado. Interviewed by Sue and Dennis Stretar. February 8, 2004 "Lights! Camera! You! You don't have to be a celebrity to get your life story on video. It's Ken Burns for everyman" by Kristen A. Graham, Philadelphia Inquirer. Sunday, March 9, 2003 “Making Memories Last” by Irene S. Levine. Ladies Home Journal. March 2003 “Family Stories Kept Alive” by Erik Derr. The Seattle Times. May 4, 2002 “Stepping Out, Increasing numbers of women are making the transition from employee to employer” by George O’Brien, BusinessWest (Springfield, Massachusetts). March 2002 Iyanla (talk TV show) expert on leaving your legacy, aired February 25, 2002 “Ordinary people. Memoirs used to be the territory of the famous, the intrepid or the afflicted. Today, everyone’s getting into the act.” By Chris Wright, Boston Phoenix, January 17-23, 2002. This is our favorite, albeit controversial article so far. An insightful writer looks at personal memoirs and private publishing from varying points of view and interviews intelligent people who have done both. “These People Want to Hear Old Family Ties” by Susan H. Thompson, Tampa Tribune, Sunday, November 4, 2001 “Life Stories. Professionals help bind family memories” by Kristi Wright, Sunday World-Herald (Omaha, Nebraska), P. 1, Living section. Sunday, October 14, 2001 The Round Table, WAMC, WAMK, WOSR, WCEL, WCAN, WANC, WAMQ, W205AJ, W226AC, W299AG public radio stations, New York/Berkshires/Southern Vermont. Interviewed by Joe Donahue. Thursday, July 26, 2001, 11:07-11:22 a.m. "Ordinary People. Unique stories emerge in oral, visual histories" by Ronni Gordon. Sunday Republican, (Springfield, Massachusetts) page. G-1 Lifestyle. July 22, 2001 NBC News with Tom Brokaw. Interviewed by Sylvie Oberlander, Washington D.C. office. Friday, July 6, 2001 "Candid Cameras. Average folks pay to put life's memories on videotape." By Ellen Barry. Boston Globe , page B-1 City and Region. June 13, 2001 CNBC, Morning News interview, aired early November 2000
"The Business of Lives: Why People Are Turning to Professionals to Preserve their Life Stories." By David Maloof. Hampshire Life (part of the Daily Hampshire Gazette). Cover story. Photos by Gordon Daniels. August 27-September 2, 1999 "Modern Memoirs: Creating Family Histories." By Maria Trombly. Franklin Magazine (part of the Union News). Cover story. Photos by Matthew Cavanaugh. August 1, 1999 "Focus: Kitty Axelson-Berry." By Rachel Barenblat. The Women's Times , Vol. I No. 2. Photo by Tara Conant. June 1999 "Making Business History: Author Builds a Profitable Business Out of Writing Memoirs." By David Simons. Business West, The Business Journal of Western Massachusetts. Photo credit (erroneous) Paul Shoul. June 1999 "New Wave." By Kaede Seville. Nikkei Ryutsu. In Japanese with photo by David Oxton. May 5, 1999 "Committed to memories: Through specially created books and video documentaries…businesswomen are helping families reconnect with their past." By Dave Hoekstra. Chicago Sun Times, page 40A. April 4, 1999 "History gets personal touch. Biographers capture lives of everyday men, women." By Scott Farmelant. Boston Sunday Herald Photos by David Oxton. January 24, 1999 "Historians-for-Hire Chronicle Lives of Ordinary Folks." By Hilary Stout. The Wall Street Journal, Cover, Marketplace Section (Enterprise). Graphics, Memoirs by Doris P. Lebow (Modern Memoirs). December 29, 1998 "Recharging the Soul: Retreats for women designed to nurture the spiritual side." By Pat Cahill. Springfield Republican. Photo by Charles Abel. September 1998 "Memories and Memoirs:" By Ruth Cohen. Elder Vision (Northampton Council on Aging). Photo by Terese Legere. March/April 1998 "Survivors find solace in Bereavement Books" by Pat Cahill. Sunday Republican. Photo by Don Treeger. November 8, 1998 "Personal historians put family sagas on CD." CNN Interactive. February 17 or thereabouts, 1998 "Family Albums Digitized." Das Moderne Nachrichtenmagazin , FOCUS. In German. Photo by David Oxton. February 16, 1998 "I Remember Back When…Memoir fever proves infectious, sweeps the country." By Susan L. Crowley, AARP Bulletin, cover story. November 1997 "Behind Great Writers: Editors." By Daniel Grant. Daily Hampshire Gazette Books Section. Photo. July 30, 1997. "Remembrance of Things Past. Memoirs are a hot literary ticket these days." By Steve Pfarrer. Daily Hampshire Gazette, Around Amherst (Northampton/Amherst, Massachusetts). June 27, 1997 "Memories into Memoirs: Kitty Axelson-Berry now a free-lance editor." By Marietta Pritchard, columnist. Daily Hampshire Gazette. June 21, 1995 "Thanks for the Memories. Kitty Axelson-Berry, former Valley Advocate editor, starts Modern Memoirs." By Marilea Polk Fried. Amherst Bulletin, cover. Accompanying story, "Axelson-Berry, A Story of Her Own." Photo by Connie Gould. October 28, 1994 "Memories Become Memoirs: Putting pen to paper for posterity's sake." By Ali Crolius. Daily Hampshire Gazette, Living Section, cover story. Photo by Kevin Gutting. Date unknown BOOKS AND DOCUMENTARIES Marketing for Dummies by Alex Hiam (2000), used as an example of innovative marketing approach. Best Home Businesses for the '90s. OTHER "Setting a place for the spirit at Seder." Interview with Axelson-Berry. By Diane Lederman. Union News. Photo by David Molnar. April 14, 1997 "A New Telling: The Promised Land Haggadah." By Nancy Pick. Daily Hampshire Gazette. Books section. Review. April 5-6, 1997 "Promised Land Haggadah." By Christopher Moore. Optimist Magazine. Best Bets. April 1997 "Written By Sisters: The Promised Land Haggadah." Jewish Weekly News. April 1997 "On Sunday Afternoons: Music to Contemplate," by Richie Davis, The Recorder, Greenfield, February 6, 1997. "Jewish Holiday of Tu B'Shevat focuses on environment." Interview with Axelson-Berry. By Claire Hopley. Amherst Bulletin. Photo by Gordon Daniels. Arts and Leisure: Food. January 17, 1997 THE AMERICAN TRIBUTE CENTER “FDNY Families Put their Love in Books; Personal tributes are published free for a gift of ‘something that lasts’” by Bob Minzesheimer, USA Today. August 29, 2002 “Memoirs Commemorate Lives Lost on 9/11” by Mel Gussow. The New York Times (The Arts). August 28, 2002 “Book Project Preserves WTC Victims’ Life Stories” by William J. Gorta, New York Post. August 28, 2002 AN INSIGHTFUL (and Controversial) ARTICLE Memoirs used to be the territory of the famous, the intrepid, or the afflicted. Today, everyone’s getting into the act. America’s reading public has long been living in the shadow of the towering tell-all. In the past few years alone, we’ve had the Barthelme brothers losing their shirts in the casinos of Mississippi; Susanna Kaysen losing her mind at McLean Hospital; Jon Krakauer popping blood vessels on the slopes of Mount Everest; Elizabeth Wurtzel popping antidepressants all over the place; Kathryn Harrison slipping the tongue to her dad; Joyce Maynard slipping the tongue to J.D. Salinger; Adele Mailer being slapped around by Norman Mailer; and George Stephanopoulos taking potshots at Bill Clinton. The list of titles alone would be enough to fill a book. Whether sordid, maudlin, or action-packed, these memoirs have one thing in common: they sell. Indeed, much money has been made in the pursuit of literary self-discovery over the last few years. Angela’s Ashes (Scribner), Frank McCourt’s 1996 account of growing up dirt-poor in Ireland, catapulted its previously unheard-of author into the realm of super-celebrity: the book sold millions of copies worldwide and was made into a major motion picture. Not all memoirs, however, are born equal. Take last year’s There’s a Book in Here Somewhere: Insignificant Events of My Life, which was published to considerably less fanfare than, say, Dave Eggers’s A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius(Simon & Schuster, 2000). With a press run of 3000 copies, it’s safe to assume that There’s a Book in Here Somewhere won’t be hitting the bestseller lists any time soon. It’s also a fair bet that Steve Bernstein, who wrote it, won’t be one of Oprah’s featured authors in the immediate future. Not that he’s particularly bothered by this fact. For one thing, Steve Bernstein, 40, is not an author. A business manager at Citigroup, Bernstein would be the first to admit that he’s far more adept at composing memos than memoirs. And, although he spent a year and a half writing about what it’s like to be Steve Bernstein, he’s not expecting a flood of public interest. "I did this for myself and my friends and family," he says. "I wanted to produce something that my kids could have and read. I wanted to keep these memories going." Traditionally, the ability to write or at least publish a memoir has been contingent on a number of factors: you needed to be famous, or to have known someone famous, or to have done something noteworthy, or to have suffered something terrible, or even simply to have had a way with words. No more. Bernstein is one of a fast-growing number of ordinary, unwriterly Americans who have decided to record their experiences for posterity. And not content to sit down with a note pad and a pot of strong coffee, many of these would-be memoirists are seeking out the services of professionals to help them get their lives into print. In Bernstein’s case, he went to Amherst-based Modern Memoirs, a company owned by “personal historian" Kitty Axelson-Berry. Since its founding in 1994, Modern Memoirs has published about 50 personal-history books. Today, Axelson-Berry can hardly keep up with her growing client list. "I think more and more people are trying to make meaning of their lives," she says. "They want to increase their understanding and pass along what they’ve learned." And supply, as ever, follows closely on the heels of demand. Around the same time she founded her company, Axelson-Berry, 52, started the Association of Personal Historians (APH) to promote and coordinate the fledgling field. Since its first meeting in 1995, the APH has grown from about a dozen members to 250. There are eight APH-endorsed companies in Massachusetts alone, and an unknown number of what one personal historian describes as "hacks for hire." But, for now at least, there seems to be plenty of work to go around. "New clients," Axelson-Berry says, "keep on calling." Made up largely of retired teachers, journalists, genealogists, and therapists, personal historians are a fairly new offshoot of the book industry. Generally a one-person conglomerate of ghostwriter, editor, and publishing house, a personal historian makes writing a memoir as hands-off for the subject as possible. Indeed, with someone like Axelson-Berry behind you, you can be functionally illiterate and still get the job done. Though some memoirists, like Bernstein, choose to pen their own books (he hired Axelson-Berry as an editor and publisher), a large number choose the as-told-to technique ‘ the preferred autobiographical method of Hollywood celebs ‘wherein you sit down and, with a little prompting, tell your story. Your personal historian will take care of the rest: transcribing, writing, editing, scanning, designing, printing, binding. Before long, you’re the owner of a handsome memoir’ leather-bound and gold-embossed if you so wish. It couldn’t be easier. There is, however, one snag: the cost. Bernstein shelled out $30,000 for the privilege of seeing his thoughts in print. And though many personal historians charge a lot less for their services, some charge even more. Webster L. Bull, who in 1987 founded the Beverly-based Memoirs Unlimited, was one of the first professional personal historians ‘ and his services are among the priciest. "You have to be willing to spend at least $40,000 [for a memoir]," he says. "Plus printing costs." Forty thousand plus, of course, is a lot of money. "I’m damn good at what I do," says Bull. "We offer a tremendous service. And this is extraordinarily labor-intensive work." It seems STRANGE to say so when there are tens of thousands of dollars changing hands, but the growth of the personal-history industry amounts to the fulfillment of what academic Paul Diehl once described as the "democratization of the memoir." If Frank McCourt was a nobody before he published Angela’s Ashes, at least he had designs to be a somebody. He knew he had a good story on his hands, and he knew he had the talent to write it well. The majority of Axelson-Berry and Bull’s clients are unabashedly ordinary, and they tell unabashedly mundane tales. "I didn’t go out often," explains Doris Prowler Lebow (Axelson-Berry’s mother),in an as-told-to book titled simply Memoirs. "I took some gardening courses with Anne Hamburger, and some other classes ... I also knitted quite a bit ..." A little on the dry side, perhaps, but as far as Axelson-Berry’s concerned, such stories, while not notable (or quotable), deserve to be told. "Each person is a citadel," she says. "It’s not that everyone’s equal, it’s just that every person exists." It’s fitting, perhaps, that in an age where a cereal box can be considered fine art, the life story of a woman who likes to knit can be considered literature ‘or at least a form of history. There is, after all, a school of thought contending that history is made not by a few shining stars, but by the constellations of ordinary folk who surround them. In a time when many historians are less interested in Napoleon than they are in the guy who tended his horses, why shouldn’t Charlie Bisbee, founder of the Bisbee Mill Museum, in Chesterfield, Massachusetts, have his say’ Still, there are those who see dark ‘ or at least annoying ‘ forces at work here. While Axelson-Berry believes that the writing of personal histories is an important step towards ridding America of what she calls its "cultural amnesia,” columnist Stanley Crouch shudders at the "cultural narcissism" he sees underlying Americans’ penchant for writing about themselves. And Crouch is not alone in this view. "It’s another sign of the lust for celebrity in our times," says cultural critic James Bowman. "If you can’t be famous in the traditional way ‘ by doing something ‘ then you adopt the trappings of fame. Whatever money can buy in the way of fame, people have tried to buy it. This kind of memoir seems, by definition, to be a thing that could be of no interest to anyone ‘ except, perhaps, immediate family members." But that, says Kitty Axelson-Berry, is precisely the point. So-called vanity presses publish clients’ books with little or no in-house editing and minimal design, and with vague promises of future literary fame and fortune ‘ which rarely, if ever, materialize. By contrast, personal historians will not only write, edit, and design your book to your specifications, they'll make it clear from the get-go that the books they produce are meant to be heirlooms rather than potential bestsellers. "There is a big difference," Axelson-Berry says. "Vanity presses lead people on. They feed on people’s notions of grandeur. I don’t do that. My clients are welcome to get more copies and send them out to publishers, but I discourage them from doing that." And yet the occasional client will give the fame-and-fortune thing a whirl. "My book appeals to a much wider audience than I thought it would," says Steve Bernstein. "If someone wanted to pick it up, I’d be interested in talking to them." Another Modern Memoirs client, 83-year-old Charlie Bisbee, says his Roads Traveled ‘which documents his years spent in the Army and in state government ‘"will be on sale to the public." Then again, Bisbee has led a relatively full life. "The book," he says, "will have a chapter named ‘Me and Tip O’Neill.’" There have BEEN a couple of high-profile personal histories published over the last year. Vintage Books recently reprinted the late Washington Post publisher Katherine Graham’s 1997 Personal History, to wide acclaim. And then, of course, there was Tom Brokaw’s much-ballyhooed An Album of Memories: Personal Histories from the Greatest Generation (Random House). Indeed, Brokaw’s book ‘ a collection of 50 profiles of people who lived through World War II ‘ made personal-history writing one of last year’s hot literary genres. But An Album of Memories doesn’t just serve to lend the field an air of legitimacy; it also provides us with a clue as to why these personal-history books are such big business right now. The majority of people who hire personal historians are in their 70s and 80s. These are the men and women who ‘ like Brokaw’s subjects ‘ were around during World War II, the seminal event of the 20th century. They saw things. They did things. And they want to tell us about it. More important, their baby-boomer offspring are more than happy to pony up the cash to help them do so. As Axelson-Berry says, "We’re finding that we have this thirst to connect generations, to find out what our parents went through." Not everyone considers this a good thing. Last April, New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd wrote a piece called "The Gabbiest Generation." In it, she lamented” how sad it is that the Unsung Generation has become the Singing Generation.” She continued, "We encouraged our parents to stop being so modest and share their stories. Now they can’t stop gushing and celebrating themselves.... Not satisfied with one Me Generation, we made two. We felt guilty about not being more like them, strong and silent. So we made them more like us, gabby and navel-gazing." Dowd’s conclusion: "Boomers have done a bad, bad thing." "Bullshit," says Richard Stone, author of The Healing Art of Storytelling: A Sacred Journey of Personal Discovery (Hyperion, 1996). "It’s a great quote, but I think it’s bullshit, frankly. I think we’re living at a time when people are taking more time to reflect on the meaning of their lives, the value of their life legacy. It’s interesting that this is coming at a time when our country has gone through this huge expansion, this huge surge in wealth. People have more money than they ever dreamed of having, and they’re not satisfied. They’re asking, ‘What of enduring value can I leave behind’’ I believe that’s something that has spurred this growing interest in personal histories. It’s meeting that need to look back and make sense of things, and then pass that on." Not everyone who feels the urge to pass on his or her life experiences is a member of the World War II generation, however. Lowell resident Seng Ty, 33, is currently working on a book with Axelson-Berry that details his childhood under Pol Pot’s murderous regime in Cambodia. "I want people to learn what I went through," he says. "It’s very much about my life, the whole experience during the wars, genocide in Cambodia, how I escaped to a refugee camp in Thailand, and my coming to America." Ty’s story, though, is not marked by a sense of triumph. "Most of my family died during the revolution," he says. "It is very painful writing this memoir. I try to remember every detail. If you read the book, I describe a lot about my mother. I was very close to her ‘ she inspired me. Before she died she left me a message that I need to carry on. Even though my mother was not able to stay with me, her spirit is here." Writing his book, he says, "helped me in healing." "Personal histories," agrees Richard Stone, "can be profoundly therapeutic." This was certainly the case for Lynda Sun Lee, who hired Axelson-Berry to do an as-told-to memoir of her elderly parents, Rusky and Rose Sun, who immigrated to the US from their native China in the 1960s. Sun Lee originally commissioned the book to preserve the cultural and familial memories of an increasingly "Americanized" family. But before long, she began to realize the project would provide unexpected benefits. "My father basically had a lot of hang-ups," Sun Lee says. "A lot of things he’d been brooding over for many years. Kitty pushed him to think about things he hadn’t thought about before. She persuaded him to think differently about things, and for the first time he actually saw the positive side of his experiences. The process of writing this book had a positive influence on my parents in terms of self-reflection." Rusky and Rose’s resulting memoir ‘ Detours and Adaptations ‘ cleared up a number of long-held grudges, including one infamous incident involving the family pet. "Growing up, we had this dog that we loved," Sun Lee recalls. "We came home from school one day and the dog was gone. We always thought our parents must be cold-hearted to have given away our dog without an explanation. In this book, I learned that my father actually had a lot of affection for that dog, that it’s something that to this day he feels bad about. I thought of my father as this cold-hearted, uncaring, calculating person, but what’s revealed through this book is that he’s not, he’s very sensitive." At the same time, Sun Lee says, her father learned something about her. "We’ve never had a close relationship, and I wouldn’t say we do today, but I think he’s realized that I’m not this materialistic, selfish, Americanized girl, that there is a side of me that cares about our history and our culture. This has helped bring the family together." Speak to ANY personal historian for long enough, and he or she -- they are, in fact, mostly she’s -- will regale you with dozens of similar success stories. There can be pitfalls, however, in serving as a professional confidant. Very often, a personal historian will spend scores of hours with a client, picking through childhood memories, family relationships, employment histories, war stories, friendships, and love affairs, and not all the memories dredged up are pleasant. Indeed, sometimes things get downright ugly. "In my experience, life reflections develop at different stages," Axelson-Berry says. "Sometimes the initial attempts are characterized by motifs of old hurts and vendettas and unresolved arguments. The art of getting beyond these initial obstacles to a deeper reflection is part of the art of the personal historian." And then, of course, there’s the issue of how much ugly (but true) material to include in the finished book ‘ and how much to leave out. Marian Broder, owner of Memories Recorded, based in Longmeadow, Massachusetts, believes this may be the knottiest issue personal historians face. "Some say put everything in, let it all hang out," Broder says. "But these things are going to end up on someone’s coffee table. Sometimes people will have prison records, or they have had affairs. I find that clients will get so comfortable with me they’ll tell me anything. I have had to say, ‘Whoa! Are you sure you want your nieces and nephews knowing that this man came to your house at three in the morning’’" And every now and then, personal historians will find themselves in the position of writing a memoir for someone whose issues go beyond the usual family squabbles and marital woes. Personal historian Joella Werlin recalls a particularly awkward example: "I had a client who wanted to write a personal history. This is a woman who was a victim of incest very early on, since she was about three. Her story could have been an interesting exploration if it had been insightful, but she seemed preoccupied with sexual awakening; a lot of it seemed like fantasy. It had a tawdry, even nasty quality to it." In the end, Werlin did not write the woman’s memoir, an outcome she calls "a huge relief." When confronted with such severe emotional problems, personal historians will generally back away and refuse to write the book. "We uncover really painful stuff," says Broder. "So if people want to cry with me, that’s okay, I’ll cry with them. But you have to draw a line. If I feel a client is getting into trouble, I’ll refer them to a therapist or a social worker." When Broder started out, she did so armed with little more than a tape recorder and a note pad. Today, there is a growing realization that the field is a sight more complicated than that. Faced with an increasing number of ethical and practical concerns, many personal historians are calling for the establishment of professional industry standards. One of the more vocal proponents of such a move is Werlin. "We’re a very new profession, and most people don’t know what we do, let alone what to look for in a personal historian," she says. "There’s no academic degree for us, so the credibility of the profession is often called into question. Accreditation is the first step for personal historians to gain the respectability that I believe is necessary for every profession." Last year, Werlin drafted a "Proposal to Establish Qualifications and Procedures for Professional Membership in the Association of Personal Historians." It proposed such measures as the implementation of "core competencies" ("attention to detail and historical accuracy"; "ability to meet deadlines"; "command of English grammar, spelling"). Much to Werlin’s disappointment, the APH rejected the proposal out of hand, an act that sharply divided the organization. "There were very passionate feelings on either side of this issue," says the APH’s then-president Elizabeth Wright. "But I don’t think we’re going to change our views at the moment ‘ I don’t think we’re ready to do any kind of credentialing yet." Despite the current lack of professional accreditation, Axelson-Berry says that industry standards are fairly high, or at least, her standards are. "I’m constantly astonished by how great these books are," she says. "I’m so proud of them. These are real books, extremely well-done, sensitive, informative, well-produced books, and I’m proud of that. It’s a wonderful thing to work on something and have it go out in the world. It’s very satisfying." And yet the question remains: do such personal histories count as "real" books? Many would say no. "There is such a thing as telling a story, but art is something that has to transcend your own experiences," says local author Marcie Hersheman, who last year published a memoir titled Speak to Me (Beacon Press). "Writing a life doesn’t mean writing a chronology; it means touching on a mystery, something that you can’t grasp. Whether these [personal histories] are something that will touch the truth of life rather than the facts — well, I doubt it." Still, as some of these personal histories demonstrate, the simplest, most artless stories can reveal profound truths. "I bought a chair so that I could sit out near some particular trees," recalls Rusky Sun in his Detours and Adaptations. "The birds were singing and matched my whistle. I enjoyed that. My main purpose was to wait for [daughters] Lynda and Lucy to come home, but I never told them that. That’s not my personality.... I think that’s the main difference between men and women." And then there’s Steve Bernstein’s rather curmudgeonly father, quoted in the epilogue of There’s a Book in Here Somewhere: " ‘Did I like the book’ Did I like the book.’ He sighed and then remarked, with an air of certainty, ‘I would have picked different stories.’" Elsewhere in the memoir, Bernstein recalls an incident in which his older brother, Billy, got involved in a fender-bender: Our Uncle Dicky had always been a fantastic storyteller and practical joker. He heard about the incident and decided to have a little fun at Billy’s expense. Dicky called the house and asked me to put Billy on the phone but not to tell him who was calling. In a heavy Italian accent, Dicky started screaming something along the lines of, "You break-a my car, I break-a your face!"... Billy calmly said, "Sir, I am sure we can resolve this altercation." Then Dicky cut him off and snapped back, "Alteration’ A few months after the publication of the memoir, Bernstein’s brother was killed in the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. "I think [the book] means more now than it did before September 11," Bernstein says. "I’m glad I did this, because it’s a way to memorialize Billy." And that, insists Kitty Axelson-Berry, is what makes her business so rewarding. Personal histories, she explains, are not about the money or the fame, and they’re not simply an elaborate form of the talking cure. For Axelson-Berry, it’s all about what we leave behind. "Once we die," she says, "all that’s left are our stories." Our Letter to the Editor [The letter was accepted and almost ran, but we didn't confirm authorship in time. (Oops).] |
