The Rules about Anecdotes

So today we were traveling back from New Jersey, and as we were driving through the town where my mom grew up, she was like, "Now girls, do you see that house over there? Do you remember why it is important?" Great. Class is in session and quiz number 5341 has just been passed out.


Every single time we visit this area, my mom feels inspired to tell my sisters and me anecdotes from her childhood. And I don't just mean she tells us a handful of stories. Each visit produces an encyclopedia of her memories...because trust me, my mom is inspired by anything: a house, a tree, a clump of dirt...


My favorite part of these story sessions is when my mom thinks of something she has never told us about before. On these precious occasions, she always begins with, "Now you know that..." as if we all know the story already. Wow, let's just take it down a notch, Mom. None of us knew that little Jimmy threw up when he was 8 in that bush over there on the left side of the street. We were unaware of that fact until just now. I mean seriously, what does my mom think? That we all received prior education about Jimmy's gastrointestinal habits? Sorry...we must have forgotten to sign up for that course.



I think everyone has a mom like mine. She believes she's handing down valuable information that will somehow contribute to the legacy she's been dreaming about since she was a little girl. Right around the time she was sketching wedding gowns during English class and deciding what kind of flowers she was going to hold in her bouquet, she was planning all the things she wanted to pass along to her children someday...you know, the kids she was going to have when she became Mrs. Edward Masterson, the wife of the boy sitting in front of her at school whose name she carefully practiced signing in the margins of her notebook.


Moms are funny like that. They think we want to hear about every anecdote from their childhoods when, in fact, we would rather bang our heads against the window. They're true romantics at heart and they can't pass up the opportunity to reminisce about the glory days when they ruled the playgrounds and got free soda-pops from the cute boy behind the counter at the five-and-dime.


Moms everywhere are slowly destroying the sacredness of the anecdote. They don't mean to, but they are. You all know what I'm talking about. You're driving along and suddenly she points out the window at the side of the road exclaiming, "And that blade of grass over there is where I realized I forgot to brush my teeth on the morning of November 17th, back in the 3rd grade."


Well, maybe that's stretching it a little, but you get the point. Anecdotes are like the L-word...don't just throw them around or else they'll lose their significance.