I have been journaling in one form or another for almost sixty years. Each time I take one of my notebooks, dated by year, off the shelf, a smile crosses my face as I read and relive the story on the page. My first surviving journal, after many years of travel, is titled Mom’s Diary Deming, New Mexico, 1977. The first entry begins Summer 1977: “My neighbor insisted that we enter our children into the prince and princess beauty contest. Today’s entry says Kennesaw, Georgia 2019: “I wanted to watch my daughter’s tennis match, but she already left by the time I woke.” Today I use a five year journal. I write a little bit of something that happened each day of the year. I do the same consecutively for five years. Once in a while, I sit and type more detail When I am out and about, I dictate into my cell phone using Penzu. Why do I journal? I like to write about myself. That’s why I am a memoir writer. I think everyone’s life’s stories need telling.