Twenty five years ago, Whitney Houston was only 23 when she recorded “The Greatest Love of All,” a song that hasn’t left my head since hearing of her death last weekend. I was nine years older, age 32, when I remember how it empowered me and made me believe that yes, the only real love is inside. Today, I did a little research to learn the lyrics’ history:

“The Greatest Love of All” was written by Michael Masser and Linda Creed and recorded by George Benson for the 1977 Muhammad Ali biopic, “The Greatest.” Creed wrote in the midst of a struggle with breast cancer words describing her feelings about coping with challenges, being strong, and passing courage on to children to carry with them into their adult lives. She succumbed to the disease in April 1986 at the age of 36. At the time, her song was an international hit by Whitney Houston. The partial lyrics are as follows:

I decided long ago never to walk in anyone’s shadows. If I fail, if I succeed, at least I’ll live as I believe. No matter what they take from me, they can’t take away my dignity. Because the greatest love of all is happening to me. I found the greatest love of all inside of me.

We can only leave children a legacy of inner strength if we exhibit it ourselves through behavior and expressions like writing. The tragic truth is that Whitney’s daughter, just like me, lost her mother at age 18.  Whatever Whitney tried to teach her may have an impact, but sadly, her recent examples are not ones that any daughter should emulate.  In this case, we only can hope that Bobbi Christina Brown sees in her mother’s short life why self love, not that which comes from lovers, fans or quick fixes, really is the greatest love of all.

Janette Quinn

I’m a little humbled preparing today to address Catholic Charities volunteers tomorrow in Kankakee.  Each is 60 or over and involved in the Senior Companions program which connects them for regular visits with home-bound adults.  Last year, I was invited to speak in Joliet and Morris, the other two offices through which the program is available.  So I know the caliber of people I’m about to meet.  They are incredible.

Volunteers who visit the home-bound generally have lost someone dear to them, are single and looking for company and something to do, are newly retired or just love to help people and families.  They are ideal facilitators for capturing life stories, and it’s my mission to teach them how.  What I’ll say is relevant for anyone who is looking for ways to talk with loved ones about their lives.

First, when a conversation goes beyond small talk, it’s wise to get the family’s permission, because the last thing a volunteer wants to do is upset the potential story-teller or appear not to be bound by confidentiality.  The purpose of the project needs to be clear:  To honor the life of the visited and to share back with family, when appropriate, the stories that are captured.

Next, volunteers should ask the senior friend if he or she would like to share some stories that changed their lives, for better or worse.  This is an easy segue into meaningful memories that may not easily be discussed in families’ casual conversations.

Finally, the volunteer should offer to take notes or to record the voice of the narrator for later transcription.  The narrator will be the ultimate editor, because the notes or transcription can be read back and built upon in subsequent visits.  All that’s needed are basic computer skills in order to commit the words to paper so that family members can learn much more than they ever knew or remembered.

Some excellent starter questions are,

Tell me what it was like to be a child growing up in _________.  The blank can be filled in with a place such as Chicago or a condition or circumstance, such as poverty.

What did you think at age 20 that you would accomplish in your life, and what actually happened?  …What made the difference?  

How do you feel about your life now? … Despite your health challenges, what would you still like to do?

What’s the most important lesson you have learned; one that helped you get through the most difficult times in your life? 

Do you have any favorite sayings, songs or prayers?… How about movies or plays that really made a difference in how you looked at life?

The most important characteristics of a listener are curiosity and empathy.  A list of questions is not nearly as important as the ability to really hear answers and follow up with more specific ones about the same subject. Probing further not only flatters a speaker, but it demonstrates the true compassion and respect that are the key to opening a person’s mind, heart and memories.

“Living stories” are all we have when our faculties begin to fade.  It’s a joy and a true gift when a visitor is ready to hear them, and even better if he or she is willing to pass them on.  Whether the person is a Catholic Charities volunteer or a relative, caring communication accomplishes the mission.

Janette Quinn

Mother, only 54 in June of 1972, looked older.  She was usually sitting at the kitchen table, smoking; in a living room chair, reading a paperback novel; or lying on her bed, napping.  The house seemed a little dustier and the laundry was piling up.

“What’s wrong, Mother?” I often asked, aware that she wasn’t up for hearing about any of the usual problems of an 18-year- old.

“Oh, nothing, I’m just tired and can’t seem to find any energy,” she’d say.  Finally, she went to our doctor, who said she had a touch of pneumonia in her lung.

Careful to be quiet and gentle around her, hoping she’d recover, I noticed she only got worse.  When she went for a recheck six months later, she was rushed to a major medical center in Chicago for surgery.  Her pneumonia was actually lung cancer that had grown from golf ball to tennis ball size. Later, we learned that its origin was her ovaries.

Dad wasn’t doing well, either.  At 59, he was working as foreman on a plumbing construction project.  A pain in his hip became bad enough to make walking difficult, and in February he visited the doctor, who did a biopsy.  The finding was colon cancer that had metastasized and entered his pelvis.

Just six months later, they were both in the same hospital in rooms three doors apart.  Having made no recovery progress despite aggressive chemotherapy, they weren’t eating at all or talking much above a few whispers.  I kept working and going to college, sure that it’s what they’d have wanted. Kevin, then 22, was also working and struggling with his feelings.  Our little sister, Arla, 16, was still in high school.

We were all called to the hospital on September 17, 1973, and the doctor told us the news.  As I recall, my oldest brother, Mike, then 32, was at my dad’s bedside and managed to hear his last request:  “Take care of the girls.” He then rushed to Mother’s side and witnessed her departure seven minutes later.

Today, the pain is still palpable.  Shock…feelings of abandonment… fear of a future with no parental support or advice.  If only they had written their stories.  If only I had asked!  If only I knew what I’d want to know.

Janette Quinn

DWTS is consistently in television’s top 10 shows. Why? I believe it is because its contestants are in a struggle for their lives. The new dancers push themselves to their mental, emotional and physical limits so that they can tell the story of their success against odds. They compete not only with each other, but also with the demons inside that ask, “Who do you think you are? You’ve never been a dancer!”

The outcomes of these grueling efforts are the beautiful pictures we see on television: the glitzy and glorious ballroom; adoring, cheering fans; costumes that accentuate all their best features and incredible moves that often look easy in performance. Beneath the presentations are feelings familiar to us all: fatigue, insecurity and fears of failure. Yet, they press on.

DWTS mirrors our lives. We take on the challenges of our days and years. We are never guaranteed awards. We usually strive, despite inner questions, to present our best effort.

Just as we enjoy watching DWTS, others will enjoy hearing of our lives’ events and how we rose above discouragement, doubt and despair to survive. Ours is the story everyone lives each day, but our reactions and approach make it intensely interesting to others. We shine like stars for those who follow us when we admit to weaknesses and foibles, and then tell how we overcame them to be and feel better.

Few of us will ever win a mirror ball trophy, but each of us reaches for the stars when we rise above our daily lives to celebrate and share the stories of our journey.

People often wonder where they’d start to create a life story. Many worry that they don’t remember enough. Some believe their lives have been so inconsequential that they have nothing worth writing. Both views are flawed, and for good reasons!

Our memories are spotty at best, and the older we get, the less we seem to recall—in some areas. We may forget the name of our second grade teacher, but never the name of the sixth grade one that terrorized us! Emotions strongly influence which events we retain, and they are usually our life’s highlights—the elements of a good story.

Our self-esteem could use some brushing up, because whatever has happened in our lives would be fascinating to many people in the retelling. Because we’ve lived the life, it may be less interesting or compelling to us. We already know the story, but it will be an inspiration to someone else.

So with two big reasons to hesitate set aside, how will you begin a life story? The following checklist may help you get started. I use it with my clients along with lots of additional questions and active listening—great incentives to self revelation!

Life Story Checklist:

Birth: Where and when were your parents born, and from where do your ancestors hail? When and where did you come into the world, and in what birth order compared to siblings, if any? This information makes a relevant, riveting start to your tale.

Settings: List the places where you spent most or most important times of your life.

Talents: What do you have or do that shines in comparison to others?

Opportunities: What or who gave you chances to shine?

Reactions and Relationships: What did you do with those chances? Who became important in your life, and why?

Yield: What have you learned and gained from your life’s experiences, both in material and in social value?

By making notes in each of these areas, you will be well on the way to a meaningful life story, not only as an affirmation for yourself, but as a gift to those you love. If alone or with support you continue to write about each of these subjects in some detail, your story will be rich with wisdom and riveting to many others. You can’t help but continue such an important process once it’s begun!

Dorothy was 92 when together, we wrote her story in September-October 2009. She wondered why and how long she would stay alive, having watched so many of her family and friends pass on. She thought she’d like to witness her first great grandchild walk, but knew the decision was in God’s hands. Dorothy passed away the following October, and I’m quite sure Lucy had walked by then.

When I sent both Dorothy and her son, who had introduced us, a Christmas card in 2010, he responded:

“We will always remember that you took the time to let Mom know you cared while she was still vital. As you know, she had a life of no regrets. Her story was on the podium next to her casket. She had already shown it to every close friend and her minister, who used many excerpts in his eulogy.”

Dorothy grew up in Pilsen and stayed near Chicago for her entire life. She never drove a car, but married and worked outside the home for 47 years. A marvelous baker and loyal friend, at 92 she told me there was always someone who needed help, and because of that, she was never lonely. Her life is a lesson for those who knew her and for me, who had the privilege of passing it along.

This weekend, we will celebrate my friend’s, Diana’s, birthday. It seems like only yesterday that we toasted Beth’s, then Karen’s, and before that, mine. Birthdays come more often as we get older, don’t they—or do they just seem to?

Birthdays are life markers reminding us that years go by. If we are lucky, many months and decades stretch before us to be enjoyed. If not, at least we take one day to recognize our life’s value and the relationships we treasure.

Last week, I had a hysterectomy. Thanks to the latest surgical procedures, my pain is minimal and my recovery will be swift. That’s the physical story–the fact.

The mental/emotional elements are different. Many women wistfully regard this procedure as a loss of youth and the ability to bear children. Some parts that make me a woman have been taken away, and hormonal changes may be in progress.

Life is like this. We are born with God-given physical and mental capacities and grow them over the years only to pass them on to another generation, our younger counterparts in humanity. The uplifting fact is that I have treasures they can only aspire to create. This body and the parts that have been taken produced two intelligent, healthy children who are now beginning adult lives of their own.

And so, my legacy to them is not to mourn my losses of parts, youth or time remaining in my life, but to celebrate each day and each memory as an accomplishment. No one can take away our experience and our hard-won and well-developed common sense. While we’d like them to, no one can take away our painful challenges and heartaches, either.

Our life’s lessons remain with us, and can stay on earth even after we expire. They have the power to educate and encourage our sons, daughters and all who follow them. If we consider our bodies and lives as vehicles for reproduction, growth and wisdom across generations, then committing words to paper is the method by which we document their passage.