Rockie Lyons

After an academic and corporate career, I wrote a memoir about growing up in a family-owned, small diner in the Midwest. My parents were north stars of the community. Bob’s Cafe became a landmark where customers enjoyed my parents’ humor as much as the food. My mother was fondly known as the Pancake Lady because of her artistic flare in making Garfield and Mickey Mouse pancakes for customers who were no taller than four feet. My father loved chasing bad checks like they were a detective story waiting to be solved.

I began my memoir journey writing about working in my parents’ diner during the 1950s and 1960s. My parents taught me that customers don’t care if you are tired. You need to make the customers satisfied and happy with their food and service.

Then chaos came at us through gun violence in 1982.

When I started writing about my parents’ diner, I admit I struggled with words, reflections and feelings about what it was like to lose my sister in a violent and tragic manner. I told stories of how my parents could not talk about grief, loss or trauma. I found that I began to have a voice that had been silent for so many years. I wanted to talk about it, knowing that it often made people uncomfortable. So I started writing and looking for meaning in how my story could encourage the silent survivors of gun violence and tragedy to talk about it. I challenge each of you to think about grief and talk about what it means in your life. What does it mean for your circle of friends and family to share stories of joy and sorrow. I think sharing our suffering is a way to heal. I struggled with being vulnerable in telling my story, yet I found some strength and healing in sharing how my stoic family and myself survived over the last forty years.