Introducing: SOUVENIRS a Column by Keri Janton

Issue 1

While getting a breast exam, my doctor and I exchanged our grandmother’s best recipes. As I had my teeth sandblasted at the dentist’s office, my hygienist told me every detail of her son’s baseball win the night before. While sitting in the car rider line at my sons’ school, a woman I didn’t know knocked on my window and three minutes later we were crying and holding hands over shared grief.

My favorite conversations are the ones that skip over surface level. In my perfect world, instead of asking, “So, Carly, what do you do?” I would say, “Nice to meet you, Carly. Hey, so how do you think you’d adjust in prison? Would you fashion your toothbrush into a shiv, or would you use something else?” I’d also like to ask, “When you were a kid, did you prefer cartoons or “The Oprah Winfrey Show?” And if the answer is Oprah, you might be my new best friend.

I want to hear your labor and delivery story while we stand in the checkout line at HomeGoods (that should give us 30 minutes, easy). I may not know your first name, but I will be your armchair therapist at the nail salon when you want to discuss your daddy issues, and I will share mine so you don’t feel alone. Just know that while I’m listening, I’m also crafting the lede for the story I will write about you.

I love people, and I love the connections we make through our stories. Complimenting myself gives me the icks, so I’ll throw this out quickly, then we’ll move on: We all have gifts, right? I’ve decided mine are that I genuinely love people, and I find so much beauty and entertainment in what many find mundane. I soak up experiences, observations, and interactions with people – the funny ones, the sad ones, the annoying ones – and I write it all down. They are all souvenirs from this precious life, and I want to remember them. And now, after overthinking it for an extraordinarily long time, I want to share them.

Sharing can make me feel like I’m walking around inside out. Sharing makes me incredibly nervous and nauseated, but so does the thought of a wasted dream. I think I’ve got some relatable stuff here, so I’m going for it. After writing professionally for 20 years, I am now what I’ve dreamed of becoming: a columnist. Welcome to Souvenirs.

What a delight it would be to have you read along. I hope you will subscribe and share Souvenirs with friends when it lands in your inbox each week. There is also an option to become a paid subscriber, which includes a special spot in Heaven just for you and full access to all of my columns.

A little housekeeping before we begin: I want you to follow along, but remember, I am a writer, not an influencer. The code “Keri20” will not get you a discount anywhere. My words aren’t likely to help with your calorie deficit, and I won’t provide high protein recipes. I also won’t be sharing makeup tutorials, lest Estée Lauder would roll in her grave. I am, however, accepting any and all sponsorships. I will happily write a glowing column about your services or products for some cold hard cash.

What will you get out of Souvenirs? A break from reels and repetitive content, for one. I hope this column is something you’ll look forward to each week. I hope it feels nostalgic for columnists, like Erma Bombeck, who came before me, who turned everyday happenings into keepsakes. I hope it helps you feel more connected to the world around you, and, most of all, I hope it gives you a keener appreciation for the souvenirs from your precious life.