Memories like jealous children

I was just writing to a long lost friend and lover, who has found me through Facebook, of all the places and experiences I want to write about...and here it is in a rough form, taken from that email. I may revise this post as time goes on and will use it as a sort of outline for future writing:

My travels inspired by an innate need to eat up life as fast as I could, plus the added bonus of being my own rep, selling my hand crafted jewelry to galleries and at juried shows allowed me long periods of time in Minneapolis, Rochester(born and raised there), Gaylord on the flat desolate plains and many other places in Minnesota, Fargo, ND, the Badlands in South Dakota, Wyoming (the desert and the great rolling hills with their herds of free running antelope, the Detroit ghettos, NYC, Boston, Portland and Gloucester in Maine and the Maine coast..... Lakeland, Denver, Boulder, Vail, camped in the Rockies at Aspen, all in Colorado....Pittsburgh, Rochester and Ithaca, NY, Chicago, St. Louise, New Orleans French Quarter and the gulf coast, Peoria....Key West, Sanibel Island, Orlando, and so many other fun places in Florida, like the Everglades.....lived outside of River Falls, Wisc on a farm with no phone, heating with only the wood we hand cut and chopped, Sarasota and extreme Miami (hanging in the glamorous city, Coconut Grove, Little Cuba, and the black ghetto), Ptown and Wellfleet on Cape Cod (when the Aids Epidemic was just starting and had no name yet), Northampton, Ma. (where I am now), Fayetteville, NC and on a commune in Northern Mn. and in bizarre Bemidgi, hung with the Kingbird family on the Red Lake Indian Reservation and shared Powwow drum times with them while living there, visited family on the Cherokee Res in NC ....so many artists and intense folks living full Bohemian, quirky lives in many of those places, so rich and amazing. Funny how one runs into old weird friends who travel between some of those towns/cities, enclaves of rapid moving thoughts and artists. My kids are steeped in it...through me and/or on their own (Ari has traveled overseas extensively), being exposed to all kinds of people and thoughts from all over the world, though I haven't been out of the states. A friend once told me that I have covered more ground than most Europeans do in a lifetime..but I still hope to travel over seas! I have so much to write about...A life unwritten is lost and unshared. I know how I treasure books. I always am reading and my life is so much the richer for experiencing what others have been though and their thoughts on it all...if I keep writing just maybe I can cover most of it. Funny thing though, as one writes, more memories come to mind, bubbling to the surface, waiting to be acknowledged and attended to, like jealous children. "Do me now!" "No, me!" How does one work them all in?