Underneath It All

I've been working on a different kind of memoir. It's about nakedness, lingerie, and the women in the family. Haven't yet decided which chapter goes first. So, UNDERNEATH IT ALL might start -

My grandmother loved to undress. First, the shoes – low-heeled Ferragamos, which she stepped out of in front of her open closet door. Then the cashmere twin-set, unbuttoned and hung on padded hangers. Finally, the skirt, linen or wool depending on the season, unzipped and clipped into a wooden skirt hanger. “Ah,” she’d sigh and take a sip of vermouth-and-soda mixed in a short glass with a twist of lemon. After that, she padded around in her underwear for a bit whistling tuneful unidentifiable melodies...

Or it might start -

We realized that my mother had it in for the neighbors when she chopped down their pine tree. It was just an immature sapling sprouting in the little grove that separated our yard from theirs, but they were upset. In fact, they rarely spoke to us again, which may have been my mother’s intention. I say ‘may’ because, for a person with a saw in her hand, she professed a remarkable degree of innocence. She appeared in the kitchen with fibrous shreds still clinging to the saw’s shiny, sharp teeth and announced in a bemused tone, “I think I just cut down the Sedgwick's tree.” She set her weapon on the table and bent to pick up sawdust that fell onto the floor...

Either way, I'll let you know more as work progresses.