During this pandemic, I have been reading a lot. This has resulted in a desire to grab the notebook sitting on my bookshelf from a “How to Write a Memoir” workshop I attended years ago. Now is the time!
Regardless of the book I read, the main character always has a screwed-up family: An abusive parent, a sister who suffered from addiction, a brother who died under mysterious circumstances, a long estrangement from the ‘moneyed’ side of the family. The author always is able to craft an amazing story about how this influenced their life in an ‘I-can’t-wait-to-see-what-happens’ way.
It always makes me feel good until I realize that maybe the reason I can’t write a book is that my family is too normal. Why couldn’t at least one of them be a major screw-up, sending the rest of us to therapy? Sometimes life just isn’t fair. Why did my parents stay married forever? Couldn’t there have been at least one good scandal? Maybe our last name should have been Boring instead of Fitzgerald.
Excuse me while this selfish youngest sister shakes herself back into reality. Maybe the fact that my parents were married forever, that all six children got married and are still married to their first spouses, and that everyone still talks to each other are things to celebrate. Perhaps we should start one of those Sunday morning televangelist programs where we get together and preach, grab our guitars, sing worship songs and flash a 1-800 number for donations. The only problem with that is none of us are musical and we all have different views on religion. I do think we could agree on the 1-800 number for donations.
There is a 13-year difference between the youngest and the oldest in my family. We have loud discussions that sometimes are never resolved, but no one walks away mad. There is no greater group of people to be around during a time of need. Whether you have a medical issue, need some help with your house or need some advice, they come through. Bragging is not something they do—I’m the exception. It sucked growing up with such nice people, even though they can give really mean retorts and could punch really hard as kids. One belief we have in common? If you work hard, you can do anything you want.
Shoot. I think that means I really don’t have a reason not to write a book. I can’t blame my family can I?
I hope this quarantine has allowed you to spend time with those you love. For those of you like me who suffer from a resting bitch face, masks hide it. You will need to learn the mean eye trick to prevent people from approaching. I may offer a class if this pandemic lasts much longer!