Family: The Cheer(-y) of Relativity

This weekend I got a birthday card and a phone call from two of my siblings, both pleasant surprises since it's been only recently that we've had more consistent conversations with one another (consistent, meaning, regular time intervals between communication, not in the syntax and semantic sense). My sister explained to me that she had made it about halfway through my book, but has had to pause for a bit to take a breather, that the memories being brought up for her have been a challenge. My brother said essentially the same thing, though he hadn't even started the book yet. His relucatance has come from questions asked by his girlfriend and her mother, both of whom have read the book. He intends to read it and is happy that it's been written and is out there, but it's still a struggle. He really wants to talk more and has promised to call back later in the week. I must admit that there is an element of surprise on my part; I'm clearly ignorant in thinking that with all the baggage we all have from childhood, that there would have been no way NOT to have processed it over the years, as I have done. I guess I'd assumed that they'd have dealt with it, but apparently not. Looking at the struggles they have even today, it makes sense, I suppose. The toxicity of denial is...well, undeniable.

My neighbor had his family in town to visit for a long weekend and was pretty much out of commission the whole time. I think it might have been a stressful time for him since a brief phone call I made to him was exactly that--brief. I was talking to my partner and we were comparing the idea of family living nearby versus far away (my family vs. his family). I think that when family lives nearby it's easy to take one another for granted. Visits are sparse, short but communication is fairly frequent. When your family is far away, visits are sparse, long (when they happen) and communication is less frequent. I think that while having family come to visit is more valued ("It's been TOO long since we've seen each other!"), it can be overly stressful, since there is no getting away anytime soon. Maybe it's just me, but while I absolutely LOVE my family and enjoy the visits we have, I wonder what condition we'd all be in if we forced ourselves to stay in the same place for five days straight. Would this cluster of non or light drinkers, who have alcoholic DNA woven within us like a blanket, come out the other side with a bottle of Thunderbird wine in each hand, lurking outside the front doors of The Rainbow Lounge, tapping on the glass for the bartender to please open five minutes early? I wonder.

My Literary Rock Star Moment

This last Friday, I had the geat honor of hearing and meeting one of my longtime literary role models, Tobias Wolff (pictured with yours truly). I don't want to get all Annie Wilkes ("Misery") about it, so I won't gush. But the reading was wonderful and Mr. Wolff's graciousness and humility was a treat. 20 years of reading his work and to have him remember having read about my own book, showing a geniune interest and willingness to read it, was more than I ever would have imagined in my wildest dreams. I hadn't yet begun reading his new collection--partly because I was finishing Mary Roach's new book, partly because I was holding out since the longer I stretch the reading experience, the longer I'll have it to read--but on the ferry ride home that night, I cracked it open and had to struggle to put it down as we reached the dock.

I also had my final reading (for now) of my own book, "The Lyncher in Me" at our local bookstore here on Bainbridge Island. A great crowd, about 50 or so, including some family members. I admired that they were there, as I know it wasn't a comfortable spot to be in, knowing that all of these strangers around them were privvy to the most intimate of details of our family. The support was wonderful, though, and the feedback was validating. As great as it was, though, there's a certain level of relief to be done for awhile.

Ah, the Great Northwest

After a week in Minnesota, it was a relief to touch down in Seattle Sunday evening. This is no slight to Minnesota--the people I met there, those folks who shepherded me from place to place, the scenery and the food--were all wonderful. Old friends (and new ones) helped make me feel like their home was my home and I could feel the slightest sense of roots finding their ways down. Not in a sense of Minnesota being a home to me in any way, but a place that I can imagine returning and, in one way or another, feeling welcome.

The pictures above are from a couple moments along my tour. The spot at the microphone was during my interview at MPR, in the American Public Media building. What an amazing place. It was a great interview and I felt pretty on top of things, even though in the picture I look like I've had one pause too many with the traveling Pepsi can (some of you may not be able to make heads or tails of that reference, but my memories of high school Saturday nights at Harborview Park Beach brings the image to mind). I was in complete possession of my faculties; my eyes were just a little slow on the take.

The other picture is that of me and Don Claret, the grandson of Elmer Jackson's cousin. He came to two of my readings, and we were able to have dinner together both times. What a great guy. Who'd have thought we'd have become good friends? Full circle.

Blech!

These mushrooms were growing outside my classroom some weeks ago and when I saw them, I thought they looked so "fairy talish" that I had to snap a photo of them. A friend later told me that if I'd taken bite out of one, I'd have lived my own fairy tale for a couple hours. As if.

I'm mired in such a nasty cold right now, I have zero energy. I forced myself to go to the gym the other day and spent more time in the sauna than on the weights, which was probably best. Skipped yesterday and will try and get in today, even though I feel like my head is underwater. I annouced to my students that they should keep anti-bacterialized and there was a near stampede to the germ-killing-gel dispenser on the wall. I only wish I could just go home and sleep, but Shayne has entered a booth in the Home and Garden show (locally); we need to set it up tonight and staff it tomorrow. So, I have to pretend to know all about the plants that he's selling and smile and gladhand everyone, which is fine because I assume I'll know some folks.

The office assistant here at school told me she just finished my book last night, then looked at me in a wistful, sympathetic way. She said she loved the book, thought was timely and important and only when I explained to her that I was "okay", that I have come through all those stories just fine, did she exhale. It's hard to explain to people. When I write about the angst in those chapters, the emotions and reactions are real, but they are through the eyes of my childhood self (or what I remember I was feeling at that time). I have the safety of looking back through adult eyes now, and the fact that I know I could lay out flat the men who hurt me in my youth (both if I met them today and if I were to magically transport my adult self to 1980--wouldn't that be great?) helps immensely. Feels safe.

Jumbalaya Amid Autographs

This past Saturday I had my very first reading for my book, "The Lyncher in Me" at Elliott Bay Book Company in Pioneer Square. I used to spend entire afternoons browsing the shelves of Elliott Bay, back in the days when I lived in the city. Even before that time, I would trek from the suburbs, downtown to spend the day shopping and sightseeing and would inevitably end up there. What a wonderful bookstore. Never in all my life would I ever have imagined that I'd be there talking about a book of my own.

There was a great turnout, helped in part by a terrific article in the Seattle Times the day before, I'm sure. For the most part, though, I benefitted from a great many friends (and family) who gave me their time and attention. Incredible. It didn't really hit me until afterward just how cool that was, that people would give up their Saturday night to come and hear me read from a book that I sometimes feel they've heard about ad nauseum for so long. True friends.

A moment of potential embarassment for my mother--when I was reading a passage and had forgotten a very sensitive section about her (a funny one, I think) that I stopped me so quickly when I got to it you could practically hear tire screechings. I juggled through it, everyone got a big laugh (sympathetic, I think) and she managed to see the humor in it, too, however mortified she was.

I got wind of an LA Times review that is supposedly coming out this week. My stomach is in knots again. The Star Tribune of Minneapolis gave a very complimentary review in advance of my tour and, again, I was so humbled to read what a stranger thought of the book and, I guess, my life.

Everyone's a critic

Wow. This past weekend, I got the first two reviews of my book, "The Lyncher in Me." What a strange experience, to read what complete, unbiased critics think of one's work. I have to keep in mind that these reviewers read a ton of books, they don't have to write a full article on my book, and the fact that they chose to--and had so many complimentary things to say ("hauntingly beautiful", "riveting", "unflinching") is quite amazing. Even those few areas in which one writer was more critical were okay. It took me some time to be settled with it, but I understand it's one person's opinion, and one person might value what another person finds unnecessary. It's good. Really! And the great thing is, the review is all over the country, so I can't argue with that.

Back on the homefront: We're mired in a kitchen remodel, in limbo. Our carpenter was gone for a week on vacation, leaving us with a sink and a stove and not much else. I keep thinking back to an older "Amazing Race" episode in which the contestants were to put together a desk from Ikea. After a dozen cabinets, I could do it blindfolded, drunk on a shrimp boat during a hurricane.

A Swirling Mass of Activity

Sounds more interesting than it really is. If I was in the midst of anything swirling, I'm not sure whether I'd swat at it or crouch to the ground, close my eyes, and wait for it all to be over.

This last week was that kind of storm. Two separate school activities (concerts), piano lessons, an evening meeting for each parent and school conferences. This was all between Tuesday and Thursday. Friday was a church teen overnight (with the teen sex ed program). Yes, it always sounds way more salacious than it is--the teen sex ed group is having a co-ed overnight! Is it like that final jumping out of the plane after hours of rolling on the grass, practicing pulling the ripcord and hoping that the parachute opens? No, but it is a great program. My favorite story? The one in which the teacher demonstrates use of a condom by rolling it over the hose attachement of a vacuum cleaner. I felt compelled to clarify to my son that he need not aspire to such garganutan proportions, lest be be sorely disappointed.

The weekend concluded with my partner and the kids at a dinner party while I volunteered for the local schools foundation wine auction. A great time and always a wonderful reminder of how lucky I am to work with a community that supports its public education so wholeheartedly.

I talked with my editor today and she was excited to tell me that the "official" copies of my book, "The Lyncher in Me", are being released today. I'll be getting them soon. The public must still wait until March 15th, but I'll have a few to show off before then. She says it's stunning, a combination of glossy and matte finish that really brings out the artwork nicely. Apparently, the book received a lot of attention at a recent trade show she attended. I can feel the storm kicking up again...

A Hazy Shade of Winter

I have to say that the death of Heath Ledger has really thrown me. Certainly it has a lot to do with the whole "Brokeback Mountain" connection; when you're moved not only by a film's characters that seem so real, seem to resonate so clearly, it's easy to be tricked into imagining that you know the person. Also, I know that there's a level of respect given to an actor willing to step up and portray a "risky" role, knowing the richness and honesty is what's most important. Judging from the outpouring from fans and colleagues, it seems that others felt the same. He'll truly be missed.

I had my first "review" of my book appear in a local newspaper the other day. It was wonderful to read kudos, to have a positive acknowledement of the hard work I put into it. At the same time, the article did include some inaccuracies, some benign, others a bit more important. There's not much to do about it now. For anyone who's read it: I teach 4th grade, not 3rd. There has been no definitive explanation for why the rape accusations were made by Irene Tusken and Jimmie Sullivan (only speculation) and, while my family was certainly messed up in a lot of ways, the one thing I know they did right for me was to instill a sense of tolerance of differences--I make that point unequivocally in the book. That being said, it was a flattering article that I hope will peak interest to read more. www.thelyncherinme.com is the place to do that...

A Surreal Thing

Seeing my book on bookseller sites is something completely unreal to me. The whole process has been something unusual: working through revisions, having complete strangers read the intimate details of my life, hearing praise for the writing that over which I labored so much. And then, to see both the cover of my book, along with my name, for sale is both a dream and an unsettling...something (I know that "nightmare" is the opposite of "dream", but I wouldn't classify it as something so negative. Whatever is in between, I suppose). The next couple months will really be the test. I got a phone call from a reporter with our local paper and I imagine there will be more of the same. My publicist is working on the book tour, which will happen in early April and I know some reviews are around the corner. I think I'm prepared for it, but then who knows?

I've been able to touch base with a couple family members and friends from many years back who have gotten wind of the book. It's really been great, getting advance support and understanding from those who I feared might be put off by my stories. It's also been great to hear of their own memories--of my family, of me...of moments that I'd completly forgotten or had been unaware of. Life continues to surprise.