Following are some exchanges between me and my brother and me and my mother that date back several years. Welcome to the family! :-)
Subj: (no subject)
Date: 7/10/00 10:32:10 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From: TabbyGrad
To: DeBug40
Mom,
My friend Kristina, who's moving to Boston on Thursday and is also a writer, gave me a book titled Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. It's an instruction book on writing and life. I opened it up yesterday while laying by the pool. An hour later, I was writing like a fiend, recalling our trips out West and the calamities we encountered along the way. I haven't even reached the tip of the iceberg, but I have a long, varied list of things I'll eventually devote to paper. It was nice to get some thoughts out that might someday be read (God willing) by someone else.
I got to thinking about why on earth I'm a writer. Some may say I inherited it, and it certainly seems that way. Between James Street, Papa and you, it was basically imprinted on me from birth. But writers have more than genetics to thank for their ability. After thinking on it long and hard, I'm convinced that writing is more than stringing words together into eloquent, well-crafted phrases and paragraphs. It's a way of seeing the world, and that, I believe, has little to do with chromosome strands and more to do with the way we were taught to see the world when we were kids.
Here's what I wrote yesterday in an explosion of "creative" energy:
"My mom is a spectacular writer. Her flair for description is magical, sincere and exceedingly affectionate. She falls in love with the people and places she describes and her affinity for them is contagious. She had her nose in books from the time she was conceived, I believe, and books, along with nature, were her refuge, her escape, and her singular passion. She'd weave stories of her idyllic childhood in Hattiesburg, Mississippi with such reverence and detail you'd think you were there with her, or you wished you had been."
Following this vein of "nurture versus nature," I mused over why it took me until I was 28 to give in to the notion that this was my destiny and that trying other things, like nursing or hotel management, was downright futile. And I came to the conclusion that you and I have something else in common. We listened to others.
I remember when your professor told you and your classmates that an English degree was a dead end. I always got the impression that Dad saw your talent (and mine) as more of a hobby than a practical career choice. And I listened to David Dick, head of the School of Journalism, when he told me I should major in broadcasting because my goals were too unformed for his prestigious program. All I can say is that I hope a day will come when I can send him a copy of my first novel with a personal note inside that says, "looked what you missed out on, buddy."
The way I saw the world as a child, as a teenager, and as an adult has everything to do with the way you and Dad saw it. Dad saw it as a place where work matters, where taking the safe route was noble, predictable and secure. That philosophy served me well and probably went a long way in making me a semi-responsible, security-conscious, industrious person from an early age. That penchant for pragmatism, however, combined with a less-than-stable state of mind while I was growing up, made Dad a high-strung, high-anxiety person who, as I've said before, "equates losing a hoe with nuclear holocaust."
And then there was you, whose personality, I am convinced, is Dad's mirror opposite. Aside from seeing your family in danger or pain, nothing ever ruffles you. When we were rolling that godforsaken green Ford Econoline van down the hill to Raton, New Mexico for the 10th time, you laughed at the absolute absurdity of the situation. What great fodder for a writer! And I'm the lucky, lucky beneficiary.
I'm convinced that most people would have written off my experience with Lizard Head, the ill-tempered used car salesman in Charleston, as a bad customer service experience and forgotten about it all together. But I chose to tell people about it, and they get the biggest kick out of it. I'm sure I'll write of my "bright shining moment" in Aspen when I mooned the entire hotel pool too. Remember how Sabrina laughed until she couldn't breathe when I told her about it? My friends can't believe all the strange and curious tales I weave about my experiences. But I'm convinced that they have just as many colorful stories to tell: they just got caught up in the frustration of the moment, as Dad does, and don't see them as opportunities.
I just thought you'd want to know this. All this upheaval with David, Mike, John, Dad, and me in our personal lives has given me pause to think about how grateful I am for this twisted, quirky, eccentric cast of characters who have appeared in my life over the years. Without them, I wouldn't have a thing to write about; without Dad, I wouldn't have the practicality to make them useful; and without you, I wouldn't have the eyes to see them.
Happy belated Mother's Day!
Tabitha
Subj: Re: (no subject)
Date: 7/11/00 11:52:51 AM Eastern Daylight Time
From: DeBug40
To: TabbyGrad
What a wonderful letter, and what a great attitude! That will carry you far in writing. This letter is a great piece of writing and a joy to me to read. One of the letters I wrote to my folks was in their file cabinet in a manilla envelope labeled in my dad's handwriting, "A Treasure from Diane." Well, this one is my "Treasure from Tabitha," and I will always cherish it. Thank you so much for sharing it with me. You don't know how much better it made me feel about my own life.
I love you,
Mom
Subj: This'll take a while....
Date: 7/9/00 12:35:44 AM Eastern Daylight Time
From: TabbyGrad
To: daccad36@hotmail.com
David,
I don't know how to respond to your last post except to say again that I'm disturbed by it. While your observations are no doubt interesting and revealing, I find myself thinking more about you than the content of what you wrote. As I said before, you and I have spent a lot of time dissecting Mom, Dad, Charissa, Mikey, etc., but maybe you need to think very carefully about your own motivations rather than questioning others'. I've been doing a lot of this self-questioning myself. I may say things you won't like, David, and I won't be so arrogant to assume I have all the answers, nor do I claim to be blameless. This is a great way for me to ferret out my own weaknesses and insecurities. I hope you won't freeze me out after reading it. These are merely my observations and opinions. If you're not interested in reading them, best to close this now.
I don't think you realize how arrogant you come across. After reading other e-mails you sent me, I'm starting to think that you consider your "intellectual superiority" as much a tool for manipulation as you claim others' "benevolence" is. I see you making sport out of outwitting your bosses, the secretaries you wooed, Mom with your story of emotional problems, etc. Are you "testing" me as well, waiting to "prove some theory" you have about me?
What screams out at me is how overly concerned you may be with the way others see you (your comments on how women swoon over you, how you were Charissa's hero, how people thought you're psychic and fascinating, etc.). Your quest to be mysterious, intriguing, worldly, intellectually "ahead of everyone else" and insightful might be a way to avoid exploring who you REALLY are, David, because you're so terribly afraid of being "average" or "ordinary." Once you face that fear and see the superficiality of the things you've chosen to define you, transcending them FOR REAL becomes FAR more difficult than it is now. Believe me, I fight this myself more than I care to admit.
You certainly have every right to your opinions about our family's problems, but have you considered that casting Mom as the singular force of destruction in this family may be exonerating yourself, me, Dad, Charissa and even John of any responsibility for our OWN lives and actions? I know because I've done it myself. And I suspect you'll come to regret the barbs you've thrown her way, regardless of how on-target you may or may not have been. Is YOUR motivation "benevolence?"
I don't think good intentions are what has motivated either one of us in our never-ending whining over our family situation. For instance, maybe your true, albeit subconscious, purpose for trying to empower Charissa has more to do with being her "hero" (your words) than trying to make her life better. Being a hero is easy. Being David (or Tabitha, for that matter) is difficult and frightening. And do you think that maybe your diatribe to Mom is more an exercise in self-indulgence than trying to provide your unique brand of "tough love?" Was there really ANY "love" in what you sent Mom? Or was it all about you -- your need to be the Prophet of Truth and the only one insightful enough to see it? Was the worst thing that could have happened was not getting a reaction from her?
Mom said your kidney stones treatment was a story conjured to cover up the fact that you were seeing a counselor for your "manic depressive-ish condition." But you told me the condition was partly a cover-up to assess Mom. If that's the case, why DID you borrow $800 from them? It's not my business to know, but it's worth asking yourself. I certainly don't think that money itself has that much bearing on relationships, but what it represents does: freedom if you're the one earning it, dependence and a nagging sense of failure if you're the one receiving it from someone else. According to Mom, you often call her collect. She hides the phone bills from Dad; more to protect you from Dad's judgment than herself. Is that $800 only a tip of the iceberg when it comes to Mom and Dad's "economic outpatient care" you're receiving from them? Again, that's none of my business. I've received an occasional loan from them; they spotted me a couple hundred so I could take a long-awaited trip to NYC last year, for instance. But I suspect that you fibbed about the $800 (and maybe other loans) because you're embarrassed of not being the huge financial success you told everyone, especially Dad, that you'd be. You, like me, are still trying to make them proud of us, which is a big reason why I got so upset last week.
It may be an "ordinary, average" affliction that makes you just like everyone else, but it's definitely one worth exploring.
I'll admit, it makes me wonder about the whole James Bond-esque drama surrounding the law firm job and the seemingly unfair circumstances under which you lost your headhunting job. Is that scenario yet another smokescreen you've conjured to either "test" me in some way or to hide the fact that you may have contributed to the bad outcomes of these jobs, and again you're embarrassed? How many times did Charissa weave such tales to rationalize being fired, saying someone was out to get her and "set her up" to make it look like she was stealing, for instance? All to spare herself Dad's judgment. I can't blame her. While you may have dealt with some vindictive, jealous or scheming characters, surely you've explored your own behaviors that exacerbated the problem and led to two consecutive ugly situations. The common denominator, seems to me, is you, is it not?
Preoccupying ourselves with the dysfunctions of our family is taking valuable time away from living our own lives and becoming people who can enrich the lives of others, including our family. Such a pasttime is as much a denial of responsibility for our lives as Mom's.
Whatever "action" you're planning to take as a result of your newfound assessment of Mom, I suggest you think long and hard at what you're hoping to get out of it. You may wind up alienating the people you rely on more than you care to admit. Like it or not, you of all people should be grateful for all your parents do for you. If you aren't, or if you resent it, stop accepting their help. Mom tried her best to protect you from the ridicule of everyone, including your own father, and although her motivations may have been misguided, naive, or, according to you, diabolical, one thing remains clear: she is your mother, she loves you, she has EARNED your respect and gratitude, and she deserves better than to be the scapegoat of her kids' unresolved personal issues. I'm neither attacking nor defending her quality as a parent -- I won't go there with you anymore because I think it's terribly unhealthy and counterproductive to do so. What matters is what you choose to do with your own life. Do you want to be financially bound to Mom and Dad forever, for instance? Sounds to me that you have bigger fish to fry than trying to ride in on a white horse and be this family's hero, particularly when you're 12 time zones away. Be your own hero.
I don't recall an e-mail from you about Mom being "big nurse," but I probably lost it when I switched computers. I certainly didn't forward it to Mom. I haven't forwarded anything you've sent me. But, from your last post, you said you'd understand if I did, and that it was the reason you forwarded mine. I didn't know about this. What e-mail of mine did you forward? Who gave you permission to do such a thing? It certainly wasn't me, which is the only permission that counts. In the same vein, don't forward me Mom's assessment of my so-called jealousy because I figure if she wanted me to know, she'd tell me.
As far as Dad goes, I suggest you call him at work if you want to reach him privately. His number is 606-281-4912 and he can be paged. You won't be able to call collect, but if I may be blunt here, if you feel Dad's worth it, which you seem to think, you'll spare the five bucks or so and call him yourself. I don't want to get in the middle of this.
Of course, I care about what happens to you, David. You're my brother. But I am concerned about you. Whatever crisis you're experiencing has taught me a lot about my own shortcomings and skillful methods to distract myself from the work I really need to do, so I'm grateful for these exchanges. If you want to talk about it, argue about it or whatever, feel free to write any time!
Hope to hear from you,
Tabitha
Subj: Disclaimer
Date: 7/10/00 9:44:47 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From: TabbyGrad
To: daccad36@hotmail.com
Hey there,
This won't be long, I promise! Certainly not as long as my past post. I re-read what I sent you, and I think I may have taken some unfair liberties that I shouldn't have. Your financial relationship with Mom and Dad is none of my business. And they don't share it with me except in small, unconscious snippets that slip unnoticed. For instance, when I was there last week, we all went to Our Land. As we were hiking up the creek bed, Mom realized she had forgotten a book she wanted to read while we hiked further down the trail without her. She asked Dad if he could go back to my car and get it out of her purse. He started back, then Mom suddenly said, "Oh, never mind. I don't want it." Dad immediately went back to hiking, and I asked Mom, "Are you sure?" And she whispered, "I don't want him in my purse." I offered to get it instead. When I returned, I asked her why she didn't want Dad to get it. She said, "Because there's a phone bill in there with lots of calls to and from Japan." And, of course, she told me about the $800 because she probably felt bad that she didn't get me a birthday gift.
That's all I know for sure, and that's enough. For all I know, that's it. For me to claim you're financially dependent on Mom and Dad is something I should keep to myself, and more importantly, not even care about. As long as I'm not, that's all that should matter. I guess I was just trying to help when maybe you don't need any.
I still believe I made some salient points, particularly with regard to your need to explore your motivations for airing your grievances. Talking to Dad privately about Mom won't get you the result you hoped for. Do you really want to be the wedge that alienates Mom from everyone in this family? Do you really want everyone to turn against her? You may not know it, but that's what it appears you're trying to do, and as fucked as we are, it'll take more than that, I believe.
I've been writing a lot the past few days, and I'm really excited about it. I got to thinking about what makes me a writer today, and why it took so long for me realize it was basically my destiny, like it or not. I think that it took so long because I, like Mom, bought into the stigma surrounding writers as starving, pensive brooders who were a drain on society, fostered by Dad's ceaseless fear of risk and lack of understanding about the value of creativity, and, of course, Mom's sad stories of professors who talked her out of chasing her own dreams of being a writer.
You didn't buy into any of that. Whatever motivated you to leave the U.S. to travel, be it wanderlust, adventure, a search for yourself, fear, insecurity, or escape doesn't matter. You didn't listen to the nay-sayers. You took a risk, and that's why Dad will probably never understand you and why Mom admires you -- so does Charissa and so do I. It may or may not be all that you had hoped, but at least you didn't allow anyone to talk you out of your dreams. I, like Mom, listened to everyone but myself. And I'm working to change it while there's still time. God willing, there's plenty of it!
Take care!
Tabitha
