To Write or Not to Write

My sister has written and published a book. This past Thursday I attended her book launching party.  The book is titled "Objects in Mirror Are Closer than They Appear A Memoir".  As her siblings we all knew she was writing this book, but we had no idea of it's content.  It was with much eager and excited anticipation that we all attended this very auspicious occasion.  We(siblings) are all so very proud of her and now we can say we have an author in the family.  What I find interesting, is that although we were not privy to the content of her book, we all had our own thoughts about what she would write.  Some of us thought she would write about being a child of an immigrant family and the journey to a new country or about the struggles at the beginning, or even what it was like to grow up in a family of 12 children. I wasn't prepared for what she choose to write.

Pauline or Pave as we call her is an educated woman. She's  been published in educational journals and periodicals.  She has been published numerous times in the local paper.  Pave retired not long ago from being a school principal. Retirement has provided her the time to put all those journals she had kept over the years into use.  She decided it was time to write her memoirs.  In preparation for the writing of her book she took writing courses and explored the world of writing and publishing.  Once she had completed those courses her journey in writing began, although she might argue she was always writing her story.

As I said we knew she was writing about the family, but what and how it would be presented we the siblings were not privy.  There was quite the gathering at the book launch.  Many faces I recognized and many I didn't.  There were old school chums of my sisters, some university friends, and old family friends.  We all waited in eager anticipation for her to read a chapter from her book.


The time came and we all sat down, her daughter who no doubt was very proud of her mother stood up and said a few words and introduced her mom and then it began.  My sister spoke of her journey in writing her book and before she started to read from her book she  prefaced that these memoirs are Her memories and her remembrance of the occasion or event.  It was important I think for her to say that as it prepared us the listeners and participants of her life to know this.


Pave choose to read Chapter 8 which was titled " Poor is a Four letter Word".  In this chapter Pave regales us with a story of when she(and us her Sib's) were on a holiday where the swimsuits were forgotten at home.  She told of  how my mom who I thought was very creative went and bought bras and panties and material for my elder sisters(Pave being one of the older sisters).  My mother pain stakingly sat by the campfire and sewed that material to those undergarments and created the swimsuits that we will never forget.  Of course Pave who must have been 14 or 15 at the time was aghast at these suits and refused to wear hers.  According to my sister my mom scolded her and tried to make her feel guilty because she wouldn't wear the suit that she had made. And so that is what Pave chose to share in her book, how mom made her feel bad about not wanting to wear the suit.


I  remember that camping trip like it was yesterday.  I being one of the youngest got to swim in what I remember as cotton underwear. I recall being a little shy not having a top to wear but I don't remember how my sister felt.  Well now I know how she felt.  She felt mortified, humiliated and POOR!  How sad I thought that she remembered it this way.  I on the other hand  recall this story as being funny and extremely creative  of my mom.  Why my mom never bought suits I will never know, and as an adult I never thought to ask.  I am not sure how Pave could fault my mom for making those suits and or scolding her for not wearing it. That isn't what matters here, it's what  made Pave feel poor and that is all she remembers of that vacation. She also spoke about this cupboard or clothes closet I called it that my father had made.  This this closet was the length and width of the station wagon. It was made in order to store all of our clothing and was anchored to the top of the car. I thought is was ingenious of him. I mean really could you imagine how many suitcases you would have need in order to pack clothes for 10 children and parents?  So the closet/cupboard it was.  Pave speaks about how the clothes were wrinkled. Again, I don't remember that, what I remember is mom ironing those clothes and putting them lovingly on each shelf, but again it was Pave's memories not mine.  She didn't have anything positive to say about our camping life and yet I remember it so differently. I wondered why she didn't remember or choose not to write about our times picking cherries in the orchards, or the the trip to Barkersville.  There are ten years between Pave and I and of course she would see it differently.  But I asked myself, doesn't she remember the hikes, the campfires, the story times? Didn't she remember our boating days?  Cruising up and down the coast exploring little coves and inlets?  Doesn't she remember dropping anchor and rowing ashore and collecting clams and oysters for dinner, and all the beachcombing?  How different our recollection of those days are. 
HER memoirs.

I wonder why my sister opted to write and dwell on all the difficult times.  In her first chapter she wrote about her years in catholic school, about the nuns and how they "ruled by the rod".  The nuns could be cruel there was no doubt about that. I wonder now if maybe that is why she opted to go into education.  I am also not sure why she opted not to write about the early days in England when times were not as financially challenging for the family and ultimately her. I wonder if  she remembered the time when my parents were running an Inn.  This inn was an old mansion on a hill.  My father had gone to sea and my mother was left to tend the Inn and care for my older siblings.  I ask myself if she remembered or cared how my mother almost lost all her hair because she worked so hard to maintain that Inn and at night how terribly scared my mom was of that old mansion.  Probably not, Pave never had a very good memory.  In later years when we would gather as a family we would talk about the "old days" and the early beginnings, Pave would often ask if she was even there.

I am very proud of my sister for venturing out and writing her book I am saddened by what memories she choose to share with the reader.  I guess that is why they call it "Memoirs". I can kind of relate to how Joan  Crawford must have felt when her daughter wrote about her in her book "Mother Dearest".

One could say there could be twelve different interpretations or recollections of the events that Pave wrote about.  We would all write the story our own way.  I guess that is what she has done.  I am proud of my sister.  I am sad that she had such cold and dark memories of her early years and chose to share those memories instead of sharing in her accomplishments.  Pave in my eyes was and is theatrical.  I can remember when she performed in a play at our local theater and her doing stand up comedy at a local venue.  She was and continues to be so funny. Pave certainly was the person who could turn your frown upside down. One of my fondest memories of  Pave was when I  was a little girl, it was  her wedding day. I thought my big sister was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.  I wished she remembered that, but those are my memories now aren't they.