Conversations with New York
October 20, 2008
I talked with my American editor today and once again realized I have no clue how huge this book deal is. I mean, I think it’s pretty amazing…but I don’t really grasp the magnitude. So, I continue to be blow away by these conversations with New York.
Digging in the Dirt is one of my favourite Peter Gabriel songs. “Digging in the dirt Stay with me, I need support. I'm digging in the dirt. To find the places I got hurt. Open up the places I got hurt.” Well, I’m digging in the dirt right now…part research and part just curiosity. How am I doing this? You’ll have to wait for the book. Here’s a piece that rose to the surface recently.
the box
Somewhere in his father's garage there is a box of almost new hockey equipment. Thelonious Pinsky sometimes imagines his father taking a black marker and writing the word disappointment on the side of the box in big black letters. Or, not a real man. Or complete and utter failure. All these things make up the subtext of this box of barely used hockey equipment. He does not know why his mind parks in front of this box now, after thirty years. Perhaps it’s fear. He fears he will not be moved when his father dies – that his face will turn flat and cold, and no feeling of any kind will occur. His breathing will not change. His heart will pound steadily. There will be nothing. Profound indifference would be something. It would be a swing in some direction. Sadness. Joy. Relief. Melancholy. Pensiveness. Well, pensiveness would be a symptom of some emotion. He fears the nothingness – the quick shrug and then moving on into his day. Thelonious comes back to the box. The box is what stands between him and his father. It’s also what joins them. But mostly it stands between. The bartender pours wine into a glass. He did not ask for more wine, but she pours it nonetheless. She moves the spent glass smoothly away and slips the new glass onto the coaster. Thelonious is oblivious to her expertise. He’s standing in the garage. He’s going to open that box.
7 Comments
1. deb had this to say: Oct 23, 2008 ~ 17:03 ~ #
It’s not a good thing to feel nothing, not even for a character. It’s hard on your physical body. I keep coming back to read this passage over and over because of another book I’m reading right now called “When the Body Says No”.
What are parents do to us, unwittingly and sometimes knowingly, what we do to our children. I worry about it. Worry about the things I’ve said or done to my children that were done to me but that I now know are not good. Disappointment would be a big thing. It is a big thing.
2. Moira had this to say: Oct 27, 2008 ~ 09:15 ~ #
My mother is dying. When she is gone, I will feel many things, one of which is relief. And then guilt, likely, because I’m relieved. She doesn’t deserve to linger the way she is, not understanding what is going on around her because of Alzheimer’s.
As much as one might think they will feel nothing, nothing could be further from the truth, I’m guessing.
3. Thomas had this to say: Oct 27, 2008 ~ 11:45 ~ #
Deb,
Our best effort – our best, conscious effort at being a good parent or a decent human being will inevitably cause some sort of problem down the road. It’s not like we sit around late at night trying to come up with ways to screw up our children. No parent I can imagine would sit around and try to come up with ideas on how to hurt or damage their children.
I know. Feeling nothingness is an awful quagmire. Thelonious Pinsky is in trouble. He’s in therapy (I don’t mean the wine). He’ll be okay.
Namaste
Thomas
4. Thomas had this to say: Oct 27, 2008 ~ 11:52 ~ #
Moira,
I’m sorry to hear about your mom.
I don’t know much really, but I have learned that there is no right way to grieve. There is no formula. There aren’t even any hard-and-fast stages. Everything is possible. Pre-grieving, almost no grieving…anything. It’s an unknown. And that’s why it’s frightening. I think it’s important, no matter what form it comes, to honour our grief, to give it space and let it be what it has to be.
Oh, I think this character will feel plenty when his father passes — he’s only worried he won’t.
5. Moira had this to say: Nov 07, 2008 ~ 07:45 ~ #
Mum always liked you very much. She died yesterday.
I almost wish I could feel nothing, but that would not honour her and what she meant to me. So, I will feel the gamut of emotions as they come, and drink a wee dram of her favourite Scotch (Glendronach — you should try it).
6. Thomas had this to say: Nov 07, 2008 ~ 09:51 ~ #
Moira,
I am so sorry to hear this. And of course, you should feel what comes! I have no doubt…And it will be hard. Even fourteen years after my mom died, I still feel…and on that day, I am chopped like no time has passed…and that pain is present and real and profound, again.
Your mom was a sweetheart. She was always decent and kind to me.
This is sad news, Moira.
7. Moira had this to say: Nov 08, 2008 ~ 12:57 ~ #
Thank you. Your mother, too, was a sweetheart. I know how much you love her and how she loved you.