We’re having an uncontained large fire. It’s on the other side of the intercoastal and so far on the other side of North Myrtle. It’s a little exciting and very scary.
Day 2) They’re almost downplaying the fire on the news I live north of it. I would put an article from the New York Times in but unfortunately it’s the best I could find
This is for 3WW Here are parts one and two
Is deceit a vital part of growing up? Between ages fifteen and 24 there were many times I did set out to deceive my parents. By the time I was 25, in 1975-76, I was tired of playing word games with the truth. At 25, I wanted to indulge my long suffering father.
I had been “living” at my parents house for six months by January 3, 1976. I put “living” in quotes as most nights I would stay on my friend Shelby’s couch or in some guy’s apartment. I remember the first time I saw cable TV. I can’t describe the guy but I still remember the building, and his living room where WNEW-FM (my radio station then) played in the background while Reuters News scanned the picture tube. It was, I thought, a miracle. I can’t say the same for the sex as I don’t remember it.
When I came “home,” it would usually be two or three in the morning. My parents couldn’t and wouldn’t say anything as they had raised me without a curfew, and I made it to the train to the city and work each morning. They didn’t know about the little envelope of white powder I sometimes used. I never liked coke as a party drug but as something to keep me functioning I loved it.
When I indulged, which was most nights and many mornings and afternoons for I worked at a hand painted tee shirt company where my boss was a junkie; the art director an alkie, and I the coordinator between departments and assistant to the president, I would indulge in my drug of choice–pot. I tried keeping it to a manageable level.
So yes I was deceiving my parents but they were silent partners to it. I “lived” at their house so I could save my money for an apartment. My father insisted on paying for my monthly train ticket.
Years before after I dropped out of college, lived in Stuyvesant Town, and saved my money for an open ended ticket to Europe and Israel, I went to the travel agency to pick my ticket up:
Oh you’re just a few minutes late. A very handsome older man bought it for you The woman squealed. She thought I was horrors of horrors living off an older man. And I was.
Did he have a large nose, too long hair for somebody his age and a moustache?
Yes
That’s no man, that’s my father.
Whenever we went to restaurants and they tried to seat us in the lovers banquettes I made that distinction clear. I didn’t want my father mistaken for my lover and I didn’t want him to buy me things. I wanted the privilege of paying my own way.
I took a silent oath saying I would return anything he gave me. I tried returning the ticket. He was beyond insulted and told me that I could put the money in an Israeli bank account he had set up for me.
I knew then I was bought and paid for. It wasn’t until recently that I understand the pride a parent takes in being able to give. Fortunately I always knew how much my father loved me. Even in the years between fifteen to 25 when we our language was clocked and fraught with many different meanings.
Life’s too short to spend bitching
I’m glad you’ve found the key to writing your memoir. Part three, as well as the first two parts, gives me a clear vision into your soul. Thanks for sharing.
These are important, no matter the severity of the truth, to get to the real feeling. Thanks for sharing.
Happy 3WW.
Very funny post. The pictures are great, too.
I like non-linear way of writing. As you know I indulge in it. It happens because we don’t think coneventionally.
Glad you decided to write your memoir. It might be painful at places but well worth it.
gyrating on its own steam of oath
I often find that writing memoirs tell us something of ourselves as well as others.
Enjoyed this.
‘that’s no man that’s my father’ killed me Pia!
My eldest son gets mistaken for my boyfriend so often! HE thinks it’s funny but I am mortified and embarrassed! haha
I love this very honest tale and dealing with my own twenty two year old, who wishes he didn’t live here, keeps VERY long hours and I silently PRAY is not indulging in those party treats you so honestly talk about.. I REALLY related to much in your Very well told post!
(I also want to say… after reading your comment on 3ww..I am very Guilty and sorry for not leaving many comments on your blog.. It has NOThing to do with your writing and ALL to do with me being way too over extended in my crazy life. but I know how u feel and I want to let u know.. I think your writing is amazing! please forgive my inconsiderateness. If I don’t have time to read the entire post with focus, I don’t feel it’s fair to leave a half hearted comment,but I know how much blogging is a two way street. xo)
I work with middle-schoolers in a writing workshop and writing in a linear fashion in all they know. Its almost like breaking the rules when I tell them to jump around in their stories. I find it hard to work in 100% linear fashion. I like it when my imagination jumps around.
I enjoyed your thoughts about your relationship with your father-and look foward to more of the memoir.
It wasn’t until recently that I understand the pride a parent takes in being able to give.
I think that’s something we all often forget. Or I know I do. I struggle with taking things from my parents, forgetting how much it means to them to be able to give me now what they couldn’t before. (And what they wish their own parents could have given them.)
Hi Pia and thanks for your comment. If you will indulge me, I give you my oath that I will return tomorrow and read all three parts of this work. I have no wish to use deceit so will honestly tell you that I am simply too tired to read it and do it justice tonight. 😉
“It wasn’t until recently that I understand the pride a parent takes in being able to give.”
This rang true for me as well. I believe the legacy your parents giving has left all of us is your generousness of spirit. Sing on, Pia! Linear is overrated, we will follow. Trust us!
Pia, there is always something so familiar to me in your memoirs. I’m not sure if its the time or the place or a bit of both. Last week I said I could smell it. Well I was just in Manhattan then, but I still get an olfactory with this. Weird, ain’t it?
“It was, I thought, a miracle. I can’t say the same for the sex as I don’t remember it.” Definite LOL moment. I am definitely enjoying your writing. don’t drop out on account of some wannabe poet. ; )
Nice flow of memoirs. I like the words house me. Like your layout. Its super cool.
That was quite introspective. Very well narrated Pia, and what to say of such lovely parents..
We deceit our parents,yes,we do.
But still they love us.
I felt your memoir as the most beautiful outing for 3ww this time.
And yes
A pride a parent takes is to give….
~harsha
Seductive and addictive, you’re drawing me in.
“That’s no man, that’s my father” would make a great title chapter, though I’m not sure anyone titles chapters anymore 🙂
Keeping stuff from our parents is such a universal thing. Then again, I think they always know more than we think they know.
intriguing, it’s odd sometimes to think your parents provides for you and you don’t have to give anything back but I do understand about wanting to be independent
I don’t think you have to write in linear form, memories comes and go and often isn’t linear anyway, I think you should write however you feel comfortable with
Intense.
I hope writing all this down helps you in some way. Thank you for taking us along on the journey.
I really enjoyed reading this !! the first part itself hooked me !! and maybe its true too 🙂
Pia,
When I joined 3WW I wrote mostly poetry. But folks like you and Thom, unknowingly reminded me how much I enjoy writing prose. I long since stopped worrying about the quality of my comments for one thing, there was no way I could write something to match the quality of your work, but more importantly, I think more times than not, when a reader comments, it’s a compliment; it says your work elicits a response. The reader wants you to know your work is appreciated.
Pia, I have now got to the point of being desperate to read the next piece!
‘That’s no man, that’s my father’ is the line that will stick with me from this one. With a partner many years older than I, I have long lived with the reverse of this line.
Deceit is an intergral part of teen years I think. I know I deceived most of the people who knew me in those years. In my turn, as a parent, I am well aware of the deceits practiced on me by my offspring.
What never ceases to amaze me is the fact that they think I don’t know. Because parents were never teens of course.
Keep writing Pia, please and thank you for sharing with such honesty and depth.
thanks for visiting my page 🙂
I loved this piece, I read it the other day while waiting for my facial though I didn’t do much else scrolling around. I only just heard about the fires in Myrtle beach this morning. You must come back soon to tell us everything is alright. I am now looking up more information on it and am praying it rains likes cats and dogs there soon. Lets us know soon as the comments are off above.
You are one wonderful story teller. Thank you.
I appreciated the comment on my blog. I wrote a follow up article today.
Enjoy NYC!
b