First, the image as I remember it. When we were little, mom would put my sister and me down for naps or for bedtime with stories of Miss Blue Mouse (for me) and Miss Pink Mouse (for sis). Mom would spin tales of details about what they were wearing, the friends they would visit. Picking out dresses, shoes, and purses. Planning parties. Her vivid descriptions helped fuel my imagination, and I knew that if I ever saw Miss Blue Mouse I would know her instantly. Years pass. Miss Blue Mouse was replaced with my own dresses, friends and parties. Although wee animals have been illustrated before by such famous souls as Beatrix Potter, A.A.Milne, Richard Scary, and the close but not quite right Wee Village, I just never saw Miss Blue Mouse again.
Mom got cancer, and by the time I was 22 she was only a few months from leaving us all. On my 22st birthday, I went over to the little apartment she and Dad had on Slide Road. After dinner she handed me a small package. It contained a small 4x4 blue frame surrounding her pastel drawing of Miss Blue Mouse. As the tears brimmed in my eyes, I said , “Her nose is so soft!” My gaze was met with her own tear filled eyes, and she softly spoke, “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” Miss Blue Mouse was one of my first memories, and she was the last picture Mom (a devoted mother and talented artist) drew for me.
Recently, Janie called me so excited about meeting a woman who struck up a conversation (Janie can talk to any stranger and leave a friend) about her own plans for a party she was planning. Janie told her about our Miss Mouse stories and the lady sparked Janie’s enthusiasm to write a children’s story about it. When she called, she was already talking about finding a publisher. Trying not to spoil her moment I told her to just write everything down, and we would go from there. We hung up, and moments later (really!) she called again to read her story to me. It did bring up all those wonderful stories again. They even added to the paragraph above. Again she was ready to call a publisher. Not being an expert, but at least a little knowledgeable about writing, I knew we would first need to work, draft, revise and edit it. I know that the publishing business can be brutal, and I didn’t want to go to that disappointing corner. I unthinkingly blurted out that we could even write it in 5 different perspectives to see which we liked best…..dead…silence. Then in her Janie way, she told me that she did not want my negativity (a REAL sore spot with me) to spoil this for her. She did not want me to overwork it so much that she would not want to do this any more. She didn’t want to change it at all, just find a publisher and an artist to illustrate it. Although a trained and talented artist in her own right, she said she can't draw from her imagination and wanted me to do all the leg work with her story as is.
It took everything I had to walk softly through this conversation. It easily could have ended up a yelling match bring up the old feuds we had when we were younger. I have achieved the dubious honor of being Miss Negativity and probably not without reason. I, of course, would consider it walking on the side of caution, but the reputation is solidly fixed. At the moment I felt I was being chastised for negative remarks that hadn’t even happened yet. In her perspective, Janie saw revision after revision as a killer overworking her inspiration. We did back pedal (both of us) to let’s just exchange ideas and see where it goes from here.
Soft. Too many connotations that don’t even come close to the baby’s bottom, bunny nose, chinchilla fur touchables that most might think of. Then again. Memoirs are about connection and most of those are with people…not objects; and, with people, emotions, actions, and relationships are more important. They have to be handled softly.
I think we grew up in the same family in different parts of the world! This was heart-rendering, funny - also frustrating. Let me introduce Mrs. Negativity #2 - but a really sweet person and my siblings are lucky to have me. Ha, ha. The unfortunate voice of seasoned experiences and in my own way, I want all sorts of success for the younger ones. I never mean to sound overbearing or be a spoiler. I've simply had more experiences of loss, disappointments and opportunities for humility. Sometimes I wish to spare them. Our parents were very hands-off for a variety of reasons. You and your sister are miles apart, even in appearance - both so beautiful in your own way. Isn't that nice? If someone asks for help, as my sisters frequently do, they must be ready for the ideas! Unfortunately, good writing is exhausting, gut-wrenching and like a sword going through the fire at least times. It's a little like childbirth. Of course, you are both o.k.! On the other hand, what could be more precious than our siblings feeling safe and valued by us and us in return? What a fine balance it can all be. The stories about your mother are a completely different topic. I would love to hear more over the months. What a dear person she must have been. What a loss at such a young age for you. I've had many mother figures in my life and for all of them, I am grateful. My most dear is Mary, Mother of Jesus.
ReplyDeleteYour stories of your family always touch me. Families are so complicated. They are the most important to us and the most challenging. We care so much but often we are so different. You and your sister certainly seem to persevere at accepting each other as such opposite people. I wish that my brother and I could do this. We simply don't talk. Almost 5 years. Your mom must have been the glue that held your family together. I can see that your feelings for your dad are equally as special but your mom must have been quite a person. To have someone pass on due to cancer is to be helpless. So often, it is the person suffering who carries the others through it. We never want them to see the shoulder shaking crying or the fist pounding we do but they know we do it. How wonderful your mother was so tuned in to you girls. You honor your mother by being good to each other. She left you a beautiful legacy.
ReplyDeleteSuzanne - Another piece with your mother woven through. I look forward to these. Perhaps, I enjoy the vicarious pleasure of hearing of mothers and daughters who treasure their relationships. As time goes on, my daughter and I build new bridges and I can see that our troubles have been due to age - hers and mine(!) - and distance. Softness. Yes, softness. Yesterday, my daughter asked me to stop yelling into the phone. That is nearly impossible because my voice is so soft, that all my life I've been told to speak up. We were talking about something very important to me, such as "the roots" you talk about in this blog. Cells phones are awful to talk on when sitting on the side of the road and her, with the hands-free required in her state - still not a solution, in my opinion. I continued to give my take on things by using family lore to enhance the conversation and provide some insight. The louder I talked thinking I couldn't be heard, the more she told me not to yell. I finally said, "This isn't yelling. It's animated and caring shreiking." What a belly laugh we had. It was wonderful. When she got home, she called from her land line and what a pleasant, soft conversation we had. She told me that it's only when I bring up the tough and sad things that she shuts down. It's too much for her. I don't mean to. For me, the whole ball of wax is fascinating from those before me. What I realized is that I need to soften things for her - to emphasize the positive. (I'll still leave the whole story in a memoir of sorts for her when I'm gone with pictures and other momentos. She can take what she needs and leave the rest.) For now, she enjoys the funny and wild stories. It's not about me. It's for her. I was forcing her to walk down the old roads with me. I wasn't respecting her boundaries and treating her softly. Thank you. Please know your pieces about your mother are appreciated. I love being a mother and hope that my daughter will remember me as you do yours. Miss Blue Mouse is precious. I've never really seen anything like it. How talented. e
ReplyDeleteReading this brings such poignant memories of my own family. Being a younger one, I always looked up to my siblings. It wasn't always easy. They seemed like bullies at times. They seemed to automatically know how to do the right thing. I was jealous but didn't let anyone know. They were talented and steady. Being much, much younger, I was considered cuter and more outgoing but I yearned to be trusted and dependable, as they were, and still are. What I do know is that they are always there for me. They often accept me better than I accept them. So, there you have it!
ReplyDeleteWhat "I have," what you have, are your precious comments which validate the fact that family is foremost in our lives. They will pick us up, strengthen our resolves, and yes, even bring us to tears. My wish for you all is to make every moment count when you have a chance to be with any one of your family -- even through "animated and caring shrieking", belly laughs, or quiet acceptance of each other. Blessing to you all.
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What a lovely, lovely piece. You and your sister are so different, not only in appearance. Apples and oranges as they say. Your mom was no doubt the person who could balance you both! What a fine legacy. My sister and I struggle. She says I boss. I say she whines. I make friends who I think will be like sisters and then I find out at times, my own sister is the one I want. We share something that no one else has - our mom. I do though, sometimes, wish I had spanked my sister when I had the chance!
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