I wouldn't know this saying! I love hearing you read them, win win. You're very good at it. I've tried just reading my writing out loud and I'm all fumbly, not as fluent and expressive as you.
The cheating at pin the tail on the donkey cracked me up. What a circle of parties and treats and fancy things, Nan! But the moment with the comment from the parent was crushing, and that she then turned away and conversation resumed as if nothing had happened.... wow. That she even noticed one guest edging in for another cupcake! Frances sounds like a wonderful person, and how special that she really saw you -- and you her, as much as you could as a child.
Thanks, Amy. I'm so glad you said something about pin the tail on the donkey. That's one of my favorite parts of the story. And yes, the mother/parent. Terrible. I was 6 at the most. Frances was beautiful. xo
I was indeed. Mixed in with the messes of life was a lot of joy and discovery. I had a bunch of great experiences, and I'm grateful to write my stories, because it gives me an opportunity to reflect on things from a different perspective than I might have had 10, 20, 30 years ago. You know?
Nan, my dad, was the photographer in our extended family, but mostly in 3-D, and I never had them digitized. I wish I had because I appreciate how you share your photos and essays.
My mom went to work when we were kids, and we had Katie take care of us from Friday until late Saturday. She took the bus from the city to our house. Hours on that bus—leaving her own family to watch over us. Your post brings back sweet memories of her love and kindness toward our rowdy bunch.
I always wondered about these wonderful women who left their own families to care for others. I'm sure it wasn't their first choice in most cases. People do what they need to so they can raise their families and get by. Frances was a wonderful soul. I can't imagine that some of it wasn't really challenging for her.
I was an edge-piece kinda gal, when sheet cakes were all the rage, so I feel ya on the icing. Thank you for letting us in to the head and hurt of little Nancy. She has a lot to tell us about Nan.
Never liked the edges, myself! Thanks for coming into the head and hurt (love that phrasing). Yes, telling the stories helps me know myself so much better. xo
Nan, you have such a phenomenal ability to inhabit your child self--and put us inside her also. That mom! You can bet that she turned that shaming on herself as well. Projection.
Thanks, Pamela. I really enjoy inhabiting little Nan and telling these stories. And yes! Absolutely projection on the part of the mothers. All the women were practically insane (I'm not a diagnostician, btw, but I know disordered eating issues when I see them) about food, weight, image. They got trained and then they trained their daughters, too, so we could all feel insane together! The less, the merrier. xo
I wonder if it's any better today. I hope so. At least, I think moms today, even if they are crazy about body image/weight, are aware that they are crazy and aware, usually, of the feminist critique of that craziness. And more often have the drive to spare their daughters from it, whether they succeed or not. When I was a little kid, my mom was always trying to lose 5 pounds (or maybe it was 10). She never could. Then, when I was nine, she went back to school to get her Ph.D and she was happy and busy instead of bored and stifled and the weight came off without any effort because she wasn't thinking about it and didn't care anymore. (Not that it was so important that she did lose weight, but I do remember thinking: Hm, interesting!)
That is interesting! I think there is more of an awareness, but I don't think the overall objectifying culture has changed much. But little steps matter. I'm glad your mother found something that filled her up and challenged her. That's fabulous!
I'll check it out, thanks for sharing it with me. The thing was, I wasn't a fat kid. This story was more about being a child and being shamed, and for the craziness of the messages coming from our adults about food/weight/body image. It definitely plants a seed for self-loathing and confusion, confused choices as I see it. xo
I have often thought the craziness in the messaging, and the shaming about fatness or potential for fatness, is really the central thing. I've met so many people who don't describe themselves as having been fat kids but who were fat-shamed in ways that sound identical to things I and other fat kids experienced, and seem to have had more or less the same effects.
Absolutely lost touch with her. This is one of my few memories. She was kind and this is a stand-out memory. We moved to suburbia, and then, the only people of color I saw were the women who'd get on the train from Brooklyn or Queens to clean houses. I knew how wrong it was then. My school in NYC was a splendid mix of all kinds of kids. Long Island, not at all.
Yup. We were on the poorer side of middle class. It was the 1960s. We lived in NYC, and yes. For real. Everything is relative, of course, but things were economically easier in those days. It was actually pretty simple stuff, and I appreciate how privileged we were.
My grandmother was pretty poor, and worked until she was well into her 80s. And the one thing she budgeted carefully for was help with cleaning because she worked so hard.
What a great story! I really enjoyed reading this. Every little girl needs a Frances in her corner . Congratulations on getting a story published in a literary magazine! I’m sure there will be plenty more 🤗❤️
It's just the best. I've always loved it, ever since I was a little girl. I wrote a play in French when I was six, and constant letters to my grandmother who lived in England (I live in Switzerland). Then I stopped for many years, but as soon as I ran into trouble in my head, I returned to writing and wrote a book. Then I stopped again for twenty years, and got sick, and my life changed so much that I needed something to hang onto, so I began writing poetry, of all things! So random! I'd never been interested in poetry, and now I'm addicted. I'm publishing a book of poem, with my daughter's illustrations in April, and I'm so exited, and proud, too. Please write more stories about Frances and your childhood! Big hugs xx
I don't have too many stories about Frances. But that one is the an important one in understanding the pull of disordered eating in my life. I definitely have more childhood stories! It's amazing how vivid some of these memories are for me. I love your writing history. I've never been that pulled by poetry, and yet, there are poets I adore. I don't see myself ever writing it, but who knows? I'm open to possibilities. Big hugs back at you, Francesca. xoxo
I will read more of your posts. I’ve never had an eating disorder, but now I almost do because I’m not interested in food because of my IBD. Food is not fun anymore, so I eat minimally, and very much the same things over and over. I came to poetry because of this illness, there were many days I couldn’t leave the house because I was so sick. I tiptoed in through word prompts and when those ended I just kept going. I buy poetry books all the time now, my husband sees the brown parcel and says it’s my daily book! More hugs! haha! xx
The soggy saltines must've come after my time!
Must be! xo
I think I had the same striped dress!
Fabulous! We were mod girls, yes?
Yes indeed
Fun story
I used to love pin the towel on the donkey as well. I imagine we all cheated at it, no secret. Thx
Thanks, Prajna. We definitely didn't all cheat. What about all the losers??? xo
Funny I didn’t cheat to win. I didn’t like not seeing
More about trust than winning
I agree
Interesting. That's a good reason.
Oh Nan what a lovely story! Thank you for sharing 😊 I’ve been enjoying listening to you read the story, you’ve got a lovely reading voice.
Thank you, Sheila. I LOVE reading the stories. It's the kosher ham in me! xo
I wouldn't know this saying! I love hearing you read them, win win. You're very good at it. I've tried just reading my writing out loud and I'm all fumbly, not as fluent and expressive as you.
The cheating at pin the tail on the donkey cracked me up. What a circle of parties and treats and fancy things, Nan! But the moment with the comment from the parent was crushing, and that she then turned away and conversation resumed as if nothing had happened.... wow. That she even noticed one guest edging in for another cupcake! Frances sounds like a wonderful person, and how special that she really saw you -- and you her, as much as you could as a child.
Thanks, Amy. I'm so glad you said something about pin the tail on the donkey. That's one of my favorite parts of the story. And yes, the mother/parent. Terrible. I was 6 at the most. Frances was beautiful. xo
It sounds like you were surrounded by a lot of very vibrant people and characters in your young life Nan. What a gift. I can't wait for more stories.
I was indeed. Mixed in with the messes of life was a lot of joy and discovery. I had a bunch of great experiences, and I'm grateful to write my stories, because it gives me an opportunity to reflect on things from a different perspective than I might have had 10, 20, 30 years ago. You know?
Nan, my dad, was the photographer in our extended family, but mostly in 3-D, and I never had them digitized. I wish I had because I appreciate how you share your photos and essays.
My mom went to work when we were kids, and we had Katie take care of us from Friday until late Saturday. She took the bus from the city to our house. Hours on that bus—leaving her own family to watch over us. Your post brings back sweet memories of her love and kindness toward our rowdy bunch.
I always wondered about these wonderful women who left their own families to care for others. I'm sure it wasn't their first choice in most cases. People do what they need to so they can raise their families and get by. Frances was a wonderful soul. I can't imagine that some of it wasn't really challenging for her.
Agree, Nan. They did what was needed, and they did it with such love.
Yes. xo
I was an edge-piece kinda gal, when sheet cakes were all the rage, so I feel ya on the icing. Thank you for letting us in to the head and hurt of little Nancy. She has a lot to tell us about Nan.
Never liked the edges, myself! Thanks for coming into the head and hurt (love that phrasing). Yes, telling the stories helps me know myself so much better. xo
Nan, you have such a phenomenal ability to inhabit your child self--and put us inside her also. That mom! You can bet that she turned that shaming on herself as well. Projection.
Thanks, Pamela. I really enjoy inhabiting little Nan and telling these stories. And yes! Absolutely projection on the part of the mothers. All the women were practically insane (I'm not a diagnostician, btw, but I know disordered eating issues when I see them) about food, weight, image. They got trained and then they trained their daughters, too, so we could all feel insane together! The less, the merrier. xo
I wonder if it's any better today. I hope so. At least, I think moms today, even if they are crazy about body image/weight, are aware that they are crazy and aware, usually, of the feminist critique of that craziness. And more often have the drive to spare their daughters from it, whether they succeed or not. When I was a little kid, my mom was always trying to lose 5 pounds (or maybe it was 10). She never could. Then, when I was nine, she went back to school to get her Ph.D and she was happy and busy instead of bored and stifled and the weight came off without any effort because she wasn't thinking about it and didn't care anymore. (Not that it was so important that she did lose weight, but I do remember thinking: Hm, interesting!)
That is interesting! I think there is more of an awareness, but I don't think the overall objectifying culture has changed much. But little steps matter. I'm glad your mother found something that filled her up and challenged her. That's fabulous!
Oh, Nan, I so enjoyed this. Thank you. It was a really delightful thing to encounter the day after I posted my own fat kid birthday-cake memoir -- https://rntq.substack.com/p/happy-birthday-to-me-and-you
I'll check it out, thanks for sharing it with me. The thing was, I wasn't a fat kid. This story was more about being a child and being shamed, and for the craziness of the messages coming from our adults about food/weight/body image. It definitely plants a seed for self-loathing and confusion, confused choices as I see it. xo
I have often thought the craziness in the messaging, and the shaming about fatness or potential for fatness, is really the central thing. I've met so many people who don't describe themselves as having been fat kids but who were fat-shamed in ways that sound identical to things I and other fat kids experienced, and seem to have had more or less the same effects.
It's amazing, isn't it. Completely agree with what you're saying. I think the culture has terrorized us. It feels embedded in my operating system! xo
What a tender, loving story. Did you lose touch with Frances when you moved? I'd love to learn more about her and your relationship with her!
Absolutely lost touch with her. This is one of my few memories. She was kind and this is a stand-out memory. We moved to suburbia, and then, the only people of color I saw were the women who'd get on the train from Brooklyn or Queens to clean houses. I knew how wrong it was then. My school in NYC was a splendid mix of all kinds of kids. Long Island, not at all.
People lived like this?
They just .. went to parties and somebody else cleaned their homes?
Yup. We were on the poorer side of middle class. It was the 1960s. We lived in NYC, and yes. For real. Everything is relative, of course, but things were economically easier in those days. It was actually pretty simple stuff, and I appreciate how privileged we were.
My grandmother was pretty poor, and worked until she was well into her 80s. And the one thing she budgeted carefully for was help with cleaning because she worked so hard.
Cleaners make more than I ever have so it would never make sense for me to pay for cleaning.
Not really the main focus of my story, but I get it, for sure.
Sweet!
Thanks, Betty!
Delicious writing, Nan. xo
Thanks, Victoria! xo
What a great story! I really enjoyed reading this. Every little girl needs a Frances in her corner . Congratulations on getting a story published in a literary magazine! I’m sure there will be plenty more 🤗❤️
Thanks, Francesca. I still see her so clearly in my mind's eye. She was a dear person. I hope there will be more...but I'll have to write them!
I hope you do. I think you will. It’s a little thing called love ❤️
Thanks, I think I will, too. I love this thing called writing, that's for sure!
It's just the best. I've always loved it, ever since I was a little girl. I wrote a play in French when I was six, and constant letters to my grandmother who lived in England (I live in Switzerland). Then I stopped for many years, but as soon as I ran into trouble in my head, I returned to writing and wrote a book. Then I stopped again for twenty years, and got sick, and my life changed so much that I needed something to hang onto, so I began writing poetry, of all things! So random! I'd never been interested in poetry, and now I'm addicted. I'm publishing a book of poem, with my daughter's illustrations in April, and I'm so exited, and proud, too. Please write more stories about Frances and your childhood! Big hugs xx
I don't have too many stories about Frances. But that one is the an important one in understanding the pull of disordered eating in my life. I definitely have more childhood stories! It's amazing how vivid some of these memories are for me. I love your writing history. I've never been that pulled by poetry, and yet, there are poets I adore. I don't see myself ever writing it, but who knows? I'm open to possibilities. Big hugs back at you, Francesca. xoxo
I will read more of your posts. I’ve never had an eating disorder, but now I almost do because I’m not interested in food because of my IBD. Food is not fun anymore, so I eat minimally, and very much the same things over and over. I came to poetry because of this illness, there were many days I couldn’t leave the house because I was so sick. I tiptoed in through word prompts and when those ended I just kept going. I buy poetry books all the time now, my husband sees the brown parcel and says it’s my daily book! More hugs! haha! xx