succumbing

Pushkin and russian museum

I’m succumbing to February, much as I hate to admit it.

Got to get outside — that’s the only way out.

Finished After Visiting Friends, which I liked a lot. My father died when I was four (although of cancer, not of visiting friends), and that feeling as a child of the weight of the missing parent lying over the household, and that you would be disloyal to ask any questions at all — that you had to pretend everything was normal and fine when you knew it wasn’t — was familiar. My mother quickly remarried, which made it feel even more disloyal to think back to times before the remarriage.

It really does seem like life was so much more difficult in those days. People no longer regard cancer as a thing that can’t be talked about. Death is still hard, but I would think you would no longer think things would be made better by not talking about them, nor would you pretend it had never happened.

Although, actually, a person I know who grew up in a very similar situation and is divorced with two kids is marrying a woman, also divorced with two kids, and he seems to have a very Sound of Music sort of idea about the whole thing. I look at his daughter, the youngest of this bunch, and think, you poor kid. T is like some cheerleader for the new family unit. Luckily, their mother’s significant other has no kids at all. I’m not saying this can’t work — just that I think it works a lot better if you allow the kids to have some reservations, or even just thoughts, about the whole blended family business.

Ugh. Also, my head hurts.

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7 thoughts on “succumbing

    • I really did — have you read it yet? I thought it was pretty interesting, both as a personal story and then something a bit larger, i.e. newsmen in the 60s. I like reading non-fiction about worlds you would otherwise know nothing about.

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