 | | | | Jancee Dunn on parents, children and 'normal" |  |
|
Families are odd, odd things. Oh, not my family, the one I created, my two boys and me. We’re great!
I mean my other family — the one that includes my mother, father and sister.
I won’t get into too many of the particulars of what went on in that tiny brick house in Queens, blessedly close to the best park in New York City besides Central Park and on a block teeming with a bazillion kids so there was always someone to play with.
Suffice it to say that for the longest time I didn’t realize that no one else tore paper napkins in half (to make the 260-count package last even longer? Who knows?); that other families weren’t watching black-and-white TVs whose screen was split in half, with one half showing whatever program was on upside down (years after everyone — really, everyone — had a color TV); and that going to the airport a few times a month to hang out on the observation deck watching planes take off and land wasn’t exactly considered entertainment by most people.
There are a lot of things you can control in life and a lot you can’t. The family you’re born into is one of the “can’t” things. I always thought that everyone else’s family was a bit more “normal” than mine, but this was based solely on my gut (and since I'm lactose intolerant and have other, um, GI issues, perhaps this isn't the best gauge). It wasn’t until I got older and started asking my friends and interviewing people as a journalist that I realized that everybody’s family is odd. There is no normal! Still, I certainly never expected to find a family that shared some of the same quirks that mine have — until I did.
When I heard about Jancee Dunn’s new book (with one of the best titles ever), “Why Is My Mother Getting a Tattoo?: And Other Questions I Wish I Never Had to Answer," I knew I wanted to read it. When I read her essay about how her parents send her newspaper clippings — just like mine constantly do — I knew I wanted to interview her.
Dunn interviewed the rich and famous for Rolling Stone for many years. Since then, she’s written for the New York Times, Vogue, GQ and O: The Oprah Magazine; was an MTV2 veejay; and wrote two books, the novel “Don't You Forget About Me,” and her memoir of her rock ‘n’ roll years, “But Enough About Me: A Jersey Girl's Unlikely Adventures Among the Absurdly Famous.” A blogger for the Huffington Post who lives with her husband, writer Tom Vanderbilt ("Traffic: Why We Drive the Way We Do (and What It Says About Us)"), and their baby daughter in Brooklyn, New York, Dunn was kind enough to dish family with me.
Her essays are filled with humor and Woody Allenesque family discussions, and populated with the kinds of people you, too, would want to sit with on a couch and watch campy horror films — even if you've always hated campy horror films.
Sure, she has an endearingly quirky family — as do I, as do most of us. I guess I’ll have to accept that the family I’ve created will prove itself to be just as quirky (believe me, there are signs already!). Then again, someone has to keep the next generation of shrinks employed!
But I haven’t begun clipping newspaper articles to give to my teens — yet.
Q: I always thought I had a quirky family, and everyone else’s was “normal.” When did you realize that your family wasn’t like everyone else’s?
A: When I was young, I was embarrassed by my family. I felt like people in other families didn't eat the freaky foods that we did (biscuits from a can, sugar sandwiches) or have the kooky traditions that we did. I just thought other people had more dignity. When I got older and moved to New York City, I realized that although we were quirky, we weren't dysfunctional. Hailing from a functional family was sort of a novelty in New York City. And now that I've written a few books about my family, I hear from people all over the country who say 'I have a family just like yours.' There are more kooky-but-close families around than I thought.
Q: Most teenagers go through a rebellious period, but some have a pretty nice relationship with their parents. Were you as close to your parents in your teens as you are now?
A: No! No, no, no. I fought with them a lot when I was a teenager. There was a lot of screeching in the Dunn house, believe me. They were extremely strict. My mother would leave us lists of chores and sign it with 'The Management.' When I hit my twenties, we all grew closer. Now we talk every other day and even vacation together. My husband is very patient when they tag along.
Q: One of my family’s many quirks is sending me newspaper clippings, too. I keep reminding my parents that I’m a journalist, and pretty much read the same stories way before they send them to me in the mail, but that hasn’t stopped them. Do you worry that this sort of stuff is genetic?
A: I just started sending clippings around myself! It's inevitable! Don't fight it! You, too, will find yourself reaching for the scissors! Usually what I seem to send fall in the category of 'what will people do next?' Oy, vey.
A: With such a close family, why were you so ambivalent about having children?
Q: Because I had what I felt was a wonderful life, one that I had worked hard to get: I wrote books — my dream in life — wrote for great magazines, traveled all over the world, loved to explore New York City, had many close friends ... I could go on. I never felt like your life had to necessarily be completed by children. I still don't. It's certainly not for everyone.
I was very afraid of losing my freedom, my identity, the joy I took in my work. And I got weirdly fixated on the idea that I'd never be able to read the paper cover to cover again.
Q: Now that you have a daughter, what has she taught you about mothering, yourself and life in general?
A: I just read the paper cover to cover this morning while the baby had a nap. I mean, really — what a silly thing to fixate on. But since I've had the baby, I find myself blathering all the clichés that I've heard a million times about being a parent ("it's so different when it's yours!") I've found that she could fit into my life just fine, and that in fact my life has expanded and gotten richer. Every day brings a fresh surprise, and that has been surprising to me. For instance, it shocks me that a tiny person who is 2 months old can have such a funny personality. She has a sense of humor! Also I find I talk more to total strangers. The world is much friendlier. People love babies and that has been so fun.
Q: We all sort of fear becoming our mother, and then at some point something comes out of our mouth that horrifies us and we realize, too late! It’s happened! Have you started turning into your mother?
A: Oh, I am there. I'm there. The other day I was talking to her and both of us had our hands on our hips in the exact same way. And at the time ... oh, Lord ... I remember we were talking about the importance of getting enough vitamin D in our diets. I've found I've started to get excited by the same things that she does: fiber, shopping at Target, anti-aging moisturizers.
Q: I was touched by what your friend Lou says, that as we get older, our parents become our best, most loyal friends and then we have to think about losing them. Is that something you worry about?
A: Constantly. It's so easy for people to dip in and out of your life these days, isn't it? I rarely have phone conversations anymore — I just trade e mails with my friends. When the phone rings, it's inevitably my parents. And I'm glad, because a phone conversation is so much more satisfying and intimate to me.
Everyone is so busy-busy-busy, and some friends drop out of sight for months, or even years. But not my parents. You get older, and you're so very, very glad that someone cares that you went to the dentist, and calls you afterwards to find out if you had any cavities.
Q: You talk of how your mother regretted not asking her mother more about her life, and how that made you want to tape your grandmother to capture the “absolutely mundane.” But when we’re younger, we’re so self-absorbed that we can’t even imagine our parents having a life beyond us, let alone think about asking them about their youth. How will you pass on your stories to your daughter?
A: You know, you made me think. I've been tape-recording the baby's gurgles lately because I've been told by a million parents that time zips by. And I've 'interviewed' my parents — they sit next to me as I write their answers into a computer — but I have yet to tape record their answers. I have to do that right away, so that my daughter can hear their actual voices. You're right: when you're younger, it's self-absorption that stops us from wanting to preserve their stories. Then when you get to my age — I'm in my early 40s — I've just found I'm in deep denial that they're getting older, that 70 is approaching. Recording them is a tacit acknowledgement of that, isn't it?
Q: When you accepted your mom’s desire to get a tattoo, something you thought was “reckless and foolish,” and the fact that you couldn’t talk her out of it even though you were “certain” you knew best, you said it was a handy preview of parenthood. What do you mean by that?
A: I meant that I overestimated my own power! I was certain I could persuade my mother to change her mind. I have to prepare myself for the fact that my daughter will not always bend to my will.
Q: We can pick our friends and partners, but we can't pick our families. So many people have complicated relationships with their families. What makes your family work?
A: We tell each other all the time that this is a golden period and we are very much aware of that: we are all in good health. My folks are still active and engaged. We all live near each other. We absolutely take nothing for granted. I've been around too many tearful friends who recently lost a parent and were eaten up by regret at the time they spent brooding about insignificant slights that seemed so important and dramatic at the time.
Q: What kind of family do you hope your own family, with your husband and daughter, will be like?
A: I hope she will like travel, and books, and old movies, the way my husband and I do. And — since I'm so used to it at this point, let's face it — I hope we're always in each other’s business.
|
|
|
<< Back |
Add New Comment |
|
|
adobe store I really liked this! Great job! |
|
|
|
| |
