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Sep. 20th, 2008 10:57 pmToday I did quiet family things. It makes such a difference to my well-being. I was going to give you a medical update, but really, it's not that interesting. Let's just say that the minute I stopped having to cook and clean, things improved. If it keeps improving at this pace, I shall be bouncy and bubbly for Conflux. Even if it slows down, I shall be well enough to entirely enjoy Conflux. Also I shall be over confessionalism.
Yes, confessionalism. My family is having to deal with the cortisone. Cortisone makes me tell dark secrets. (I wrote my Conflux speech under the influence of megacortisone - and it will tell stuff I've never talked about in public before - the horror!!) My poor family. I tell them their dark secrets and they are coping. Counting down the days til the cortisone is gone and I return to courtesy and civilisation, but coping.
I don't mean to do this - it's as if I'm all kinds of raw and stuff just spills out. After tomorrow, I'm down to 25 mg a day and ought to have some writing energy back and can maybe spill this emotion into my ghost novel a little, and spare the family.
My brother-in-law has a different ability, and it's not drug-dependent. It's a special kind of talent for geneaology and related subjects. He has entirely solved the murder mystery.
My grandfather's second wife's family was indeed closely involved. First her son died (I think it was her son - I had it clear a few hours ago, but I stupidly didn't write it down) then the three year old son, then the five month old daughter and the mother was tried for murder of the 5 month old, but was acquitted. What a tragic year for the lady and what a terrible thing for the remaining son, who is only a relative of mine by marriage. It was the big controversy in the Jewish community at the time, which is why I'm not giving any names. These people must still be hurting.
How could I not have known about it earlier? Simple. My father didn't speak to his father for many years after his parents divorced. Also, the family believed very strongly that gossip was not something to be passed down the generations. There's a kind of statute of limitations thing: we're just reaching the stage where these matters can be talked about.
This turns out to be why there's so much discussion of the pre-WWII Jewish population and their tales (1950 is as recent as any of the gossip goes, casually) because the hurt can't be passed on and so it's time to pass on the history because it gets forgotten. This is that discourse I was talking about the other day, the one that started off with singing dogs.
Elsa Davis' younger years have passed the statute of limitations (and her other years are being formally researched, because she was a rather important person in many ways, which is a different phenomenon entirely). I'm learning about affairs and murders and abuse and strange things: a few years ago the most exciting family story was probably the white line painted across the floor of a factory because of a squabble, resulting in two brands of socks being created where one previously existed.
This is all being writ a bit larger than gossip because my family is a researching family. We verify and validate and know where to find material. I checked and yes, the Polack who was Dean of Dentisty at Melbourne University in the 1920s was a relative, as was a well-known New Zealand writer of the same name. The habit of checking things out and thinking things through goes back at least 4 generations in my father's family, basically. No wonder this discourse got started.
So what does this mean? It means that we check old newspapers and records to find out more - we don't just talk about things. We add caveats to stories unless we can demonstrate them. It turns out I am so much more a product of my father's family than I ever thought!!! I'm just not very good at doing establishment-y things, with the same mindset.
On another note, for lunch we had nice, hot chapattis stuffed with quark, fresh baby artichokes in my stepfather's special sauce, salad vegetables and blood oranges.
Yes, confessionalism. My family is having to deal with the cortisone. Cortisone makes me tell dark secrets. (I wrote my Conflux speech under the influence of megacortisone - and it will tell stuff I've never talked about in public before - the horror!!) My poor family. I tell them their dark secrets and they are coping. Counting down the days til the cortisone is gone and I return to courtesy and civilisation, but coping.
I don't mean to do this - it's as if I'm all kinds of raw and stuff just spills out. After tomorrow, I'm down to 25 mg a day and ought to have some writing energy back and can maybe spill this emotion into my ghost novel a little, and spare the family.
My brother-in-law has a different ability, and it's not drug-dependent. It's a special kind of talent for geneaology and related subjects. He has entirely solved the murder mystery.
My grandfather's second wife's family was indeed closely involved. First her son died (I think it was her son - I had it clear a few hours ago, but I stupidly didn't write it down) then the three year old son, then the five month old daughter and the mother was tried for murder of the 5 month old, but was acquitted. What a tragic year for the lady and what a terrible thing for the remaining son, who is only a relative of mine by marriage. It was the big controversy in the Jewish community at the time, which is why I'm not giving any names. These people must still be hurting.
How could I not have known about it earlier? Simple. My father didn't speak to his father for many years after his parents divorced. Also, the family believed very strongly that gossip was not something to be passed down the generations. There's a kind of statute of limitations thing: we're just reaching the stage where these matters can be talked about.
This turns out to be why there's so much discussion of the pre-WWII Jewish population and their tales (1950 is as recent as any of the gossip goes, casually) because the hurt can't be passed on and so it's time to pass on the history because it gets forgotten. This is that discourse I was talking about the other day, the one that started off with singing dogs.
Elsa Davis' younger years have passed the statute of limitations (and her other years are being formally researched, because she was a rather important person in many ways, which is a different phenomenon entirely). I'm learning about affairs and murders and abuse and strange things: a few years ago the most exciting family story was probably the white line painted across the floor of a factory because of a squabble, resulting in two brands of socks being created where one previously existed.
This is all being writ a bit larger than gossip because my family is a researching family. We verify and validate and know where to find material. I checked and yes, the Polack who was Dean of Dentisty at Melbourne University in the 1920s was a relative, as was a well-known New Zealand writer of the same name. The habit of checking things out and thinking things through goes back at least 4 generations in my father's family, basically. No wonder this discourse got started.
So what does this mean? It means that we check old newspapers and records to find out more - we don't just talk about things. We add caveats to stories unless we can demonstrate them. It turns out I am so much more a product of my father's family than I ever thought!!! I'm just not very good at doing establishment-y things, with the same mindset.
On another note, for lunch we had nice, hot chapattis stuffed with quark, fresh baby artichokes in my stepfather's special sauce, salad vegetables and blood oranges.