This is a "wander" as well as a "ponder" post since it is about an outing and a book. On July 19th, Frank and I attended a performance by Chautauquan Susan Marie Frontczak portraying the author and humorist Erma Bombeck. Chautauqua is a living history program in which performers, in costume and in character, bring historical figures to life in theatrical monologues. I told my 39 year old son about our outing and he said "Who is Erma Bombeck?"
"Who is Erma Bombeck?...Who is Erma Bombeck?!..." I cried out. When I was growing up, my mom read her newspaper column daily and loved her housewife humor. Erma Bombeck was a household word in my childhood so I looked forward to this presentation at our local theatre. To be a Chautauquan, a person must apply for the role, research it thoroughly, get permission from an authorizing educational organization, and check in with the family of the person for permission and/or interviews if they are still available.
The format of the presentation was that Susan Marie Frontczak spoke as Erma for about on hour telling about her home life, how she got into writing, and the crazy antics of her family. Told by a doctor that she could never have children, Erma and her husband adopted a baby girl. Seven months later she became pregnant with a boy and then had another son after that. She wrote a newspaper column that my mother faithfully followed, laughing aloud at the kitchen table as she read it. Here are a couple of Bombeck's book titles that I remember as a child.
Even as a young mother myself, I remember this article of hers. I've always thought the final line was a bit trite, but the rest of it resonated with me.
God Chooses Mom for Disabled Child
Written by Erma Bombeck Published in the Today Newspaper Sept. 4th, 1993
Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressures, and a couple by habit. This year, nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of handicapped children. Did you ever wonder how mothers of handicapped children are chosen? Somehow I visualize God hovering over Earth selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As he observes, he instructs his angels to make notes in a giant ledger."
Armstrong, Beth; son; patron saint, Matthew.
"Forrest, Marjorie; daughter; patron saint, Cecelia.
"Rudledge, Carrie; twins; patron saint.... give her Gerard. He's used to profanity."
Finally, he passes a name to an angel and smiles, "Give her a handicapped child."
The angel is curious. "Why this one, God? She's so happy."
"Exactly," smiles God. "Could I give a handicapped child a mother who does not know laughter? That would be cruel."
"But has she patience?" asks the angel. "I don't want her to have too much patience or she will drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wears off, she'll handle it." "I watched her today. She has that feeling of self and independence. She'll have to teach the child to live in her world and that's not going to be easy."
"But, Lord, I don't think she even believes in you."
God smiles. "No matter. I can fix that. This one is perfect. She has just enough selfishness."
The angel gasps, "Selfishness? Is that a virtue?"
God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she'll never survive. Yes, there is a woman I will bless with a child less then perfect. She doesn't realize it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider a step ordinary. When her child says "Momma" for the first time, she will be present at a miracle and know it! When she describes a tree or a sunset to her blind child, she will see it as few people ever see my creations." "I will permit her to see clearly the things I see---ignorance, cruelty, prejudice--- and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side."
"And what about her patron saint?" asks the angel, his pen poised in midair.
God smiles. "A mirror will suffice"
We learned from the presentation that as a humorist Erma was asked by a camp for children with cancer to write a book finding humor in the topic. She was initially reluctant, finding it a difficult topic, but did give it a go and visited the camp for inspiration and material. Her result was the book I Want to Grow Hair, I Want to Grow up, I Want to Go to Boise ©1989. The title came from an interview Erma had with a little girl at the camp when she asked them for three wishes. I managed to find a copy of the book; I read it and chuckled at some of the contents. For example there were races amongst teens undergoing chemotherapy as to who would "hurl" first or, in other words, "toss their cookies". Another incident describes a girl who filled the container for her urine specimen with apple juice. Just before handing it back to the nurse she drank it down saying "Oh, wait. This has to be filtered again".
I have read several of Bombeck's books and although this one does have a fair amount of humor in it, my laugh out loud response is still tempered by the topic. I am glad I read it and I think it is worthwhile reading for a glimpse into the skill of "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade". I rate it
three stars.
★★★☆☆ Better than average; not a waste of time
In case you readers have noticed, my past posts have not been published in the same chronological order as the events from whence they originated. Don't worry if you did not notice. I would not have expected you to. But here is the reason why. If I get "behind" in my blog posts, they can start to feel like "homework" I have not done. Sometimes I am not in the mood to write whatever topic is next in line chronologically, or I am not inspired by what to say about it. I gave myself permission to write "out of order" and not what "should be".
I was influenced by an Erma Bombeck from years gone by. She told a tale about when she bought bananas for the household, she alway ate the ones that were most ripe first, so they would not go bad. Meanwhile, the ones at the ripeness she preferred kept getting passed over. She was never eating bananas how she liked them and her enjoyment was diminished. I acknowledged to myself that by putting off what I wanted to write, I was not enjoying blogging about it in the moment it was most appealing. Does anyone really care if I write about those books in the order that I read them, or when I really went on an outing. I cite the date for my own benefit but does it really matter in the bigger scheme of things? Nope. Just thought I would spell the situation out in case any one noticed or cared. I congratulate myself on taking one small step away from being so anal and relaxing my standards a bit. I am now a happier camper, especially since I have confessed.
