Thursday, July 14, 2022

Mark Twain said, “Write what you know.”


 

Mark Twain said, “Write what you know.” I have done that for many years; writing about computers and accounting, but it is hard to be emotional about either one. My latest book, Murder at the Magic Kingdom is about two things I know well; all things Disney and an older brother who I thought would murder me someday. He once left a message on my answering machine that if I ever returned to Escondido, he’d kill me. This was after Mom died and I played it for my dad who said that Stan sounded drunk, but he’d make sure it wouldn’t happen again – and it didn’t. I didn’t return to Escondido until after Stan died in 2014. The saying, “Never speak ill of the dead” since dead people can no longer hurt us, or defend themselves, it is better to forget their bad actions and remember only their good ones. But what if there were no good ones? 

I don’t have any pleasant memories of growing up with my bully of an older brother, Stan. Some might remember that I had a silver front tooth; my brother hit me and broke my bottom front tooth right after the permanent tooth had grown in. Later, I got a natural cap. I’m claustrophobic from years of being shoved and locked into a small built-in closet. My folks said I bruised easy, had constant bloody noses, and ran into a lot of things – but oddly, this all stopped when I moved far away after I grew up. I never lived in Escondido again.

You might wonder about my parents; how could they allow this? Stan was handsome, charming, and adored by my parents. He was a crafty liar and had tons of good friends and lots and lots of girlfriends. He beat up his first wife and she ran away with her baby daughter to Texas and never returned. His second wife left him constantly after beatings, but would also return to him; she loved him too much to stay away. He was a charmer.

I was the opposite; gangly, shy, stuttering, and a constant crybaby. I had big ears that Mom tried to hide, an overbite from sucking my thumb, and terribly uncoordinated. Mom used to say that if you looked at me cross-eyed, I broke out crying or claimed I was so clumsy that I’d trip over a bobby pin in the carpet.

No wonder my parents loved Stan more. I look at this picture and see myself biting my lip and holding my hands together. Along with everything else, I constantly shook, a tangled mess of nerves – so I hid it by holding my hands together. Somehow, I outgrew it all. My head grew into my big nose and ears. I got braces, played athletics and to this day, do yoga to improve my balance. I worked on the stutter, and forced myself to speak up for myself – almost to a point where I never shut up now!

 Stan and I were one IQ point away from each other – at least that is what my mother said when she explained that my A’s and Bs and Stan’s Ds and Fs had nothing to do with brains. I was good in school; I did my homework, studied for tests, and tried to be the teacher’s pet; desperate for some validation. 

If you know some kid that is getting bullied by their sibling; please intervene and stop it.  It is not okay.   I use the pain of my childhood to write to help middle school kids get through what was the most difficult part of growing up. 

If you’re interested in critiquing my latest book, Murder in the Magic Kingdom here is the link where you can read the PDF version for the next month while I’m getting various friends to peer review it before sending it off to editors.  

https://www.yogaiteach.com/MurderattheMagicKingdomPDF.pdf

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