Revisiting the Past
This weekend, my brother asked me to look through all my pictures, and find some of him as a teenager. He wants them for his upcoming wedding. As I looked through the 80's of our lives, shook my head and laughed at the ridiculous and closed my eyes at the shameful fashion, I wanted to know why on earth he wanted to show these to others. I want to show them to others to mock him, but I want to hoard the pictures of myself, big hair and small bathing suits, all to myself. I want to be selfish with my past.
I also looked through the 90's. I saw the picture of my first Thanksgiving turkey, eaten on the floor of a studio apartment in Tempe, AZ, with 7 or 8 friends from MFA Land. I saw all of those Arizona pictures (those of you in them know what I'm talking about), and I remembered what it was like to be in that place and writing about my parents' past. I'm sure they wanted to hoard it to themselves, too. Recently, I've talked about revisiting that manuscript, Giving Back the Girl, and I realize one huge reason I haven't yet: that means I have to open it to people more than I have. In my defense, I was asked how I felt I could write a whole book of poems about my parents, their relationship, and their deaths. I answered, with a huge hint of entitlement, "because I'm their daughter." Of course, I went on with some more academic answer, but that was it: I could, because I owned their past since they couldn't, and I didn't want to make it open, accessible, to everyone else. This is the problem with the poems in it.... at least the way I see it now.
So... it's time to dig in, open up, and bring the past back to life, so to speak. And if you're all lucky, one really bad picture of my hair back when I was 18.
I also looked through the 90's. I saw the picture of my first Thanksgiving turkey, eaten on the floor of a studio apartment in Tempe, AZ, with 7 or 8 friends from MFA Land. I saw all of those Arizona pictures (those of you in them know what I'm talking about), and I remembered what it was like to be in that place and writing about my parents' past. I'm sure they wanted to hoard it to themselves, too. Recently, I've talked about revisiting that manuscript, Giving Back the Girl, and I realize one huge reason I haven't yet: that means I have to open it to people more than I have. In my defense, I was asked how I felt I could write a whole book of poems about my parents, their relationship, and their deaths. I answered, with a huge hint of entitlement, "because I'm their daughter." Of course, I went on with some more academic answer, but that was it: I could, because I owned their past since they couldn't, and I didn't want to make it open, accessible, to everyone else. This is the problem with the poems in it.... at least the way I see it now.
So... it's time to dig in, open up, and bring the past back to life, so to speak. And if you're all lucky, one really bad picture of my hair back when I was 18.
2 Comments:
"I want to be selfish with my past." BEAUTIFUL! As you should be.
And I remember the turkey on the floor. . . :-) Our spread got considerably better as the years progressed.
It's your past, and you get to do whatever you want with it, Sue. :)
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