(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll
call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- all about my psychotic brother and his
legacy. If so inclined, please share, and tell me what you think. . . )
MY CHARMED LIFE
(I even get to meet my writing idol and inspiration, Mr. Tom Wolfe, at the Southampton Writer's Conference in 2004. . .)
One memorable conversation with Tom went pleasantly. He was in a good mood. “I’ve made peace
with my God,” Tom said. “And, uh,
we’re in a good place.” He
continued, saying how his faith was stronger than ever and that he was doing
well. His poetry was coming along,
he was liking what he wrote, and some of it was getting published, even.
He asked me about copyrighting, and I said I’d done some of
that with the proper forms and all, but that maybe it was just as effective to
mail copies of work to yourself, certified mail, and not open it. I’d heard
that might work, but hadn’t confirmed that with a reliable source. On the conversation meandered.
Then, it took a strange turn. “Laurie, I heard you and your husband were laid off and
you’re worried about money. I
could send you a ten,” he offered.
“Oh Tom, thank you. That’s very generous. But we need jobs, not a quick
fix.” The idea that ten dollars
could help when the mortgage and bills came to around three grand a month was
laughable, but at least his heart was in the right place. I wonder what he was
thinking when the next words came out of his mouth:
“Laurie, you know, you haven’t really lived up to your
potential.” If he’d stuck me in
the eye with a hot poker, it probably would have been just as hurtful. What could I say to that? Did I say, Tom, you know, I’m still
trying? Did I say, that’s your
opinion, schmoe -- and hang up?
Did I say what, do you mean you haven’t lived up to YOUR potential? I don’t remember.
Suffice to say, I probably got off the phone as quickly as I
could and mulled it over. I know
it made me resolve to try even harder, to work even more at making something of
myself in what I do best, in the talents God gave me: music and writing. It also made me angry, sad, and feel
really low. . . the nerve of him saying that! Like I need a kick in the pants?
Maybe. . .
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