www.familydramalikewhoa.com

My third book was “the Glass Castle” by Jeannette Walls.  Nattawan would not rest until I had read it, even going to the point of requesting it for me on my library account!  I am so glad she did.  This book is SO good.

“The Glass Castle” is Walls’ memoir of growing up in a crazy world, with a family life that none of us would ever consider possible.  Her book details her childhood in memories of chaos, and confusion and yet, full of life.  It describes her father, a drunk yet charismatic man who loved her but did not know how to care for her, her self-centered mother who inspired pity, and her and her brother and sister who would survive for days without eating, and if lucky, got one bath a week.  Stories of selfishness, stories of survival, and stories of struggle.  And yet, through it all, the special relationship of a brilliant yet crazed father who could convince Walls she was the luckiest girl in town.  It takes a true writer to craft words so that you can feel the confusion of emotions that they did in their memory.  Walls did that. 

My favorite story included in the book is one where her father is determined to take his kids to the zoo to show them that no animal is dangerous if you know how to handle them.  The children are dirty, hungry and their father is possibly drunk, yet as a child, Walls made a beautiful memory of it.

“Dad squatted outside the fence opposite the cheetah.  The animal came closer to the bars and studied him curiously.  Dad kept looking at him…the cheetah looked back.  Finally, he sat down.  Dad stepped over the chain fence and knelt right next to the bars where the cheetah was sitting.  The cheetah remained still, looking at Dad. 

Dad slowly raised his right hand and put it up against the cage.  The cheetah looked at Dad’s hand but didn’t move.  Dad calmly put his hand between the iron bars of the cage and rested it on the cheetah’s neck.  The cheetah moved the side of his face against Dad’s hand, as if asking to be petted….

We climbed under the chain fence and knelt around Dad…by then a few people had begun to gather.  I knelt close to the cheetah.  My heart was beating fast, but I wasn’t scared, only excited.  I could feel the cheetah’s hot breath on my face.  He looked right at me.  His amber eyes were steady but sad, as if he knew he’d never see the plains of Africa again.

‘May I pet him, please?’ I asked Dad.

Dad took my hand and slowly guided it to the side of the cheetah’s neck…the cheetah turned his head and put his moist nose up against my hand.  Then his big pink tongue unfolded from his mouth, and he licked my hand.  I gasped.

‘I think he likes me,” I said.

We climbed over the chain.  When I looked back, the cheetah was following us along the side of the cage.  Before we could make our way through the crowd, a heavy man in a navy blue uniform came running towards…shouting about regulations and how idiots had been killed climbing into cages…

Dad nodded and…led us through the crowd and toward the exit.  I could hear people around us whispering about the crazy drunk man and his dirty little urchin children, but who cared what they thought?  None of them had ever had their hand licked by a cheetah.”

Throughout the book, I was continually amazed.  How could a daughter whose money was stolen by her own alcoholic dad, who had no clothes except ones she pinned together because they were falling apart, who ate a stick of margarine and dug through trash to try to get any nourishment, still love her dad?  Walls does not try to define it with psychological grandeur, but simply shows it with memories.

The book got me to thinking about families, and the problems that all of us have.  As I discussed with my friend Kristin somewhat recently, no family is perfect.  We tried to think of a single friend that had that perfect, all-American life.  We couldn’t.  Our childhoods certainly weren’t pain-free.  What would my life be like if my father hadn’t passed away when I was eight?  What memories would I have?  He was a wonderful man and I have amazing memories, but there are also memories of sadness when he was sick.  Would I be the same person if I didn’t have those memories, or experiences?  I don’t believe I would be at all.  While we were nothing like poor in this book, we definitely did not have a lot of money, and my father never graduated from high school.  His dream for my brother and I was to go to college, and the money that we received from social security when he died, provided us with the means to do so.  You can never truly ask the question, 'what if?', because it never leads anywhere.  You simply have to try to learn from the life that was given to you.

Everyone has memories of childhood that have shaped them, whether good or bad.  Read this book to see the amazing story of how 3 children overcame years of neglect and abuse, and also confused love, and became a story of survival and triumph.  Highly recommended.  (Thanks Nattawan!)