Shuggie Bain

I just finished a book.

Yes, I am doing my annual reading challenge on “Goodreads” but wised up a bit. No longer will I sign up for “100” books to be read by the year end. Like I did in 2019. Way too much pressure. Although, I did, in fact, meet that challenge! Since then I’ve lowered the bar. Real low.

When I was a little girl a book could transport me to another world. My world was perfectly fine but it was mine. And tiny. To get lost in a book to learn about other places and things was truly a wondrous journey. I never understood why everyone wouldn’t want that very same experience.

The same applies to me as an adult. My world is still quite small. Comparatively speaking. So I gobble up the words of authors from everywhere else. And I do not ever shy away from stark reality in my choices.

My 31st book of 2023 was Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart.

It strikes an Angela’s Ashes’ chord. Seems like everyone read that book and remembers it being riveting, tragic, heart-breaking, etc. An experience we personally never could have known. Details from the story might not be recalled decades later but the takeaway still remains indelible.

Douglas Stuart’s descriptive writing leaves a person fuller. Hopefully, their heart and mind. Not happy. Very important distinction. Fuller.

The story is set in Scotland and told in the language of the time. Today I told a Scottish friend, Gillian, that her translation skills sure would have come in handy. But the meaning of most phrases and slang can be parsed from context. It takes place during the 1980s in post-industrial Glasgow.

You visualize what the area looks like after collieries have been shut down, men without the ability to care for their families and the resulting ripples of poverty. The author’s writing paints such vivid landscapes that I could envision myself standing on the edge of town amidst the defunct mining community. To understand the lengths a person would go to feed their children or keep them warm. And the lengths a person wouldn’t go to feed their children due to addiction. It’s gray, bleak and despairing. It’s also filled with the utter love and devotion of a child for his mother.

The story weaves the abject poverty and addiction with threads of racism, religious bias and homophobia. None of this should have anyone hanging their mouth in surprise. It’s all around us and not a new thing.

What’s new is that it’s told in a different light. A snapshot in time about a place many of us do not know. This book helps us connect many dots beginning with economy. It also allows us to view the depth of addiction and love in a newfound way.

Frank McCourt, the author of Angela’s Ashes, believed that his students should, “Write what you know. Use words you know.”

Douglas Stuart did exactly that. And then he shared his heart-breaking story with us.

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Nothing New

My daughter sent me a news article today. About two young people that were swept away from the shore into the waters of Northern California.

She said, “This is the brother of my friend. And she lost her father a year ago.”

Oh my!  I didn’t even know how to respond to that.

My God!

I still don’t know how to respond to that.

Life is so very precious. We are here one day. Young, vital and strong.

And then that happens.

I cannot imagine the pain of losing a parent and sibling in the same year. The pain of losing either at any time is horrific enough.

I cannot imagine a woman losing her husband and child in the same year. That is enough to make anyone insane.

We let our children out there in the world. It’s the natural way. We hope they will heed every last warning we excruciatingly exhaled in the last eighteen years. But the fact of the matter is that we do let them out into the world. And that is what we need to do.

Yes, upon hearing news like this, we should hug them tightly and tell them we love them.

But we should always be doing that.

Nothing new there.

Prayers for these families with the hope they will soon recover their loved ones. 😦

 

 

 

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Grandparents

You get to a certain age and there is a lot you don’t remember. But there is still a lot you do.

I remember when my cousin’s German grandmother died in Brooklyn. It was the summer of 1980. I was sixteen.

My dad and I drove to New York to attend the wake and funeral. Mom was in bed with a slipped disc and the brothers stayed home with her.

I remember my cousin, who was six years older and mourning the loss of her beloved grandmother, saying something like, “You’re fortunate. You still have your grandmother Kelly. Make sure you appreciate her.”

I loved my grandmother and spent time with her but my cousin’s words always stayed with me.

Spent every Thursday evening after work with my Nana. We would catch up and then watch the sitcoms on the television.

I would pop in on her for a cup of coffee.

Or just call to say, “Hi.”

When I moved from the area we would write letters.

I was fortunate.

She died at the age of ninety six.

If you are fortunate to have living grandparents then please take the time to enjoy them.

Or if you still have your parents with you, appreciate them but also make sure that your children know them.

If you cannot appreciate them you might be very surprised at how your children can.

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