There have only been two people in my life whom I have ever given consideration over myself. My daughters, Laura and Mary Kate, are the only masters I have served. This notion was put to the test as I was writing “You Can’t do Both”. Periodically throughout the two year process of writing a rough draft of the book my two girls would sneak a peek into Dad’s new hobby. “If you ever publish this crap I will really be pissed. I will never speak to you again if you keep the stuff (lies) about me in there. I don’t care because I will never read one word of that shit anyway.” Verbatim, those were three separate individual quotes I heard from my bosses. It was clear to me they were not tongue and cheek remarks, but rather, not to be taken lightly, hostile threats ready to be executed.
Loving my girls as I do, I took a hard and serious look at what I had written to measure the merit of their protests. After doing so I went as far as to make direct concrete changes and deletions to the transcript before the pre editors viewed it. I was trapped in a dilemma- was there validity to their concerns or was it just teenage anxiety? After making some adjustments I decided not to give the dynamic duo another look at my prose. I sent my rough drafts to the publishers and awaited the hard copy book and the response from my two girls. In typical Mary Kate-fashion she declared she could care less about the stupid book because not only was she not going to read a word of it, neither was anyone else. That left Laura, a girl with a kind heart and sense of fair play well beyond her 18 years. She did read the final version (probably only the dialogue pertaining to her) and afterwards laid down a decree, “I am not speaking to you for awhile and if someday you would like to return to speaking terms, do not ever mention the book in my presence.”
That declaration was made in May, and while myself and Laura are communicating, I am living with her law and have avoided uttering a word around her in reference to my career as an author. These last few weeks Laura has been on my mind with a heaviness I have never experienced. My baby girl who always had one foot into her next adventure, and a presence of worldliness that made her father so proud started her new life as a freshman at Florida State University. As much as I always knew Laura was never long for a world that was anywhere near Kingston, New York I am still confounded at the rack of emotions that her departure has caused for me. Through my tears and reflections I have given much thought of trying to understand the pain that the words in my book caused her. In comparing my upbringing to the way I have brought up my girls Laura felt I portrayed her unreasonably as a pretentious overindulged shallow beauty queen. She was upset that I not only embellished the story but completely fabricated some of the references to her and MK. I attributed the statement, “Pot roast is the poor man’s steak” to Laura, when in actuality it was me who said it. That is just one example of a few that gave Laura justification in her anger and lack of support. To add fuel to the burning book fire, some of the fears she had regarding the way she was depicted came to attrition. “Wow Laura, your dad really trashed you in his book.” and “Hey Laura, Paris Hilton can play you in the movie!” were some of the comments she heard in the hallways at school.
While I am sorry that Laura feels as she does, and truly believe she will feel differently someday, I do not regret the means I used to get a message across. I am fearful my kids had too much too fast. I do wish they could stay in the moment and not concern themselves so much with what is next. I worry they will not live the lifestyle that they have become used to. While I want their lives to be easy and carefree, I’d like them to understand the true test of a person’s character isn’t determined until they take a hard punch to the gut. I wrote my story about the Generation Gap over two years ago and in that passing time Laura has developed into a more grounded young lady than her own dad could have ever imagined. Flying with Laura to college I look out the window and into the clouds. I could see myself that August day way back in 1978, alone, driving a 1969 Ford convertible to Allentown, Pennsylvania. That was the boy fighting back tears, heading to Muhlenberg College. He didn’t know a single person there and was leaving his comfortable life behind. I could only shake my head as I gazed at Laura. I saw my girl at 18 so far ahead of the confused and angry 18-year-old that her dad once was. That Sunday evening in her new room in Tallahassee, Florida, it had gotten to be the dreaded time to say good-bye. I unsuccessfully fought back the flood of tears that I had predicted to myself would not flow. As a puddle of salty water formulated into the hands that covered my face, I could feel my knees growing weak. I had to make my way to her bed to be seated. My beautiful daughter, who I have the audacity to worry so much about, wrapped her arms around me. ” It’s going to be fine Dad, I love you. I promise everything is going to be alright.”
