“To see them.”
The young man leaves the room and you begin to say your prayers. You remember the days she said them with you, her hand on your shoulder, gentle and almost frightened, as if she was scared to break you, as if she was scared the world would. She knew you would have to be strong.
Acknowledgments
I always wanted to try to write a book and it has taken a lot of people to get me to the final page. I must thank my agent, Betsy Lerner, my buddy who possesses many rare attributes, including the gift of real friendship and that rare thing, the kind of generosity that actually desires great things for her friends. My editor, Carole DeSanti, has taught me—I wish I had learned this years back—that the best editing is done with a whisper. She has offered a rock-solid foundation of advice, edits, and encouragement, along with the time to do one more draft.
The writing of this book has been a relay, and every time I fell and lost hope there was someone to pick me up and carry me to the next day’s work. The bane of writing is self-doubt; the gift is friends, real friends, who save you. Kathryn Shevelow and Sara Switzer, both fabulous and wise critics, have been there for me every second since page one. So has Ann Patty. I have felt them strongly in my corner; what a gift, lasting and true. Lauren Lowenthal, a brilliant woman, demanding in the best and most helpful ways, showed up just in time to get me to the end, kicking and screaming. Jennifer Barth, well . . . thank you, Jennifer, for so many things, including your readings and endless aid to the cause, my cause. I am grateful to you and for you. Nancy Collins: Thank you for your considered comments, your love and humor, and, most of all, for the title, which I recognized immediately when you uttered it.
There are so many more to thank: Adrienne Brodeur, Betsy Cornwall, Walter Owen, Beth Kseniak, Johnathan Wilber, Rux Martin (who edited the first draft), Deanne Urmy, Edward Shain and Laura Popper, William Middleton, Debbie Engel, Rob McQuilken, Casey Schwartz, Marie Brenner, and Steve Weinberg. Amanda Urban has been a great booster for years. Vanessa Mobley, Terri Karten, Jonathan Burnham, and Helen Atsma also helped provide the confidence to get to Bettyville and back.
Anthony Shadid continues to inspire me every day; I so wish I could thank him in person. Lucinda Baker has been my partner in tough times and a wonderful cousin. Carol Crigler has given endless support to my mother and to me. For decades now, Paul Giorgianni has put up with my complete looniness and tendency to forget appointments. Lastly, Raj Hodgman has been a great partner in the labor, despite a weak bladder and the tendency to howl.
Thank you, Viking, all of you, for buying this little book and rising to support it. I appreciate the work of Chris Russell, Roland Ottewell, Paul Buckley, Hal Fessenden, Nancy Sheppard, Gina Anderson, Carolyn Coleburn, Paul Slovak, Clare Ferraro, and everyone who helped me bring these pages home.
Author’s Note
Memoir and memoirists labor under suspicion and I wanted to fess up about cosmetics used and make some reassurances. All conversations quoted here occurred though sometimes—intentionally or because of the tricks of memory—have been combined or moved in time. Digressive discussions have been shortened. There has been editing, but not at the cost of essential accuracy.
For reasons of privacy and respect, the names and details surrounding some of the characters have been altered. A few very minor characters are composites.
The imposition of structure to any story, I have discovered, alters realities. Scenes plucked from the fabric of life are changed, inevitably, when removed from a larger context. Nuances of character are sometimes lost to the considerations of narrative. I regret that, but have done my best to remain fair, generous, and faithful to truth. Still, this is only my Bettyville, created from memories filtered through time, arguable perceptions, and my own consciousness. Other travelers may have their own stories, thoughts, interpretations. My greatest wish is to hurt no one, though I believe we are often the most triumphant when revealed at our most human.