Memoir synopsis
U.S. and Them: A Re-enchantment of an American Childhood is the story about what I did while I was waiting on the Apocalypse. The memoir recounts the days of my youth in Bridgeport, Connecticut, during the wildly-charged times of the late 60s and early 70s--in the fallout of the Cold War. My parents were John Birchers and charter members of the Orthodox Roman Catholic Movement. They were well-intentioned; they were the people who loved me. We had $15k of freeze-dried food stockpiled in a trailer at an undisclosed location in upstate New York and, in the wake of Vatican Council II, we headed into basements to hear traditional Latin Mass. We were people of God, family and country values, informed citizens living in volatile times, a minority, aware that the world was on the brink. In other words, we were people who were measuring the time until the Communist takeover and the apocalypse by our watches.
The memoir constitutes a lament for my youth, my reaction to being cast into a doomsday world, my answer to the problem of living with so many unspeakable questions. It also constitutes a re-enchantment of utterly buoyant hopes--rituals of obsession--mine and my parents'. Hope, despair and pure pandemonium. Everything I needed to know about distrust of happiness I learned by the age of 10. As an adult looking back, the memoir calls my attention to the the fundamentals: Life wants to go on. Like water, happiness seeks its own level. Children need just a crumb to produce a cake.
I have also come to see that the times I grew up in were not so unique. If we raise children in an air of doubt or worry about the future, we rob them of happiness in the present and this can alter them in fundamental ways. As for me, beneath all the mischief that erupts and colors the book (the minor physical injuries and the minimal property damages incurred as the result of special effects, both literal and emotional), I was always just longing to connect with what I imagined as 'the real world' --even though I didn't expect life on earth to last very long. But I'm still here. Sigh. And as I look back on this work I am humbled. Tempered. Writing this memoir has given me gratitude. I found happiness in unexpected places. Come along. Let us celebrate life for the love of it. Thanks for your interest.
The memoir constitutes a lament for my youth, my reaction to being cast into a doomsday world, my answer to the problem of living with so many unspeakable questions. It also constitutes a re-enchantment of utterly buoyant hopes--rituals of obsession--mine and my parents'. Hope, despair and pure pandemonium. Everything I needed to know about distrust of happiness I learned by the age of 10. As an adult looking back, the memoir calls my attention to the the fundamentals: Life wants to go on. Like water, happiness seeks its own level. Children need just a crumb to produce a cake.
I have also come to see that the times I grew up in were not so unique. If we raise children in an air of doubt or worry about the future, we rob them of happiness in the present and this can alter them in fundamental ways. As for me, beneath all the mischief that erupts and colors the book (the minor physical injuries and the minimal property damages incurred as the result of special effects, both literal and emotional), I was always just longing to connect with what I imagined as 'the real world' --even though I didn't expect life on earth to last very long. But I'm still here. Sigh. And as I look back on this work I am humbled. Tempered. Writing this memoir has given me gratitude. I found happiness in unexpected places. Come along. Let us celebrate life for the love of it. Thanks for your interest.