You can choose friends, but you GET family.
Shirley Jackson relates her adventures in bringing up her children. This story continues directly from her "Life among the Savages".
On talking with foreigners
I strongly suppressed a basic superstition which came unbidden to my mind (if you talk loud enough you can make them understand) and said, very softly, “And how long have you been here, Mr. Lopez?”
He looked surprised, and thought. “Ten minute?” he said at last, tentatively.
“No, no. How long have you been in this country?”
Again he thought. “Juan,” he said hesitantly. “Juan Lopez.”
I smiled largely, and nodded. “And do you like it?” I asked.
“Oh,” he said, pondering. “Very much,” he said finally, and we both smiled, and nodded, and repeated “very much,” and smiled again.
“This is fine country,” Mr. Yashamoto said. “Very eatable food in this country.”
The end of the prison time
I realized acutely how strange it was going to be now during the long empty mornings. I asked my husband if he was aware of the fact that for eleven years there had always been one youngest child around the house all the time and he said he was only too aware of it and eleven years was longer than they gave you for anything except barratry and mayhem.
Common food
The only actual staples in the house were milk and peanut butter. These were the lowest common denominator in the kitchen; nothing else was common to all six, and yet everyone complained constantly about the food. My husband said that it cost too much, Laurie said that there was not enough variety, Jannie said that we did not have mashed potatoes half often enough, Sally just complained that she had to eat it, and Barry thought that there were not enough eggs. I myself thought that making dinner and cleaning up afterward every night was too great an effort to make if all I was going to get was complaints, and anyone who wanted to live on milk and peanut butter from now on was welcome to as far as I was concerned.
A collection of short tales about Shirley Jackson's family.
Enjoy!