Jilie’s Blog
Did all of you drive your parents as nuts as I did as a little kid?
Here are some scenes of what a Terrible Enfant I surely was, in my world, cleverly getting what I wanted.
Or dying. That ought to get Mommy and Daddy’s attention!
I had unusually strong aversions, such as my fear of bananas and attractions, as my near worship of Mrs. Harris,
my best friend’s mother. I loved her so much I stole her angel, and she forgave me.
Each is written first in English, then in French, so if you’re French, have fun finding my goofs.
CARTOONISTS SQUEEZE OUT OUR TRUTHS
I have always loved the great cartoonist, Robert Osborn’s book, Osborn on Leisure. Published in 1956, its drawings tell the story of humanity’s terror of leisure, leading to our getting all bound up like Gulliver with Lilliputian strings until we “speak as fools.” His...
THE WEIRD SCARF GAME
At age three I was enrolled in Detroit's famous Merrill Palmer Nursery School on Ferry Street. I hated it. It was a research center for child behavior in an old mansion that looked like a witch’s den. Fittingly, we were subjected to the game ‘Giants and Fairies.’ When...
INTO THE CLOSET
DANS LE VESTIAIRE I'm not quite ready to leave childhood.At six, I was a talker, laughing easily. Mrs. McDonald reprimanded me."Julie, pay attention to your own arithmetic- don't reach across the aisle.""But Donald is showing me a funny picture he's drawing of a dog...
THE MEDAL
By 12 I must have had some redeeming
WHEN MY BROTHER DIDN’T CRY…
QUAND MON FRERE NE PLEURAIT PAS… My older brother George was a bully, bottling up his tenderness. His scorn for me ended up in a “Hate your Sister Club.” When our family Springer Spaniel died I cried for a week, inconsolable. One day a stray, skinny mutt followed...
Kleptomania of the Soul
“Mrs. Harris gave this to me.”
Killjoy
Rabat-joie There I sat at the counter all alone day after day relishing a hot fudge sundae. My father had sent me to school with a note to the fourth grade teacher. “Please let Julie cross the street at lunchtime to Brown’s Creamery for ice cream for her sore throat...
Suffocation
L’Asphyxie Theories of Development, Wm. C. Crain, Prentice-Hall, Inc. 1985 Carrots were part of our dinner that night. Suddenly, from my bed, I started screaming. “I can’t breathe! Help! I’m dying.” My parents came running, as fearful as I was. “I’m choking! A carrot...
Anatomy of a Mental Illness, Prelude to Episode #1
L’Anatomie d’une Maladie Mentale, Prélude à Episode #1 I hated eating. There I was at the dinner table, just skinny me, 6, and Mommy, coaxing bites into me. No pesky brothers. I was fascinated with a face I was making on that glass plate with the cream cheese. My...
Fighting over Baby Jesus
Se Disputant à Propos du Bébé Jésus We were literally pulling baby Jesus apart by the head and legs. Wasn’t it my turn to set him in the Crèche just where I knew he should go! George my brother said no, I had done it last year. Mother had to rescue the tiny santon, as...