Our group is currently working stories from their own lives that involved conflict. The writers read their stories in class and we noticed several involved mean cousins, and everyone wrote about conflicts they had as young people. We have been loosely following a DVD course, Writing Creative Nonfiction, given by Professor Tilar J. Mazzeo from Colby college. We meet in the theater and read work outloud for feedback and then watch the DVD. Initially we found Professor Mazzeos hand gestures during the presentations distracting, but she does improve with subsequent lessons. The following is a new story by Olive Padden, one of the more experienced writers.
My Mother's Hat
When I was seven we moved to Chicago from Superior, Wisconsin. My father, an attorney(graduate of Marquette Law School) had taken a job with the Reconstruction Finance Corporation and things were looking up a little.
After an early marriage, both 21, Daddy had been graduated and then struggled in a private law firm through those depression days, but ow there was a little light at the end of the tunnel. He had quit drinking after the threat of separation forced his hand and this new job looked promising.
So my very pretty mother decided to go shopping, and bought a hat. We- Mother, Daddy and I were all in the front hall of the 2nd floor apartment on Greenview when she decided to show off her new purchase.
She reached into a paper bag, and pulled out the straw hat. Placing it on her head, she cried out, "Look John, what do you think?"
My handsome thirty year old father looked up, paused a moment and then said, straight forwardly, "It looks like a sewing basket." My mother threw the hat down the stairs and burst into tears.
I watched and listened, an onlooker to this small drama. It did look like a sewing basket, one my grandmother had, round, straw, the size of a head with a bit of trim on the edge.
But that didn't mean that Daddy gave the correct answer, very incorrect. On mothers torrent of tears he turned and walked out of the house with mama calling, "Come back, John, come back." I ran after him. He came back.
Behind this little drama was years of strain and pain. The ups and downs of living with a handsome football star trying to be a nondrinking father, dealing with the curse of his Irish family, alcohol, 3 moves and now in a big strange city. It is surprising all she threw was small and made of straw.
Olive Padden
