Hell Is Other Parents
Page 16
“Nah, that’s okay,” says Jacob. “I think I’m just going to stay here and chill with my friends. You’re not mad, are you?”
“Of course I’m not mad!” I say, without adding the obvious: I’m just sad. Profoundly, desperately sad. My eldest, the bar mitzvah boy—it suddenly hits me hard—doesn’t need me anymore.
“Ice cream?” says Leo, holding my face in his muddy hands for added emphasis. “Ice cream! Ice cream!”
“Okay!” I say, kissing his mud-caked nose, his young, needy, stinky, tantrum-throwing, glorious toddler self. “Let’s go find your sister and get some ice cream!” And as my baby hugs me back, nuzzling his filthy cheek into the crook of my neck, I silently throw a shout out to whichever kid from Warsaw he’s replaced.
Acknowledgments
I don’t actually believe in hell—or in heaven, for that matter—but on the off chance I’m wrong, here’s a list of those who should be admitted to the latter and why:
Barbara Jones, for her pitch-perfect red (but sometimes, magically, blue) electronic marks;
Ellen Archer and Pam Dorman, for commissioning this book, thereby keeping the Kogans from eating cat food;
Lola Bubbosh, for calling Ellen and Pam;
David McCormick, for being Ricky to his client’s Lucy; Gillian Bagley, for her smarts, heart, and art;
David Remnick, for saying yes to the raw scribbles that begat this manuscript;
Henry Finder and Carin Besser, for transforming said scribbles into potable prose (here’s how they would edit everything after that last comma: “for editing”);
Daniel Jones, no relation to Barbara, for reworking “A Sign of Love” with the author as she lay in a hospital bed, sliced open and high on morphine, not that she remembers much of this;
Elizabeth Beier and Dani Klein Modisett, for sparking the final essay by indulging a middle-aged woman’s stand-up fantasies;
Raymond Mosley, for allowing his tenant to pay the rent on her office late late late;
Kevin McLaughlin, for keeping the Vespa safe from both vandals and cops;
J.J. Abrams, for inviting a dying man to a sneak preview;
Richard Copaken, for showing us that grief can be endured with a smile; if there is a heaven, he’s definitely up there, buying popcorn and a Diet Coke at the Pearly Gates Multiplex and bragging about his grandchildren to the poor schmuck sitting next to him;
Margie Copaken, for insisting on tea and scones during the darkest month;
Jacob, Sasha, and Leo Kogan, for keeping their mother honest (“I didn’t say, ‘Can I eat my lunch first?’ I said, ‘Can I eat my chicken first…’”); for granting her permission to discuss private matters publicly, with the caveat that they had final say over every story, sentence, comma, and fornicating lemming; and for giving her three excellent reasons, every day, to keep her head out of the oven;
Paul Kogan, for putting up with his wife and her pen for nineteen years and counting, and still claiming, unbelievably, to love her;
And Josh, Kammi, Brad, Abby, Dave, Robin, Eddie, Meg, Richard, Patty, Paul, Martha, Adam, Tad, Amanda, John, Aleksandra, Abigail, Marco, Nora, Nick, Esther, David, Simone, Jennifer, Ed, Frank, Rebecca, Matt, Julie, Paul, Ellen, Stephen, Katie, Anne, Larissa, Philip, Eric, Diana, Monique, Oliver, Ian, Mauzi, Burt, Ayelet, Michael, Jonathan, Amy, Heidi, Ben, Michael, EB, Jackie, Andrew, Ann, Peter, Suze, Marc, Betsy, Sarah Jane, Michael, Annie, Faulkner, Andy, Olivia, Susan, Maria, Tom, Jennifer, Donald, Janny, Bill, Amy, Flip, Lisa, Ray, Katie, Steve, Julianne, Ward, Maia, Darren, Jen, Todd, Julie, Laura, Marilyn, Barry, Kipp, Anne, Deb, Gustavo, Deb, Mark, Jim, Vanita, Josh, Geula, Marni, Bruce, Peter, Susan, Jamie, Michael, Joe, Katherine, George, Bess, Celia, Sharon, Steve, Dan, Lindsey, David, Andrea, Julie, Toby, Carolyn, Marion, Luton, George, Irina, David, and Lisa, and many others I’m sure I’ve forgotten, for being the Others who disprove the entire premise of this book.
About the Author
Deborah Copaken Kogan worked as a war photographer from 1988 to 1992, the period covered in her bestselling memoir Shutterbabe, after which she spent six years as an Emmy Award-winning television producer, first for ABC News, then at Dateline NBC. Her writing, photography, and documentary work have since appeared in many places, including the New Yorker and the New York Times; O, The Oprah Magazine; and on CNN. Her first novel, Between Here and April, was published in 2008. She lives with her husband and three children in New York City.
ALSO BY DEBORAH COPAKEN KOGAN
Shutterbabe: Adventures in Love and War
Between Here and April
Copyright
“King of the Mountain” originally appeared in The New York Times Magazine
“Sundance Stage Mother” originally appeared as “Stage Mother” in The New Yorker
“A Sign of Love” originally appeared as “La Vie en Rose, the Takeout Version” in The New York Times “Modern Love” column
“Hitler’s Love Child” originally appeared in the anthology Afterbirth: Stories You Won’t Read in a Parenting Magazine
HELL IS OTHER PARENTS. Copyright © 2009 Deborah Copaken Kogan. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Hyperion e-books.
Adobe Digital Edition July 2009 ISBN 978-1-4013-9454-7
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
1. Like his mother’s name, also changed.
2. Not her real name.
3. Not her real name.
4. All the names in this piece have been changed.
5. These, unlike the women’s names, are actually the real names of three male friends.