Savvy Women

A few days ago I was in the “Biography and Autobiography” section of one of my favorite used bookstores, a place called The Book Spot. My eyes began reading the titles on the spines of all the volumes for sale. As I did so, my head would move, from left to right, as I scanned everything on each shelf. I suddenly came across a title—Autobiography of a Face—that grabbed me and held on. The author’s name was Lucy Grealy. I reached up, pulled the book from its place among the others, and looked at its cover. Right below the title and author’s name was a black-and-white photo of a young girl holding what looks to be a semi-transparent sheet of paper over her face so that everything but her forehead and hair are hidden. I opened it, read the first paragraph, and then went up and paid the price shown on the back cover.

I finished the book last night. For a few days now, I’ve known that I would blog the book, the author, the video—a Charlie Rose interview that Grealy did back in 1994, the year the book was published and made its splash—and a few thoughts that came to mind as I was reading the memoir.

OK, so now you know the basics of the author’s story: That she had an obscure form of cancer which left her face disfigured and that she struggled (literally for decades) to come to terms with her appearance. What you don’t know, if you haven’t read the book, is that Grealy is a talented writer who has written a powerful and moving story. So, if you like memoirs or books about characters who overcome challenges, I would highly recommend that you pick up a copy.

(I just learned, literally minutes ago while doing additional research, that Grealy died in December of 2002, of what her Wikipedia page describes as “an accidental drug overdose” but elsewhere is referred to as “suicide.” Of course, this new revelation raises questions about my “characters who overcome challenges” phrase in the previous paragraph.)

A lot of things came to mind while I was reading Grealy. For one, I was reminded of my own adolescence, a period when I thought I was the ugliest thing on two legs, mostly because I was short, somewhat frail, and had terrible acne for a time. (Most people have had periods of self-loathing like this, I’m quite certain.) But Grealy’s case was really extreme, and I can only imagine what her life must have been like as she endured the teasing and taunting, coming mostly from her schoolmates, that she so vividly describes in her book.

What does it say about human nature that we put so much stock into how our faces and bodies look that simply not being considered appealing to the eyes is enough to undermine self-esteem and inevitably destroy lives? If we put half as much energy into being concerned about what we look like on the inside, this world would undoubtedly be a kinder and gentler place.

I don’t know about you, but I feel calmer just listening to the soft-spoken Geshe Lobsang Tenzin speak. He certainly is the ideal spokesperson for meditation and its benefits.

After watching this video and thinking about its message, I’m going to try to cultivate a little quietness and compassion in the weeks ahead…

Dear SWM Blog Readers,

My return flight to Cairo is scheduled for the wee hours of Tuesday, the twenty-fifth of August, which means that I’m in the last day or so of this year’s summertime visit with family and friends in Texas.

This particular trip back home was very eventful, and thus hectic, especially toward the end, mostly because there was a last-minute family emergency that has been of great concern.  Etta Merle Hausenfluck, my maternal grandmother, a woman I’ve always called “Memaw” (doesn’t that sound southern?) and someone I’ve mentioned in these blogs, has had a couple of mild strokes.  As a result, I’ve been staying with her, at her country home, and mostly off the Internet.  I suppose this is a very convoluted way of saying that I’ve been unable to put together a new blog for this week.  For that, I apologize.

Soon, though, I’ll be back at “home” in Cairo and the blogging will come easier since I’ll no longer be living on the highway or out of a suitcase as I have been doing these past several weeks.

Before I wrap this up, I would like to mention a book I’m currently reading.  It’s called Carnal Acts, a collection of personal essays by Nancy Mairs, a writer of great courage who candidly discusses, especially in the piece “Carnal Acts,” what it’s like to be a middle-aged American woman stricken with multiple sclerosis, an illness Nancy Mairs has been living with for nearly two decades.

When I bought this book, about a week or so ago now, I had no idea how apropos it would be given my grandmother’s current situation.  The book deals with the subject of illness and limitation, but not in a maudlin way.  It’s the sort of book my grandmother should read, but that wouldn’t be her way.  For as long as I can remember now, my grandmother has been more a woman of action than reflection, so reading is mostly not her cup of tea.

I’ll miss you Memaw.  I’ll miss everyone…

Troy