oldest child

December 7, 1968

december-7-1968

Baby Boomers approached the SAT exam far more casually than millennials or gen-Xers. We didn’t hire tutors or spend Saturday afternoons in training seminars practicing multiple choice questions. We faced the exam armed only with our sharpened #2 pencils and took the darn thing cold.

Speaking strictly for myself, I didn’t even review fundamental math concepts[1] – how to determine the circumference of a circle, for example –  even though that’s the kind of information I didn’t retain then, forget now. As Peggy Sue observed in Peggy Sue Got Married, my lack of knowledge didn’t hinder me in “real” life.

I didn’t score a perfect 1600 – nobody I knew then did – but I didn’t embarrass myself.  Stanford and Yale weren’t going to ply me with scholarships but UCLA said yes (with no scholarship).  My score wouldn’t get me through their door today.

Reading my acceptance letter to UCLA in the fall of '68.
Reading my acceptance letter to UCLA in the fall of ’68.

I was good at taking tests but not great like my sisters, both of whom the state of California deemed “Gifted”.  Because of Janet’s and Joyce’s impressive IQs, the Board of Education invested considerable time and resources on the assumption I, too, might be a bit gifted. Alas, at best I was “above average” – which isn’t even in the same zip code as “gifted”.

Two of these three sisters are gifted. Who's the dummy? Hint - look for a vapid stare instead of a smile.
Two of these three sisters are gifted. Who’s the dummy? Hint – look for a vapid stare instead of a smile.

Did it bother me, being the dumbest Knutsen sister? Not as much as you’d think, since I was the oldest – so by default, the wisest. I suspect my IQ was sabotaged by my abysmal performance in “Spatial Reasoning”. How bad am I at Spatial Reasoning? I rank in the 20th percentile, meaning 80% of the entire USA population is smarter at spatial reasoning than me.

There’s always a silver lining, though.  I haven’t loaded luggage or groceries in a car trunk for decades.  I smile and say, “I’d love to help but I’m terrible at spatial reasoning – and I can prove it.”

[1] I do not recommend this approach.

December 2, 1985

december-2-1985I’d spoken to Griffin and Amy on the phone, but this was our first face-to-face. I was slightly awed by both of them. Long before I fell in love with Griffin’s performance in the sensational film After Hours, I enjoyed his father Dominick’s books starting with The Users.  As for Amy, I was a huge fan of Baby, It’s You, an indie film she produced. The fact it was based, in part, on her high school and college life made her that much more fascinating.  Not only were they a hot young producing duo, they were classy and smart with superlative taste in literature. They fell in love with the same obscure novel I did.  They intended to option the book and produce the movie. I would adapt it for the screen.

Griffin, Amy and myself with right hand in cast at my house.
Griffin, Amy and myself with right hand in cast at my house.

The Moonflower Vine, Jetta Carleton’s first and only novel, became an overnight sensation upon publication in 1962. I don’t recall how it wound up in my hands in high school.  It didn’t look like the kind of book I gravitated toward. To be blunt, it looked boring – like a plotless description-heavy  feel-good tale of a rural family.  It looked like hundreds of similar books I failed to finish after a quick perusal of the first and last chapter. (Yes, I read the end of most books as soon as I finish the beginning. I have my reasons.)

the-moonflower-vine-book-image

 

The Moonflower Vine wasn’t one of those books. I was so engrossed I read to the last page without peeking. It blew me away. Critics raved about the grace and beauty of her writing. While exquisite language is far from the first thing I seek in a novel, it doesn’t hurt. Equally if not more important than the prose, Carleton’s characters were full-bodied and three-dimensional, bursting with life and the weight of their secrets.

Despite four months on the New York’s Times best-seller list and its selection by major book clubs, the book fell out of print. The lack of a follow-up didn’t help. Aside from two paperback reissues in the 70s and 80s, it was all but forgotten.

A couple factors led to its recent renaissance. It was featured on the “Neglected Books” website which included an endorsement by Jane Smiley. Smiley cited The Moonflower Vine in her book 13 Ways of Looking at the Novel. Perhaps most important of all, voracious fans like myself read and re-read it, and recommended it to others.

I, for instance, persuaded my sisters they had to read it. They did and they fell in love too. Since the book tells the stories of a Missouri family with three living daughters, it’s not so surprising an Iowa family with three daughters related rather strongly. Jetta’s fictional family bore enough similarities to her real family that her two older sisters felt tainted and infuriated. Was that part of the reason she didn’t write another book? They forgave her before she died in 1999.

3 Knutsen Sisters (just like 3 Soames sisters in the novel!)
3 Knutsen Sisters (just like 3 Soames sisters in the novel!)

Carleton left a draft of another novel – Claire de Lune –  behind which was published posthumously. Meanwhile – in part because so many fans consider it unforgettable – The Moonflower Vine was republished to some fanfare in 2009 by HarperCollins.

I know, it looks a little dull, but it’s not. It ranks high on my personal list of “Books that Mattered” and I highly recommend it.

 

October 14, 2006

october-14-2006

Chris and Geo on stage
Chris and Geo on stage

 Before CD could apply to UCLA, he had to survive California’s community college system. PCC (Pasadena City College) is one of its best schools – but not one of the easiest. When the state cut its budget, Chris had to battle for even his most  basic courses.

playbill

For his language requirement, he chose Chinese. Unable to take Chinese 3 at PCC (due to budget cuts, not low grades) he completed Chinese under stiff competition at UCLA. This summer when we toured Russia, he astonished a group of Chinese tourists by talking to them in their language. They were so awed by the tall Caucasian speaking Chinese that they asked for his autograph and insisted on having their photos taken with him.

cdg-on-stage

His accomplishments would impress me even if I didn’t know how far he’s come. He dropped out of high school halfway through his sophomore year when he turned 16 and passed the GED. We’d exhausted every educational alternative. From private school to public school – where they whisked him into the “At Risk” program for potential drop-outs – then on to boarding school followed by another private Lutheran school.

Chris was fatally shot in the play. Note bullet hole in forehead.
Chris was fatally shot in the play. Note bullet hole in forehead.

We sent him to private therapy and participated in family therapy. I read books about how to motivate kids determined to fail. My breaking point came when I conferenced with his math teacher to supervise every homework assignment. I verified he completed every single one correctly. Each morning I reminded him not to forget his homework.  At the end of the week, his teacher informed me he hadn’t turned in a single page.

gcd-at-play

That’s when I gave up. I couldn’t read his failure to turn in completed assignments as anything but the finger. Short of going to school with him every day to ensure he handed in assignments, there was nothing I could do.

The applicable cliche here is you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink. CD’s will to fail was stronger than our will to prolong this futile battle. We felt like we just failed parenting. When friends bragged about their kid’s early admission to Yale, then asked about CD’s college prospects,  it painful to admit he didn’t get through his sophomore year.

ucla-film-class

Given all this, we didn’t expect him to perform in a college play or speak Chinese, let alone win a place in UCLA’s Film School, graduate first in his class and give a speech as Valedictorian.

valedictorian

I claim no credit for his miraculous transformation. He figured out how to change his life and followed through. His father and I always believed he was smart despite his early academic performance. Much like he opted to learn Chinese instead of Spanish, CD chose the hard way to obtain his education and succeeded against all odds.

Forgive me for bragging; I waited a long time for this. I couldn’t be any prouder of his unique journey to become the man he is today.

cdr-valedictorian

August 14, 1967



August 14, 1967

Writing Alone

Writing this in 2016, I know I was far from the only person to grow up feeling “different” – that old line about how everyone else got an instruction manual about life but I didn’t.  If anything, I’ve come to believe that practically everyone feels that way to some degree. And in fairness, I can’t say my parents ever pressured me to be a certain way – quite the contrary. They were adamant about making my own decisions, telling me not to base my choices on a desire to please them or a need to rebel.

K by the River

Given this, where did the feeling I wasn’t as good as the girl they wanted come from? I still think my sister Janet’s birth had something to do with it – they brought home another baby because I failed to be “interesting” enough.  But I’ve bitched about Janet enough. (See Kathy vs. the Alien Baby for more.)

Naturally, I tried to conceal my less than admirable character traits. Sometimes I successfully hid them from myself. It’s still a struggle for me to recognize anger, for example. I was well aware of other negative tendencies – jealousy, sloth, vanity and greed for example – but did my best to keep them under wraps.

Sooner or later they all slipped out, though – because you can’t hide your secret self forever.

July 29, 1980

 

July 29, 1980

Me with Chris (I only called him CD in my diaries) in 1980
Me with Chris (I only called him CD in my diaries) in 1980

John and I were the first to get married and have children in our group of friends – consequently, Chris grew up surrounded by adults. It’s not surprising that he identified early with grown-ups; the last thing he wanted to be was just another child.  When he was around other children, as in the school situation described above, he wanted to assume an adult role. Helping me enforce order on the other children running down the mountain was a perfect outlet.

Once, when he was still under ten, a friend attempted to seat him at the children’s table with his brother and sister and younger cousins.

Not A Child! he said.

He was, to me, like I suspect all children are to their mothers, the most adorable and intelligent little boy / young adult in the world.

CD (Chris) in 1980
CD (Chris) in 1980
Another picture of CD in 1980
Another picture of CD in 1980

 

June 29. 1964

June 29,1964A_edited-1
 The News Edited

June 29, 1964BOh,Gosh!
Have you ever noticed how in virtually every fairy tale since the beginning of time, the oldest sister(s) are ugly harpies and the youngest is so clever, kind and beautiful – so gosh darn special – that she always wins Prince Charming’s heart? Sometimes older siblings have no plot function or personality at all – they exist only to make the hero a youngest child.

This blatant favoritism for the youngest sibling didn’t die with old-fashioned fairy-tales like Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast. It’s alive and well in contemporary fiction –  Ron Weasley is the youngest Weasley brother and Ginny (the youngest) becomes Harry’s wife in Harry Potter. Ender is the youngest of three in Ender’s game. Alyosha, the youngest, is the most morally pure of the Brothers Karamazov.

The purpose of fairytales and myths is to teach children about life. What lesson is an oldest child supposed to take from this bias? No wonder I look so ticked off in childhood photos of the three of us. The subliminal message in myth and lit was I didn’t count in this story. I was a stage prop, meant to do something venal and stupid and exit to make way for the chosen one, the good one – my youngest sister Joyce.

 

UH-OH. LOOKS LIKE JANET JUST FIGURED OUT SHE'S GOT A SHIT PART TO PLAY TOO, SINCE SHE'S NO LONGER THE BLESSED YOUNGEST. HURTS, DOESN'T IT?
UH-OH. LOOKS LIKE JANET JUST FIGURED OUT SHE’S GOT A SHIT PART TO PLAY TOO, SINCE SHE’S NO LONGER THE BLESSED YOUNGEST. HURTS, DOESN’T IT?

 

If you’re interested, there’s a list and explanation of this trope at

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YoungestChildWins

And if you’re in the mood for some sisterly snark, follow these links to either or both of these photo galleries – My Two Years and Two Days of Bliss (link) and Kathy Vs. the Alien Baby. Pictures don’t lie!

It was all about me.