EXCERPT FROM A BRIE GROWS IN BROOKLYN
Yesterday, I called my parents’ house by accident. They haven’t talked to me since I wrote a blog post about my mom back in June, but I still have their number in my “favorites.” The call went through to voicemail, and I immediately hung up.
A few minutes later, my little sister messaged me, asking me if I had called. “Yeah by accident,” I wrote.
“Yeah, mom said never pick up,” my sister wrote.
Which confirmed what I already knew — I’ve been excommunicated.
I have never been so grateful to live 800 miles away from my family.
If I were still in New York, I know that I would not be invited to the cold, bizarre rituals that my family conducts around the holidays, and that I would also feel devastated by the exclusion. Caleb doesn’t understand why I would even want to travel 40 miles with two children to have a plate of microwaved boiled vegetables, but he doesn’t understand what it’s like to not be loved by your family. In Savannah, I don’t care if I’m not invited because I couldn’t go anyway.
A lot of people are writing articles about what will happen to Jared Kushner and Ivanka Trump when they leave the White House. People are saying they won’t be accepted back into New York society. LOL. As if people in New York society are good, decent people. I know from my experience working at an elite art gallery that in fact, the more evil, corrupt and perverse your behavior, the more loved and respected you are by the rich and famous.
-Excerpt from A Brie Grows in Brooklyn