{"id":30941,"date":"2012-05-03T16:30:08","date_gmt":"2012-05-03T20:30:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=30941"},"modified":"2012-05-04T14:20:42","modified_gmt":"2012-05-04T18:20:42","slug":"dear-sally-draper-maybe-wait-a-few-years-to-read-this","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2012\/05\/03\/dear-sally-draper-maybe-wait-a-few-years-to-read-this\/","title":{"rendered":"Dear Sally Draper, Maybe Wait a Few Years to Read This"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>Dear Sally Draper, <\/p>\n

\nYou know what\u2019s weird? You could be my mother. <\/p>\n

\nI mean, you\u2019re not, obviously. My mom\u2019s a ginger and Jewish, and her sixties childhood was really quite different from yours, what with her not having Don Draper as a dad or Betty as a mom, and her not seeing her step-grandmother go down on Roger Sterling in the back room at an American Cancer Society Benefit. <\/p>\n

\nSo yeah, sucks to be you. <\/p>\n

\nBut what if things had gone differently? What if my mom had stayed with that painter who looked like Charles Manson and once punched my grandfather in the face, and my dad had met you instead among the bohemians inhabiting seventies Jerusalem, drinking wine on Old City balconies, discussing poetry and politics, and inhaling the sweetly mingling odors of bellflower and frying falafel? <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\nHe would have impressed you with his British accent and vast knowledge of World War II trivia, and you would have seduced him in the Draper style\u2014with few words and a whole lot of eye contact; with damaged intensity and sartorial chic; and most likely with the sexual abandon of an unloosed American, finally free from the watchful glare of her overly protective father. <\/p>\n

\nCut to 2012. You\u2019re sixty now, the mother of me\u2014or some half-Draper version of me: slightly less bald and with a slightly smaller schnoz, but way more fucked up\u2014chilling in the suburbs and buying shit on Etsy. And even though I\u2019m thirty, I still come home sometimes and sit on your lap and say, \u201cTell me about Grandma?\u201d and you say, \u201cShe started wearing a fat suit and then one day disappeared,\u201d and I say, \u201cTell me about grandpa?\u201d and you say, \u201cIf the cigs hadn\u2019t killed him, then the guilt eventually would have,\u201d and I say, \u201cTell me you love me?\u201d and you say, \u201cLove is for fairy tales and pop songs. In the real world we just make do with whatever numbs the awful pain of being alive.\u201d <\/p>\n

\nIt\u2019s funny, we just celebrated the publication of The Complete Poems of Philip Larkin<\/em><\/a>, a dude who wrote a lot of lovely stuff about death and window treatments but is mostly remembered for this one little rhyme about how your parents fuck you up even though they mean well. And Larkin was right about a lot of shit\u2014man does hand down misery to man, the invention of the pill was paradise, death is no different whined at than withstood\u2014but I think he was being a bit generous when he said that your parents aren\u2019t intentionally trying to fuck you up. <\/p>\n

\nTake Peggy\u2019s mom, for example, basically insuring her daughter\u2019s misery by meanly making her feel like unmarriable trash just because her dorky Jewish boyfriend is taking things a little slow. Or what about Megan\u2019s father, pretending to be Jean-Paul Sartre in those glasses like he\u2019s an honest to god Frenchman and not just a silly Canadian, and making inappropriate dinner comments for the sole purpose of making his daughter tense and miserable. And I won\u2019t even start in on your own parents, Sally, what with all the cheating and yelling and not paying attention and leaving you alone with that cunty Mrs. Francis as babysitter. <\/p>\n

\nBut let me quote another of the great poets, Tupac Shakur, who blames his mother for turning his brother into a crack baby but urges all the fucked-up children o not let their traumas keep them down: \u201cEven though you\u2019re fed up\u2013HUH!\u2013You got to keep ya head up!\u201d <\/p>\n

\nI\u2019m writing this on May 1, and summer is coming to New York. I\u2019m writing to you, Sally, from my office at a large university where I teach kids slightly older than you how to express themselves creatively in the form of short fiction. In a couple hours my class will commence and we\u2019ll celebrate the semester\u2019s end with a bottle of Diet Coke and some Entemann\u2019s. Pathetic, yes, but that\u2019s how it\u2019s done. Class hasn\u2019t started yet, though, and right now I can see the students out my window, looking happy in the street below with their guiltless cigarettes and summer fashions, smiling and flirting, and it gives me hope. Because these kids come from shitty families, too, and a fucked-up America. These kids were born with cell phones strapped to their little wrists, born into a country under George Bush, raised by nannies and the Internet, left alone with access to all kinds of smut and snuff films before they\u2019d even learned to read. And you know what? Despite it all, they seem pretty okay to me. <\/p>\n

\nYou\u2019ll be okay too, Sally. Ten years of analysis and you\u2019ll be good as new. Until, then keep Tupac in mind. <\/p>\n

\nWith mad love from the future,<\/p>\n

\nAdam <\/p>\n

\nAdam Wilson is the author of<\/em> Flatscreen<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Dear Sally Draper, You know what\u2019s weird? You could be my mother. I mean, you\u2019re not, obviously. My mom\u2019s a ginger and Jewish, and her sixties childhood was really quite different from yours, what with her not having Don Draper as a dad or Betty as a mom, and her not seeing her step-grandmother go […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":40,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1160],"tags":[6980,680,6818,676,2253,7352,6979,7353],"class_list":["post-30941","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-on-television","tag-betty-draper","tag-don-draper","tag-george-bush","tag-mad-men","tag-philip-larkin","tag-roger-sterling","tag-sally-draper","tag-tupak-shakur"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nDear Sally Draper, Maybe Wait a Few Years to Read This by Adam Wilson<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"May 3, 2012 \u2013 Dear Sally Draper, You know what\u2019s weird? You could be my mother. 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