{"id":72932,"date":"2014-06-20T15:58:07","date_gmt":"2014-06-20T19:58:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=72932"},"modified":"2014-06-20T15:58:07","modified_gmt":"2014-06-20T19:58:07","slug":"dont-hold-back","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/06\/20\/dont-hold-back\/","title":{"rendered":"Don\u2019t Hold Back"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Dan-Dailey-1987_Romance\"<\/a>

Dan Dailey, Romance<\/i>, 1987<\/p><\/div>\n

Each member of my family has quirks and foibles. I stomp my foot like a cartoon furious person when I lose my temper, and I once humiliated myself the one time I attempted the road test by waiting ten minutes to turn at an intersection, panicking, and nearly hitting an oncoming car. My brother pulls a weird, unconscious face whenever he passes a mirror; he will never live down the years he spent, as late as the first grade, refusing to wear clothing. My dad is mocked regularly for getting ketchup all over his face and for insisting on down jackets in seventy-degree weather. And then there\u2019s my mom\u2019s thing. It\u2019s probably very unwise of me to write what I am about to write while I am staying with my parents<\/em>. But I am, like pope emeritus Benedict XVI, a Servant of the Truth.<\/p>\n

Although she\u2019s an excellent cook and great company, my mom is a nervous hostess. She finds the demands of guests and meal-planning onerous\u2014terrifying, even. By the time dinner is served, she has generally worked herself into an anxious frenzy. I\u2019m sure most people at the table can\u2019t tell; to her family, the signs are unmistakable.<\/p>\n

At some point in the meal, a wild look will come into her eyes. Her hands will clench. It is as though she is possessed. A conversation may be in progress; someone may be mid-anecdote. It matters not. As though powerless to prevent the words, she will suddenly declaim:<\/p>\n

\u201cDON\u2019T HOLD BACK. THERE\u2019S MORE OF EVERYTHING!\u201d <\/p>\n

Conversation will cease; guests will thank her politely; things will resume. Having gotten that off her chest, she subsides into more or less normal behavior. Ideally, on these occasions, my brother, Charlie, will be at the table and I can meet his eye.<\/p>\n

At a recent barbecue, Charlie ended up seated next to her. And at a certain point in the meal, her hands began to tense spasmodically. We saw The Look overtake her. \u201cDon\u2019t do it. Don\u2019t do it<\/em>,\u201d my brother muttered to her, but it was too late. And this was one of those occasions when, in fact, there was not enough steak, so it was particularly awkward. Because that\u2019s the really weird part: she\u2019ll say it whether it\u2019s true or not<\/em>.<\/p>\n

When it\u2019s just the family, Charlie or I will usually shout my mother\u2019s line before she has a chance to deliver it herself. Ideally, we try to do it at the least opportune moment\u2014when someone is telling a story or confessing something personal. In fact, one or the other of us shouts the line whenever we eat together.<\/p>\n

My mom will get really sad when we do this. In fact, she\u2019ll do what we call \u201cthe sad face,\u201d which combines the dolor of the Pi\u00e8ta Madonna with what my dad calls \u201ca sense of profound disillusionment.\u201d I am not proud to reveal that this only serves to increase our glee.<\/p>\n

But this isn\u2019t about cruelty; there is the pleasure of insularity, of complicity, of shared history. There is the reassuring sense that nothing ever changes. At least nothing truly important. There is, indeed, always more of everything.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Each member of my family has quirks and foibles. I stomp my foot like a cartoon furious person when I lose my temper, and I once humiliated myself the one time I attempted the road test by waiting ten minutes to turn at an intersection, panicking, and nearly hitting an oncoming car. My brother pulls […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":178,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13115],"tags":[14368,11382,14367,14366,115,14364,14363,14365],"class_list":["post-72932","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-our-daily-correspondent","tag-dining","tag-eating","tag-families","tag-foibles","tag-food","tag-hostessing","tag-hosting","tag-quirks"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nDon\u2019t Hold Back by Sadie Stein<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"June 20, 2014 \u2013 Each member of my family has quirks and foibles. 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