She repeatedly in the book claims that Suzie is "going through a phase" and that's the reason why she doesn't take her daughter in for treatment. She was high on the rainbow when things went well for her-or when she thought it was going well for her-and made everyone around her suffer when it didn't. It is a good book, but I did not like the ending. But the kindness and patience of the doctors and nurses and other staff members bring the tamped-down pain to the surface for inspection and to provide comfort to those who are suffering. The desire to be left alone and to continue your self-destructive tendencies is shown here quite plainly to the reader. Her struggles to reclaim her ability to walk, talk, and eat are also interesting to me. It is unique in the way the main character disassociates herself from the real world and into her own nirvana where nothing hurts her. But I get a perverted pleasure from reading the emotional, physical, and mental struggles of children as they cope with being beaten down by the ones they are supposed to look to for guidance, support, and love.īlack-Eyed Suzie is an average book. I do not condone child abuse in any way, shape or form. Some of my recent favorites: Doubt, The Drowsy Chaperone, Eggs. What do I do when I'm not writing? Visit friends, ride my bike, sometimes with John, sometimes not. Despite John's gray hair, he still looks twenty years old to me. Ah, young love! Since that time, we've had one adventure after another together, raising children, one daughter and two sons, and our love is still young. I married him quick before he had a chance to get away. During my college years, I met my husband, a young man named John with a cute smile and a wonderful sense of humor. This much amazed my grandmother who said I lived a charmed life.Īfter graduating from Radnor High School, I attended Temple University, graduating with a music education degree. I've heard that that's called taking notes.Įventually, despite engaging in various activities called play that periodically involved knocking myself out, I grew up. Chances are, I wrote about it, too, in the diary I kept all through my childhood. Well, maybe I didn't do my homework, but I read. I was smart, but, boy, you couldn't tell it by my grades. Went to school, which I really hated, but somehow managed to get through anyway. I did things like take music lessons and play relievo or baseball in the sideyard with the neighborhood kids. I was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, grew up outside of Philadelphia with two parents, along with a wild assortment of brothers and sisters and cats and dogs.
I was born in a log cabin in Illinois - no that wasn't me!
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