The Hypocrisy of Disco

I picked up The Hypocrisy of Disco thanks to Badger, and I have to agree with her overall assessment. I almost didn't bother, because I was afraid the book would be too much like The Glass Castle, which put me off memoirs for a long time, but Clane Hayward never offers up any sort Poor Me feelings the way Jeannette Walls did.

Hayward is completely matter of fact about her childhood, even though there was a lot of sadness involved. She often didn't have enough food. She was regularly filthy. She realized once later, when an uncle's girlfriend was washing her hair, that no one had touched her lovingly or tenderly in a very long time--that's the saddest thing for me right there. My parents were super-young when they got married, and spent a lot of time living as super-young people in the late 60s and early 70s did (there are plenty of snapshots to prove it), but my sister and I always knew we were loved. Yes, there was plenty of alcohol and more than a few illicit substances involved in their Harley driving, Big Brother & the Holding Co. lives, but my parents held our hands, held us while we slept, kissed our sweaty heads, and made us bathe. Sure there was macrame and wheat germ and whiskey in my tea when I was sick, but I had a home and parents who loved me and took care of me when I was sick.

Did I sometimes wish we were more normal? Sure. I wanted to be "straight" as much as Hayward did--but reading this book makes me realize how close to straight we actually were. It's a good book, and sometimes a fun book, and I feel enormous respect for Hayward.

And now I want to go hug my kid and call my parents.