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[url=http://www.bookrags.com/research/peyton-place-sjpc-04/]Peyton Place by Grace Metalious | St. James Encyclopedia of Popular Culture[/url] Peyton Place Grace Metalious Grace Metalious published Peyton Place in 1956. It was the first novel for Metalious, who was thirty-two at the time, a homemaker with three children and a high school education. Metalious had lived in New Hampshire her entire life, and it is widely assumed that she based her novel on her experiences growing up. Peyton Place is set in the late 1930s and early 1940s. The primary character is Allison MacKenzie, a teenager whose mother, Constance, owns a dress store. Constance claims to be widowed but eventually it is revealed that she never married Allison's father. Other major characters in the novel are Betty Anderson, Allison's beautiful and flirtatious classmate; Rodney Harrington, a spoiled rich youth; Selena Cross, Allison's best friend, who comes from an impoverished family; and the new school principal, Michael Rossi. The novel interweaves many stories as it reveals the dirty secrets of many of the townspeople, particularly Allison's illegitimacy and Selena's rape by her stepfather, whom she murders. I want to start a thread on secret keeping and the why of it.. Why a woman would continue to keep the secret of giving a baby up for adoption and why she may not tell her husband her mate... Or her children.. Such a big part of a persons life and no communication.. no sharing of the grief.. Why? I think its about fear.. Fear of being talked about singled out.. Fear of being caught.. Losing face.. (that was biggie for my mom) I do not think it is the actual content of the book that applies to this discussion IMO it is the fact that the reaction to the book was extreme.. For Grace Metalious to actually write down and publish this exposure of secret and lie keeping was shocking.. That we actually messed up as human beings was verboten in those times.. And sex (getting caught) was really wrong.. [url=http://www.enotes.com/peyton-place-salem/peyton-place]Peyton Place Review - Grace Metalious - Salem on Literature[/url] Shortly before Metalious published her novel, her interview with Hal Boyle was published. Reporters immediately invaded Gilmanton, aggressively questioning everybody. In reaction, Grace’s husband, George Metalious, lost his position as principal of a local school. Public retaliation included threatening phone calls and letters, a death threat, and persecution of her children. After its publication, Peyton Place became a best-seller, attracting widespread condemnation as obscene. Metalious further enraged opinion by denouncing small-town bigotry and bohemian conduct. Her book was banned in Fort Wayne, Indiana, and was blacklisted by the Rhode Island Commission. The Canadian Revenue Commission prohibited its importation as “of an indecent or immoral character.” The woman stood up and wrote what was happening to all of us and this was the reaction.. her husband lost his job.. (And that was one of the greatest fears in my life.. No money no food no place to live..) Now take this to a woman that has gotten pregnant and gives up her baby in secrecy.. Does not see her baby.. Redeems herself and pretends it all away.. Do not talk about it.. that was the message sent loud and clear.. Loud and clear from the family when the child is relinquished.. Loud and clear when pretending the pain away.. Do not talk about it and all will be well and all things will be well.. I bought into that for a fair amount of time.. I did not tell my sister..I babysat her son when her son was the same age as my son.. and did not feel one feeling.. shut down woman.. (re-reading this I actually remember the not feeling) Years later when my bson was 21 I finally told my sister.. Her reaction on the phone (did not have the courage for face to face) was a non reaction.. I had gotten the guts up to tell and she did not react.. I cut her off after that.. and maybe that was part of me getting better.. I finally told one of the most important persons in this life of mine and she did not react.. I shut it down after that for a while and then went for therapy and told the therapist.. thinking it was not really that important.. Not really the reason why I was shut up in my home.. I told her and she told me I had not grieved the loss of my son.. I had never ever thought of this.. I did not think I was supposed to grieve.. I thought it was not allowed.. It took me years to finally surface with this and talk normal about it and accept the thoughts of others on this.. Soooo lets discuss.. Any questions will be answered.. Jackie
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Jrainbow wrote From Wake Up Little Susie.. Rickie Solinger.. Page 93 Chapter called.. The Girl Nobody Loved. In postwar America, a child in trouble was not a private sorrow. This child was a public humiliation, evidence of parental, especially maternal, failure in the form, for example, of the latchkey kid heading towards juvenile delinquency or the unwed mother. One unwed mother in a Denver maternity home observed, “[Before my pregnancy] I’d been the living proof that they were good and successful parents. No matter how I tried to make up for my mistake in the future, their life together would always be clouded by a feeling of failure.” The public and professional insistence on the centrality of maternal role to white, middle-class culture rendered mothers extraordinarily vulnerable, since success in the role depended on embracing --all at once-- such a high degree of self-denial, self mortification, and responsibility… Failure.. and so much judgment in those years.. From page 3 in the Introduction section of the book.. Regardless of race, they were defined and treated as deviants threatening the social order. Single, pregnant girls and women of whatever race shared the debased status of illegitimate mother: a mother with no rights, or a female who had, according to the dominate culture, no right to be a mother. For Sally and Brenda and the several hundred thousand girls and women in the situations each year between 1945 and 1965, illegitimate motherhood was a grim status.. A grim status to be avoided with all costs.. And there was Peyton Place and we were shown what happens if the woman keeps the child and the secret.. and how the whole things twists and turns and secrets and lies rule the day.. And what I see today is that some women (and I am sure men) are still there.. And the one relinquished in that time have to deal with the consequences of all of this.. We broke the rules.. I broke the rules.. and the rules were so awful.. I could have used birth control pills in the mid sixties.. but I did not dare go to the doctors to ask.. and heck Solinger said that unmarried women were not allowed them anyway.. But I was afraid to go.. I was afraid of the shame.. I was breaking rules but I did not want the consequences.. I was not strong enough to be responsible.. was not strong enough.. Ha.. I was strong in the end.. The judgments of others was such a big thing in those days.. It was like the dark ages of human understanding.. I did not want the judgment of the doctors.. authority.. And that elephant can do harm.. I did not tell my sister when I gave my bson up.. and it separated us.. I stopped writing her and when I moved back to Toronto we were not close.. and I found ways to be angry with her.. and I was jealous.. I got no help.. I did not ask for help.. I just kept it all put away and did not understand that a person can get human love when stuff like this happens.. It took me a long time to break down the barriers.. Jackie
It wasn't until after my reunion with both bparents, that I realized that the fact of me was a huge secret - that even now, 50 years later, can cause embarassment for them.
They are both open but certainly any time they explain me, they are confessing to "sins" from the distant past.
It was astonishing to me that they even want to be a part of my life after realizing this. I listened as my bmom told about me to others and was amazed at the personal questions that people felt were ok to ask - since they knew her big secret. I know the reactions that they have both had from others has ranged the spectrum from embarassment to interest to emotional support.
For my bmom, she had given up the secret years ago to close friends. But in her own hometown, for most of her adult life, she said that the secret of me was the elephant in every room.
Susieloo wrote Those quotes from Solinger.. and how keeping the secret kept them from feeling the failure was something I never really consciously thought. but its true.. I was a failure and they were a failure.. and pretending it away was the way of it.. And at what cost.. and I think of the leverage that this business of failure gave.. There are women (men) today still in that secrecy mode.. That was the way out.. wasn’t it.. how to get a husband in five easy lessons.. All wrong again.. I wanted a husband in the early sixties.. I failed and got the life long sorting of how to give a baby up in secrecy and learn how to cope.. I took my bson to meet my dad in the nursing home.. Dad was good with meeting him but I was not allowed to ‘gossip’ about it with his friends in the home.. Such a thing.. I tried to talk about him with my dad on the phone.. but there was mostly silence when I told him something new that had happened in my reunion.. Yes.. We are all so different.. I was hidden away.. in Boca Raton.. I worked till I showed and then we got a motel room and I told everyone that my husband was in Viet Nam.. Jackie
as much as my parents would have liked me to have played the game and kept my daughters birth secret, it was not in me to do so. Sure there were plenty of people I never told...but that was more about not bothering to go there with them.
The only person that I agreed to keep it secret from was my paternal grandmother. My parents were both scared of her harsh condeming tongue! You see my mum was pregnant when she married my dad, and apparently grandma was pretty harsh and jugmental about the whole thing...and mum didnt want to have to listen to it. But you see, what grandma didnt know that we all knew, was that she was pregnant with my dad when she got married!! She didnt even celebrate her 50th wedding anniversary because we might work things out.Ha...everyone knew anyway....and didnt care.
So she was the only person I had to break it to. Sitting her down at 89yrs of age was so hard. She had all her faculties at that age! I had a photo and everthing. She was mortified!! But not at the fact I had had a baby, but at the fact that everyone else seemed to know but her!!!!!!
My bdaughter and her did meet once b4 grandma died. I treasure the memory of watching her help grandma accross the road after we had all been to see a play my other children had been in.
As I said at the beginning....I didn't care what any one said, and was protecting my mum by keeping the 'secret' from grandma!! I had to spend my first xmas away from home carrying my secret! She was due a couple of weeks later so I had to make up some story about working! So Grandma was preggars, mum was preggars and I was preggars!!! They got to keep their babies coz they married the fathers. I didn't. I was proud of my tummy, and proud i had a baby it Was just that I wasn't supposed to be.
There would be a silence when I talked about my daughter to my dad toooooo!!! Even mum was peculiar. OMG how wierd it all is. Nonsensicle (sp?)!!!!! It took them a good while to become more at ease....but in saying that there is still an uneasiness if anyone outside of the family is there. For Xmas I gave my mum a beautiful framed black and white photo of my bdaughter. When she opened she had rather a peculiar reaction as my SIL mother was with us and curious to know who it was. I think she may have actually squirmed!!! Needless to say there are photos of all the other grandchildren around the house. There is a very good English movie called "Secrets and lies", based around adoption/reunion. It is a lovely movie, and well worth trying to find. :love: susie
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I bought a copy of Peyton Place when I was about 14 and read it thoroughly, the shocking parts, twice. Less than 2 years later I was pregnant and headed for a maternity home. The difference for me is that my own 'birthmother' is the one who put me in that home. Unknown to me, my adoptive parents had known her all along (big secret #1) and basically turned me over to her when this happened, assuming, I suppose, that she would know more about what to do since my 'birthmother' herself had me in a maternity home. I also believe they wanted to wash their hands of the shame they felt I had brought to them. After it was 'over', my birthmother's term for my baby's birth, I was ordered to not tell anyone about it. (Big secret #2) I was ordered that if I gained weight during pregnancy, I could not stay with the 'birthmother' afterward because people would know I'd had a baby. I attended a new school in a new state and I was watched like a hawk by my 'birthmother' when I was allowed to date because she seemed to be afraid I'd get pregnant again and she would be to blame this time. There was never any mention again about my baby. And I tried as hard as I could to do what my 'birthmother' wanted because I so wanted her to like me. I babysat her kids after school so she could take a job. I babysat on Friday and Saturday nights so she and her husband could go out. I was allowed to get a driver's license but rarely allowed to drive their cars. I was responsible for cleaning the house, preparing dinner every night and doing the dishes, ironing the children's clothes, putting my 1/2 sister (7) to bed every night. I lived a very austere existence for my senior year of high school because my 'birthmother' turned me into live in help. I often had to take my neighbor and best friend with me on dates (chaperone, I guess) and my boyfriend even took my younger brothers and sisters with us to basketball games because I was babysitting. And, get this, my adoptive parents PAID my 'birthmother' to let me live there for the 15 months after my baby was born and lost to adoption. Then, the day after I graduated from high school, without warning, my 'birthmother' told me I was going back with my adoptive parents to visit and not coming back. She threw me out because, in her words, 'she had done what she had to do and it was time for her to concentrate on her family and her life and fix the wreckage I had caused.' But guess who was the biggest curious bystander when I found my son 24 years later. My 'birthmother', of course. The day she met him, she came into the room and immediately gave him a hug. It turned my stomach because this same 'grandmother' had tried mightily to abort him with strange pills and horseback rides and quinine in the months before he was born. And when he and I spoke to the newspaper for an article about our reunion, my 'birthmother' angrily told me that I was selfish and had no consideration for others. She told me to never call her again and I learned she was worried that the article would make mention that I was also adopted and she didn't want to explain that to people she worked with because she'd been getting alot of mileage out of my reunion story. I told her to tell them SHE adopted me, if it was such a big deal. In spite of all this, or perhaps because of this, I made certain to NEVER be embarrassed or deny my son's existence to anyone. It was difficult some times to tell people who knew me most of my life and let them know I had lied and lived a lie for so long. It was hard to watch their face when they heard my news but I wanted to no longer hide from the truth. My son was more important than what anyone thought about me. And I'm sure there was some snickering and whispering about me in my small rural hometown when I took my son there to see where I'd grown up. My adoptive mother even asked me if I was certain I really wanted to bring him there so I believe she was worried about what people might say behind her back as well. It was the only time she met him and she wanted to cook what he liked and have us around although I did decide we should stay at a motel in a nearby town rather than her house. I've never regretted that little trip. I refused to apologize to anyone for my son's existence and it got easier as time went by. That trip to my hometown was 20 years ago now and my son died in 1995. We made the most of 8 short years together and talked on the phone several times a week. I made many trips to visit him and he visited my home once staying 3 weeks. I didn't have time to be shamed or embarrassed because I was so happy to have him in my life. I introduced him as my son and he always introduced me as his mother and it was fun to watch reactions as people tried to figure out the details. As a teenager who had just found my own 'birthmother', I tried hard to please her and consequently, lost my own baby to make her happy. Fortunately, I grew up a great deal in 24 years and no longer needed my 'birthmother' or anyone's approval of how I conducted my life. My adoptive parents and I always had alot of friction and I never worried about pleasing them as much. In recent years, I realize that I felt reasonably sure that my adoptive parents would not abandon me (although there were some threats at the time of my pregnancy) but I was far less certain about my 'birthmother's' feelings for me. Unfortunately for me, my 'birthmother' did emotionally abandon me several times after our reunion, the first being when she tried to abort my baby and then put me in a maternity home. After more than 30 years of push-pull with my 'birthmother', I finally took a stand with and am no longer in contact with her. Peyton Place became synonomous for secrets back in the '60's and, although I never connected my adoption loss experience with the book at the time, I lived in my own Peyton Place for many years.
bak2basik welcome welcome.. to this place.. I am glad you are here.. I have written a book in reply.. the snow is coming and we are about to be snowed in.. so I seem to be in a mood to share.. The no feeling rule was in effect.. Hiding the secrets was more important.. I was sent for an abortion.. I had to go to various doctors office and ask them for an abortion when it was not legal.. What a horrible experience it was.. So ashamed.. Shame is such a manipulator.. one can do anything with a person if one shames them.. and not just surface shame.. Shame that can be modified and fixed.. not that.. Just you are shame.. your very being is shame.. And you do not deserve to be told the truth.. whew.. and you can not tell others the truth.. What a terrible terrible message.. I was a stewardess when I was pregnant.. I could not show.. and in those times the outfits were fitted.. I went till six months before I showed.. then I could not pull it off any more.. I sat in a motel all alone and ate.. food.. comforted myself with food.. My mom and dad would visit in secret.. After I had my son.. I was still heavy.. big tummy and my not pregnant clothes did not fit.. I had to exercise and I had to get back into thin shape so I could get back to work.. not good enough. The threat of having no where to go.. I still to this day live in terror of that.. I had to hide in my parents apartment till I did not look fat.. big.. like I had had a baby.. Its like you were a non person.. I did not date after I relinquished.. my mom told me to pretend I was a virgin.. I shake my head when I think of it now.. Again it was like you were a non person.. How does one get over this.. I just wrote in another thread that I still have a hard time with connecting emotionally with people. With my husband.. When the going gets very tough I know I need to pull back and go into my own resources.. I do not expect help.. Emotional help.. a hug and a heres some love.. and off you go.. And I think that was gotten across in the book.. everyone bouncing off each other and secrets and lies the main thing.. Love only in secret.. Alison and her mom.. What a terrible way to live.. I am so sorry.. that must have been terrible to go through.. I can not imagine the rejection that you must have felt.. . Anger.. how do you process that kind of anger.. I know acting it out helps nothing.. yelling and raging.. but putting up boundaries towards this woman.. protecting yourself.. is key.. Not let her do it to you again.. My mom sent me into an abortion situation that was horrible.. There was a doctor from Cuba (I was in Florida) and he did abortions. I had to go through a check up and my mom said.. ask for it cheaper Jackie.. use your looks.. use your looks.. use your feminine. Female stuff.. The guy abused me.. and I said nothing.. I fainted after the experience.. but I do not even think I told my mom.. Then he was busted.. headlines in the paper.. he had been abusing others.. I walked right into it.. asked for it.. I started telling in the eighties.. Told my sister.. and she non reacted.. She wanted from me in those years.. and now I can not do for her now.. today.. I can not make that extra effort.. I am done with all of them.. yes You started getting strong and you asserted yourself.. put up a boundary.. told them no.. I am so sorry for your loss. What a terrible thing to happen.. Good on you.. Why didnҒt we fight them.. that is what I ponder.. We (some of us as always) wanted love.. and acceptance.. I got pregnant in Boston I was living there on my own.. but when I knew I was in trouble I ran home.. where my parents were living at that time.. I should have stayed in Boston I think.. asked for help.. but no.. I went home to mom and dad and wanted needed.. their love.. Condemnation is what I got.. I could not tell my father.. mom had to tell him and he never spoke with me about it.. my pregnancy.. Moms solution was abortion.. I do not think she deserves.. Sometimes here someone will post about taking care of an aging parent and how difficult it is.. Nursing homes.. etc.. I took care of my dad.. along with my sister.. in a long term care facility.. it was draining and difficult.. Now my sister wants me to travel and spend money we do not have to go to her daughters wedding.. and I do not can not do it.. I am hiding and feeling guilty.. she phoned.. and I have not answered the message left on the message thingee.. I have finally found a place to hide in.. hide from the world.. and I will not will not.. give it up.. Giving for others beyond what I can give is not on .. Weddings and legal and rings and all that crap is something I hate.. hate.. Its all pretend.. and now I think of it.. pretentious.. and legal.. Okay I know I am nuts on this one.. I listen to my books.. I download them from audible.. and Peyton Place is available.. I am thinking of listening to it again.. My sister got married.. she had a straight life.. well sort of.. She is real now.. but I can not play the game.. Knots.. RD Laing They are playing a game. They are playing at not playing a game. If I show them I see they are, I shall break the rules and they will punish me. I must play their game, of not seeing I see the game. Jackie
I bought a copy of Peyton Place when I was about 14 and read it thoroughly, the shocking parts, twice. Less than 2 years later I was pregnant and headed for a maternity home. The difference for me is that my own 'birthmother' is the one who put me in that home. Unknown to me, my adoptive parents had known her all along (big secret #1) and basically turned me over to her when this happened, assuming, I suppose, that she would know more about what to do since my 'birthmother' herself had me in a maternity home. I also believe they wanted to wash their hands of the shame they felt I had brought to them.
After it was 'over', my birthmother's term for my baby's birth, I was ordered to not tell anyone about it. (Big secret #2) I was ordered that if I gained weight during pregnancy, I could not stay with the 'birthmother' afterward because people would know I'd had a baby.
I attended a new school in a new state and I was watched like a hawk by my 'birthmother' when I was allowed to date because she seemed to be afraid I'd get pregnant again and she would be to blame this time. There was never any mention again about my baby. And I tried as hard as I could to do what my 'birthmother' wanted because I so wanted her to like me.
I babysat her kids after school so she could take a job. I babysat on Friday and Saturday nights so she and her husband could go out. I was allowed to get a driver's license but rarely allowed to drive their cars. I was responsible for cleaning the house, preparing dinner every night and doing the dishes, ironing the children's clothes, putting my 1/2 sister (7) to bed every night. I lived a very austere existence for my senior year of high school because my 'birthmother' turned me into live in help. I often had to take my neighbor and best friend with me on dates (chaperone, I guess) and my boyfriend even took my younger brothers and sisters with us to basketball games because I was babysitting. And, get this, my adoptive parents PAID my 'birthmother' to let me live there for the 15 months after my baby was born and lost to adoption.
Then, the day after I graduated from high school, without warning, my 'birthmother' told me I was going back with my adoptive parents to visit and not coming back. She threw me out because, in her words, 'she had done what she had to do and it was time for her to concentrate on her family and her life and fix the wreckage I had caused.'
But guess who was the biggest curious bystander when I found my son 24 years later. My 'birthmother', of course. The day she met him, she came into the room and immediately gave him a hug. It turned my stomach because this same 'grandmother' had tried mightily to abort him with strange pills and horseback rides and quinine in the months before he was born. And when he and I spoke to the newspaper for an article about our reunion, my 'birthmother' angrily told me that I was selfish and had no consideration for others. She told me to never call her again and I learned she was worried that the article would make mention that I was also adopted and she didn't want to explain that to people she worked with because she'd been getting alot of mileage out of my reunion story. I told her to tell them SHE adopted me, if it was such a big deal
In spite of all this, or perhaps because of this, I made certain to NEVER be embarrassed or deny my son's existence to anyone. It was difficult some times to tell people who knew me most of my life and let them know I had lied and lived a lie for so long. It was hard to watch their face when they heard my news but I wanted to no longer hide from the truth.
My son was more important than what anyone thought about me.
And I'm sure there was some snickering and whispering about me in my small rural hometown when I took my son there to see where I'd grown up. My adoptive mother even asked me if I was certain I really wanted to bring him there so I believe she was worried about what people might say behind her back as well. It was the only time she met him and she wanted to cook what he liked and have us around although I did decide we should stay at a motel in a nearby town rather than her house. I've never regretted that little trip. I refused to apologize to anyone for my son's existence and it got easier as time went by.
That trip to my hometown was 20 years ago now and my son died in 1995.
We made the most of 8 short years together and talked on the phone several times a week. I made many trips to visit him and he visited my home once staying 3 weeks. I didn't have time to be shamed or embarrassed because I was so happy to have him in my life. I introduced him as my son and he always introduced me as his mother and it was fun to watch reactions as people tried to figure out the details.
As a teenager who had just found my own 'birthmother', I tried hard to please her and consequently, lost my own baby to make her happy.
Fortunately, I grew up a great deal in 24 years and no longer needed my 'birthmother' or anyone's approval of how I conducted my life. My adoptive parents and I always had alot of friction and I never worried about pleasing them as much. In recent years, I realize that I felt reasonably sure that my adoptive parents would not abandon me (although there were some threats at the time of my pregnancy) but I was far less certain about my 'birthmother's' feelings for me. Unfortunately for me, my 'birthmother' did emotionally abandon me several times after our reunion, the first being when she tried to abort my baby and then put me in a maternity home. After more than 30 years of push-pull with my 'birthmother', I finally took a stand with and am no longer in contact with her.
Peyton Place became synonomous for secrets back in the '60's and, although I never connected my adoption loss experience with the book at the time, I lived in my own Peyton Place for many years.
Thank you for your comments. It took me 40 years to see it all - the big picture. How my birthmother kept me in line with her anger. How I accepted crumbs in her life. How desperate I was to have her in my life. I still feel guilty about cutting her off because people have said to me 'are you sure, will you regret it when she's gone'. No I'm not sure and I may have regrets but that is me second guessing myself, always second guessing. My regrets are what happened to my son, how difficult his life was, that he died at 32. It didn't have to happen, but I believe it was determined to happen when I lost him to adoption. But with my son, I feel successful, that I did things right for a change. Now he's gone and I miss talking to him, having him in my life. My own life, while never very stable, has been a cakewalk compared to my son's life and that of many other people. You ask some good questions, why. why did this happen to us and why did people who supposedly cared about us abandon us and basically turn us over to the predators who feed on the misfortunes of others. Are you also adopted? And is the mother you speak of the adoptive mother? And did you lose a baby to adoption or was the abortion the solution to that? You seem very sad. I believe I'm more angry than sad, but possibly that is because being sad makes me feel like a victim. How long have I felt invisible but at the same time, a target for people with a mean-spirited agenda!! I've been on this board for years under another name, but had to rejoin recently when my sign in would not work. I don't know what I want now or why I'm here. My son is dead, my amother died last fall at a few months shy of 100 years and I was in charge of everything for the last 10 years of her life. My abrother didn't even show up for the funeral and he was her favorite. My birthmother is still living and I know her life has not been what she wanted. That is not my fault and not mine to fix. My bfather would not meet me for 30 years and then he expected more from me than I could deliver. He died in 04. My adad died in '84. None of my 8 half siblings keep in touch, my abrother told me I was never welcome at his home again. I feel estranged from the world and my husband and I have had life altering problems since he lost his job of 26 years. Such a lonely ending for 2 adoptions that everyone thought were the perfect solution to a good life. It is not enough to write on these message boards. For me, I need resolution, restitution and maybe even, revenge, not in any tangible way, but through understanding of what I went through, what my son lived through. I don't know how to get what I need. Oh, yes, I ran across the movie Peyton Place in my collection of DVDs this morning. I wasn't certain I even owned the movie. guess I should watch it again. Maybe I will see myself there.
How my birthmother kept me in line with her anger. How I accepted crumbs in her life. How desperate I was to have her in my life. I still feel guilty about cutting her off because people have said to me 'are you sure, will you regret it when she's gone'. No I'm not sure and I may have regrets but that is me second guessing myself, always second guessing.
Are you also adopted? And is the mother you speak of the adoptive mother?
And did you lose a baby to adoption or was the abortion the solution to that?
You seem very sad.
I believe I'm more angry than sad, but possibly that is because being sad makes me feel like a victim. How long have I felt invisible but at the same time, a target for people with a mean-spirited agenda!!
I've been on this board for years under another name, but had to rejoin recently when my sign in would not work. I don't know what I want now or why I'm here. My son is dead, my amother died last fall at a few months shy of 100 years and I was in charge of everything for the last 10 years of her life. My abrother didn't even show up for the funeral and he was her favorite. My birthmother is still living and I know her life has not been what she wanted. That is not my fault and not mine to fix. My bfather would not meet me for 30 years and then he expected more from me than I could deliver. He died in 04. My adad died in '84. None of my 8 half siblings keep in touch, my abrother told me I was never welcome at his home again. I feel estranged from the world and my husband and I have had life altering problems since he lost his job of 26 years. Such a lonely ending for 2 adoptions that everyone thought were the perfect solution to a good life.
It is not enough to write on these message boards. For me, I need resolution, restitution and maybe even, revenge, not in any tangible way, but through understanding of what I went through, what my son lived through. I don't know how to get what I need.
Oh, yes, I ran across the movie Peyton Place in my collection of DVDs this morning. I wasn't certain I even owned the movie. guess I should watch it again. Maybe I will see myself there.
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Jackie, just a quick note (they say the website is going down anytime now for maintenance). I've been following this thread...it is a really good one. But I need to buy a copy of Peyton Place because I can't remember the whole story. They've been showing it a lot on satellite television lately, but I always tune in at the end. I'm not sure if I ever actually read the book. I think I did when I was a teenager, just because it was so racy for the times. If my library doesn't have a copy tomorrow, I'll order one from Amazon.... Are you all snowed in?? Keep yourself warm. The last big snow we had, my wood stove wouldn't work...the chimney cap was all plugged up. I thought I was going to freeze to death.
We can't get out.. Our road is plowed but we do not have a way to get out of our drive unless we pay for someone to come and dig us out.. Seventy dollars.. I love being snowed in.. Our wood is almost gone.. the inside wood is gone.. the dry wood.. we are burning wet wood now.. I am lucky as the wood stove is hubbies job.. I do dishes etc.. [url=http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/11700875/]50 years later, €˜Peyton Place€™ memories remain - MORE NEWS AND FEATURES - MSNBC.com[/url] “Peyton Place” centers on the fortunes of three women: Allison McKenzie, a teenager and aspiring writer; her friend, Selena Cross, the dark-haired “bad girl” from across the tracks; and Allison’s mother, Constance McKenzie, strapped like an old corset into her life as a single parent until unfastened by the town’s handsome new school principal, Tomas Makris. With its famously suggestive beginning — “Indian summer is like a woman. Ripe, hotly passionate, but fickle ...” — Metalious’ novel describes a petty, mean-spirited town in which rape, alcoholism and sexual passion seethe behind a facade of old-fashioned propriety. “The function of a novel is to entertain, but you can grind an ax at the same time,” the author said when the book was published. Detractors blamed Metalious’ novel on the ravings of a dirty mind, but the most notorious plot turn, the rape of Selena by her stepfather, Lucas Cross, was based on a true story: The 1947 confession by a Gilmanton woman that she had murdered her father, who had been sexually abusing her for years. Snipped some In “Peyton Place,” Metalious observed that there were two kinds of people, those who lived behind “tedious, expensive shells” and those who did not. For the former, the price was living in fear of exposure. For the latter, the risk was being “crushed.” Jackie
[font=century gothic]Oh my gosh - Peyton Place!! I'm glad this thread got bumped up! Jackie - I'm LOLing when you said: We are all so different... I was hidden away... in Boaca. Raton.. and I told everyone that my husband was in Viet Nam. I did too! Oh those secrets!! I loved reading Peyton Place and the TV series.[/font]
susieloo
There would be a silence when I talked about my daughter to my dad toooooo!!!
susieloo
For Xmas I gave my mum a beautiful framed black and white photo of my bdaughter. When she opened she had rather a peculiar reaction as my SIL mother was with us and curious to know who it was. I think she may have actually squirmed!!!
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