Danger: Blogger in the Family

Does anyone remember that song from the 70s called “Don’t Make Love to a Country Music Singer?” It was recorded by Willie Nelson and Mary Kay Place and the lyrics warned against getting intimate with a country music star “cause he’ll tell the world about it in his country music song.”

I have friends who’ve published memoirs or even novels loosely based on their lives who got into serious trouble with their family members about how they were depicted in their works. One woman I know was practically disowned after her relatives read her book and didn’t like how another family member came across even though I saw it as a very loving tribute. I always dismissed the concerns of the rankled family members and assured my friends that as long as they exercised a modicum of sensitivity, anything they did for their ART was fair game. I’m starting to have second thoughts.

I often write about my family but I’ve rarely felt the sting of such criticisms. I remember when a 1998 piece about my junk food-obsessed childhood appeared on Salon, my mother ran around her office showing the article to everyone and screaming about all the great, nutritious food she made for us. But she was laughing through her “Oys!” and flattered to be the subject of the piece. I’ve ruffled a few of my flock’s feathers with this blog from time to time but always felt my inner censors were enough to prevent me from really crossing the line. Although I’ve written about some pretty difficult times in my family history, there are certain specifics that I would never share. On a few occasions I’ve called family members to ask if it would be okay if I referenced a particular anecdote.

In my previous post about the hippie movement, I never dreamed that the short excerpts I included of letters by my uncle and my grandfather would cause such a ruckus. Not that I wasn’t warned. When I mentioned to my sister last week that I had found these letters and was thinking of putting them on my blog, she immediately sounded the alarm and said that at the very least I should get permission from our Uncle Paul. “Oh, he won’t mind,” I said. “Why would he? They’re amazing artifacts from another time and place, written over 35 years ago, and they say so much about what was going on in our culture. Besides, he comes across great in his letter!” Sue continued to express strong reservations but I wouldn’t budge. “Don’t be silly,” I insisted. “These fit my post so perfectly, I have to use them!”

I emailed Paul only after the post appeared to see if he was upset about it. He seemed fine and said he wanted to see the full letters—he didn’t even remember writing that one about the business venture and commented that he was glad that my grandfather refused the loan. I promised to send the letters to Paul right away and repeated my thoughts about their sociological value. Then I started hearing from other members of my family who were open-mouthed aghast at my chutzpah for publishing these private words for all the world to see. Yikes.

It took me a while to get off my “But I Am the Family Archivist!” soapbox and admit that I had crossed the line. My sister finally broke through by having me imagine that a cousin of ours had come into possession of some letters between me and my mother that contained some rare harsh words. How would I feel if he posted those letters online, letters that weren’t rightfully his to begin with and which gave a very skewed view of those two people and that relationship? How would I feel? Outraged and appalled!

I apologize to my Uncle Paul and to all my family members who thought my actions were inappropriate and self-serving. I admit I got carried away with excitement at finding such golden relics of that time period and I could only look at them as Smithsonian-worthy documents that needed to be shared. If I can yank off my curator’s hat for just a moment, I can see how hard-hitting that letter from my grandfather is as he rips into my uncle’s beliefs and choices. Of course I know the backstory—how close the two of them were until the day my grandfather died in 1995. The conflicts they had with each other during the 1960s and early 70s when each was responding to the era’s intense social and cultural boundary-pushing did nothing to alter the love and support they felt for each other. I sure hope it comes across in my posts how much I love both my grandfather and my Uncle Paul, the man who kept our family together following my grandparents’ deaths and continues to open his home for all family events.

I finally understand the negative response I received and if I could go back a few days I’d certainly discuss it at length with my uncle. But I’d still want to post the excerpts, they’re just too damn good! I know I will continue to mine my cache of family memorabilia, but I won't make the same mistake twice.

So much for those plans to publish my sister’s diary entries...

Comments

[Neil]

Something like this happened to me once before. I think writers sometimes get so caught in their own heads that they can't even imagine a family member getting upset over written material, especially the mention of a letter from years ago. I'm sure it was a shock to you that this caused such a stir. I don't think there is a right answer to this. Books and articles would be pretty dull if writers didn't exploit their real lives, so I guess this means you are a real writer. Congratulations. Don't expect to be invited to any more family gatherings.

[Uncle Paul]

Danny:
I received your personal e-mail mea culpa and responded with a personal e-mail back. We will have many private e-mails in the future. There is much of life that's not ready for prime-time instant blogging and that's OK. Sloth and rumination can be good virtues before going public with our insights.
Now for the public response:
My reaction was exactly the same as your mom/my sister's: Mild kvetch but kvelling at my brilliant relation.
Every family should have such an archivist, even Dick Cheney's.

[Mark Daniels]

Danny:
Oops!

But the heartfelt apology from you and the gracious words of forgiveness from your Uncle Paul are wonderful to see here.

One of the occupational landmines of my profession is the temptation to use the life of my family as a goldmine for stories that might best not be told. So far, I've gotten no feedback that I've transgressed the family's privacy in twenty-three years of preaching. But that may be more the result of lots of prayer and dumb luck than any skill or wisdom on my part. Whatever the case may be, I understand the impulse to share things like the correspondence between your uncle and your grandfather.

Keep writing...You're a fabulous writer!

Mark

[Churlita]

Both of your last two posts are what make your blog so great. It's so real and so well written, without all 0f the self-indulgence. Brilliant.

[tamarika]

Danny,
You gave me the support I desperately needed when I wrote my stories even though it upset my family so terribly. So I have an inkling about how hard this all is. (I even had to start a brand new blog!) I am thinking about you and think you are so authentic and kind and caring. This post is a tribute to the love and respect you have for your family. Yes, it is a thin line and who knows when we cross over or what. Who are we to judge another's sensitivities or pain, eh?

I smiled wistfully when I read it. And identified with the sentiments and heartfelt words you wrote here.

I think Neil is right on: "...you are a real writer." And I love how he said not to expect being invited to family gatherings. At a very personal level, I know exactly what he means!

[Brooke]

I have no problem with you writing about our sexual exploits together. Just make sure you say I'm thin.

[MotherPie]

Where is that inner firewall? You discuss issues that are very relevant to bloggers and coming from the family archivist, I, too, understand.

I posted a valentine note from my husband without asking him first. He behaves a little better knowing that all it takes to whip him in shape is to tell him that I just might blog about it. Of course I'm only joking but still...

[Richard Lawrence Cohen]

A year ago I got some flak from close relations about things I had posted on my blog, really only one paragraph that, in retrospect, I understand crossed the line, giving out information about a relative that put him in a bad light. I acceded to their wishes not to blog about them in that way anymore. But this wasn't just a case of wounded feelings. I had given away information that could have hurt them in their careers or academic work. Nowadays, anything anyone writes about anyone is available to anyone who cares enough to search for it. Pseudonyms don't help much, and you and I don't use pseudonyms anyway. Employers and admissions officers have been known to search for such information. It's a paranoid situation, but there's reason to be circumspect, to draw a line.

[OldOldLady Of The Hills]

Oh Danny...I so understand the struggle with wanting to say it all and post it all, and having second, third, and fourth thoughts about it. I am still struggling with these things and am so afraid I will offend everyone, that I don't do it. It is strange too because of course reading what you wrote which is wonderful, beyond words, it doesn't seem like an invasion or a small betrayal of your family to me---but then, I'm not your family! (lol)
But when I think of sharing a lot about my family that I wish I could share, one way or another, I know, it would cement the terrible rifts that are hanging in the balance already! A true dilemma, isn't it? Especially if you want to write about your life with the possibility of it being published. I know how I would feel and have felt when I read things said about me that were hurtful to me...I hated it. I tried to pretend I didn't, but I really was upset about it and in all honesty it wasn't really anything that horrible!
What is one to do, as a writer? It is a true dilemma, to me and one I struggle with on a daily basis!
I so appreciate your writing Danny and your passion for all of your family and the love you absolutely do feel for them. It comes through loud and clear and with so much heart. Bravo, my dear.