Losing Mum and Pup: A Memoir by Christopher Buckley

Good day and a Happy Father's Day to all!

As some of you are aware, my father, who started this blog a few years ago, passed away in January.  As a way to honor his memory, and continue the ongoing conversations we used to have, I'll be reviewing books on here from time to time.

June is always a big month for my family.  In addition to Father's Day, my dad, my brother, and I all have our birthdays roughly in the middle of the month (my poor Mom!).  That mixed with the end of the school year and start of summer always makes it a special time.  While our family continues to grow and move forward in new and exciting ways, this first June without him feels a little emptier than usual. 

I think about past birthdays and father's days.  For his 50th birthday we went to Yosemite and stayed at the Awhanee Hotel, a grand historic hotel among who's more notable guests included Queen Elizabeth, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Charlie Chaplin, the Shah of Iran  To visualize, several of the interior settings such as the Great Lounge were used as setting in the movie adaptation of Stephen King's The Shining (at 15 and 11, my brother and I were a little old to ride a big wheel through the halls, and saw no creepy twins during my exploration).  

When we arrived, they regretted to inform us that they had overbooked reservations but had a parlour room available if we were okay with using a bathroom down the hall.  We went to look at the room and were amazed to see a great fire place on one wall, and the opposite wall almost entirely windows with stunning views of El Capitan, one of the premier features of Yosemite National Park.  There was a table with chairs and sofa that folded out into a king sized bed.  As we looked at the room, they brought in 2 cots for my brother and I.  They again apologized profusely and if we would take the room, it would of course be complimentary!  My parents were able to keep a rare set of poker faces and told them we would make the best of the situation as it was a special occasion.  We had an amazing weekend of hiking one of the most beautiful places, stayed in a room with the most breathtaking views I've ever seen, and purchased a set of plates from the hotel that our family still uses to this day for holidays and special occasions.

I often think about the authors my dad and I enjoyed.  One of which is Christopher Buckley, a political satirist that's written Thank You For Smoking, Supreme Courtship, and Boomsday among others and has Make Russia Great Again coming out next month.  He has also written several non-fiction books as well including Losing Mum and Pup: A Memoir which details the passing of his parents within a year of each other.  In Losing Mum and Pup, he wrote:  I think about them every day...writing (this book) was intended to enable catharsis; now as I reach the end, it seems to me that I may have written it out of a more basic need: as an excuse to spend more time with them before letting them go, if indeed, one ever really lets them go."  Continuing my father's blog in this manner, I realize, is fulfilling that same basic need.

My father and Christopher Buckley both spent time in politics.  Christopher Buckley as a speech writer for George H.W. Bush as Vice President and later President, my father for Ted Kennedy in Cambridge as well as his campaigns and the campaigns of Jimmy Carter.  They both had profound respect for the men they worked for, came from a time when it was more common be friends with people on opposing ends of the political spectrum, and were able to and at times even enjoyed conversations with people of opposing view points.

Buckley's father, William F. Buckley Jr., host of Firing Line and founder of The National Review, can be thought of as a spiritual godfather to the modern conservative movement in American politics.  However he too, despite being much more forceful in his convictions and further to the right, was able to enjoy great friendships with people equally as passionate and far down the spectrum on the left.  As chronicled by the son, for every arch-nemesis-like relationship with people like Gore Vidal, there was an equally great friendship with persons like Chris Matthews or George McGovern.  From Christopher Buckley's descriptions, it seems that for a person that would take such a thoughtful and intellectual approach to their beliefs, they would recognize it in another, regardless of where on the spectrum that person's beliefs would lie, and enjoy the exchange that would bring about.  This is a trait definitely missing from the hysteria of todays politics and we are no doubt worse off for it.

For a person as prolific as William F. Buckley Jr., there is no shortage of writing and analysis of the man and his beliefs.  As the wife of an icon and belle of all social circles, the same can be said for his wife, Patricia.  But there are things only their son can write.  In Losing Mum and Pup, Buckley shares funny moments that humanize them for the public.  The hilarity of his father's stubbornness and need to have his own way, followed by the acerbic and undercutting wit of his mother's how did that work out for you type of commentary.  In his parents, I see my own at times:  A father with great passion for the ideals and deeds of great men, and the mother's devotion to her husband that fuels their passion.  While this might make the wives out to take a role of subservience, in both my parents and Buckley's parents situations, nothing could be further from the truth.  Both of our father's would have been lost without our mothers and anyone who met them knew that there was no senior partner  in their relationships.

Buckley comments that "great men are not dawdlers; their idle is set too high."  A trait that might have fueled a man like his father to need to control everything in his life.  Buckley talks about evenings watching TV with his father, who refused to surrender the remote, even as he got older and less able.  Buckley and a close family friend would joke that they watched parts of 5 movies over the course of an evening and even as a final jest, placed the remote control to his father's television, in the casket with him.  In this he differs from my father who, while no less passionate, was more relaxed and flexible when it came matters not of life and death.  He often fell asleep when watching TV with us and was fairly agreeable to whatever others wanted to watch.  In this, our father's TV watching habits were tell-tale of their personalities: Buckley's forceful and unwavering, my father's quiet confidence in allowing others to take control, much like the strong swimmer he was, confident enough in his abilities, to enjoy drifting down the San Joachim River during the camping trips of my childhood.

If you are traveling, if you are celebrating, if you are growing, if you are grieving, there is a book out there perfect for the occasion.  Losing Mum and Pup: A Memoir is a fantastic read that chronicles the pain of losing a parent.  While your relationship with your parents are your own and there are none like it, you may see a bit of your own in this memoir, you may see a key difference that highlights your special relationship, you may see something you want to change while you still have the time, or you may recognize the pain of loss that can only come from loving and being loved by someone as unique as the people who raised you.

From Losing Mum and Pup: A Memoir

My parents and I

                         

Not Ready To Put The Book On The Shelf

On January 23rd, 2020, my father, Harry Bryan Sheridan succumbed to his battle with Cancer.  He would have turned 71 years old today.

For those of you who knew him and are finding out now, I apologize that you are finding out this way.  He was the type of man, that if you knew him, he meant something to you.  You shared a moment, a conversation, a bond, and I know that you will miss him too.

He leaves behind a wife, my mother, with whom he shared a love that grew deeper each day of their lives.  Their love and relationship has been the example I always hold in my mind as I build a life with my wife.  They would have celebrated their 40th Wedding Anniversary in February.

He leaves behind two sons, my brother Sean and myself.  He also leaves behind a grandson, Gavin, to whom he loved being his Popa.  He was fortunate to see both sons marry wonderful women, Danielle and Aubrey, and in them welcome daughters into his family.  He was proud to see the friendship between my brother and myself as we both asked the other to be our Best Man.  Neither of us could have asked for a better role model or mentor, and in each other, our father could not have given us a better friend.

My mom would always tell me how she wished I could have known him when he was my age.  She would tell me how she couldn’t begin to describe how passionate a person he was.  Passionate about life, passionate about his family, passionate about his sense of right and wrong, passionate about the environment.  Knowing him as I knew him, I can only imagine what he might have been like when he was younger.  I remember many a heated discussion with him about current events, only for my brother to exasperatedly declare “you realize that you’re agreeing with each other, don’t you?!”  A little of that passion may have rubbed off on us as well.

A few days after his passing, my mother and I were sitting and watching a movie.  I commented on how one of the actors would be perfect to play Philip Roth’s Nathan Zuckerman.  It was an offhand comment made in a room in which I’d made many comments about books with my dad over the more than 25 years of their living in that house.  My mom commented that I was going to miss talking to him about books.  That profound loss hit home and we broke down all over again.

There was no one I enjoyed talking about books with more than my father.  When I came across a book I knew he would enjoy, I couldn’t wait to tell him about it, pass it on to him once I finished it, or have it waiting for him come Christmas, his birthday, or Father’s Day.  His eclectic range of tastes were in a lot of ways mirrored in me.  We shared many a favorite author while our different life paths led us to discover different authors at different times.  We were able to open each other’s eyes to new reads and work together to increase our ever-expanding libraries, and our ever-expanding wish lists.

A few years ago, during one of our conversations about a book, he mentioned this blog and offered me the chance to be a contributor and review some of the books that I’d read.  As he put it, this blog is called “The Sheridan Stories” and I am a Sheridan.  He would have loved to have seen my words on this page and I would love to continue these conversations that have always had a special place in my heart.

My father had a passion for life that was inspiring.  Even during the years when his health deteriorated, he was planning his next adventure.  When his doctor advised against him flying across country to visit my wife and I, he grew excited at the prospect of planning a cross-country train trip with my mom.  As Jimmy Buffett put it, he wasn’t ready to put the book on the shelf.

From time to time, I’ll review a book here that I think he would have loved or talk about something that might have been important to him.  If those who are reading have suggestions of something he might have liked or if something written here makes you think of further reading, I’m always open to the next adventure.

Every time I open a new book, start a new chapter, or turnover a new leaf, written or metaphorical, I will think of him.  During our time together we pulled many books off the proverbial shelf but our continuing conversation isn’t one that I’m ready to put back just yet.

Dad, I’m looking forward to sharing your favorite books and telling you about new ones.  

I love you.

Chris