Reading Chrysta Bilton’s memoir Normal
Family is like running with scissors, cutting up every page,
wondering how unconventional and how dysfunctional can this family be? And when
does this family reach semi-normalcy? The prologue starts with a siblings’
reunion, and what follows is a story of how a mother’s plan spun out of control
resulting in thirty-five siblings meeting years later for the very first time.
Near the beginning, Chrysta’s
mother, Debra, tells her:
We choose our
parents before we are born. You were just a little soul flying up in the sky,
and you looked down at all the mommies you could have been born to, and you
chose to come through me because your soul needs to learn something it can only
get through our relationship—and my soul needs to learn something through you.
Do you understand? We are great teachers for each other.
In her writing of Debra, Chrysta
serves up her mother’s life experiences as if they are small homemade cookies
on a tray, and that you should carefully choose the ones that aren’t too overdone.
Take your pick: smoking hash with Leonard Cohen in the mountains of Idra,
Greece, making out with Anita Pallenberg in a limousine, or inspiring the lyrics
for the Rolling Stones in a Bel-Air hotel room with Mick Jagger.
Such memories. And what about
Chrysta’s on-again, off-again, father? Here is a tidbit:
In their early years, and under
the influence of their mother, Chrysta and her sister, Kaitlyn, made Golden
Memory Boxes to remember their father, Jeffrey—he visited mostly on the
holidays for photo ops and gift-giving, incentivized by their mother’s generous
donations of money. But let’s get one thing straight—Jeffrey is unforgettable
in the grand scheme of things.
I highly recommend reading Normal
Family; Enjoy the ride. No matter how much planning goes into creating the
ideal family, just remember, it will get complicated, and boundaries will be
blurred. Or as Debra would say, You
can’t always get what you want, but you get what you need.
Video Spoiler Alert
2 comments:
You are reading up a storm. I’ll have to check it out. mj-way.com
Thanks, MJ-Way. This memoir had me thinking that I too was a donor—just not as prolific as Jeffrey.
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