Want a NOOK? Explore Now
In the spirit of A Child Called "It" comes an
amazing story of resilience from a woman who
triumphed over child abuse, cancer, and alcoholism to founder of A Place Called Home.
"I began life, it would seem, as some kind of Grimm's fairy tale creature, large and oafish, undesirable, grossly imperfect. Neatly penned in my baby book were the words, 'Debbie was a fat, unattractive baby.' Fat and ugly aside, my life was fairly normal for a couple of years. It would be a while before the abuse began. Before the smoking and pills, the rage and rebellion, the alcoholism and cancer, the broken marriages.
In those first uncomplicated years I could have set out on any of a dozen different paths toward an orderly life . . . it was not to be. . . . But this is not a story of defeat."
This is a book about surviving. It's about hope. It's about how each of us-ordinary, imperfect, damaged-can dream and heal. This book weaves the humorous, often outrageous, always courageous tapestry of Debrah Constance's life. Voted Woman of the Year by the State of California Legislature for founding A Place Called Home, (APCH) an organization providing services to at-risk inner-city kids in South Los Angeles, she proves that anyone can rise above life's obstacles and make a better life for themselves-and others.
Beginning
Mother labored for twelve hours, the doctor gave a yank with the forceps and I came squalling into the world on January 18, 1947. Cleaned up and ready for a little maternal affection, I was given the cold shoulder. "Take that baby away!" Mother insisted, much to the alarm and disapproval of the hospital attendants. Whether exhausted, afraid or just dismayed by my appearance, she wasn't ready to hold me.
A baby nurse was waiting for us at home in Manhattan, so if Mother didn't want to touch me for a while, at least I wouldn't suffer from lack of attention. Eventually Nan accommodated herself to motherhood, taking copious notes of my visitors, gifts and modest accomplishments. "At 15 months Deb is such a happy and outgoing baby that everyone comments on it. She loves people & gives her toys to everyone. She doesn't have any temper at all with her playmates - just loves them and laughs at everything they do." "Deb is very lovable - kisses on the least provocation - hugs her mommy all day - laughs over nothing at all. Is altogether the most wonderful baby in the world, & I was never so contented & happy."
In spite of the label - "fat, unattractive" - that I seemed to be born with and that Mother had inscribed in my baby book, things were good for a while. My parents, Nan and Arnold, took me for walks in Central Park, tended to my needs and shuffled me from place to place as they changed addresses. Nan was petite and beautiful, a Broadway actress until she became pregnant with me. Arnold was handsome and intense, an artist and an advertising executive on Madison Avenue. A stunning couple.
If their first effort at making a picture-perfect baby had yielded disappointing results, they had much better luck the second time. Wendy, born when I was two and a half, was beautiful, a cherub, perfect in every way. Within months, her ideal beauty was confirmed: Wendy was chosen and photographed as a Gerber baby.
Now the toddler and big sister, I lost my position as baby. But more than that, my parents, and especially my father, had a basis for comparison. From birth, it seemed, my tiny precocious sister excelled at everything. She had beauty, talent and brains. What I did, she did better, sooner and more gracefully; what I couldn't do, she mastered without effort. All of my parents' pride and attention swirled around her as Wendy became their "real" daughter, and I became the "other," swept along in the wake of her accomplishments. This was a game that I could never win. I had been born Fat and Ugly and no quantity of kisses or laughter could erase that unfortunate, and lingering, fate.
Once, when I was around seven, Wendy and I went into the city with our father to spend the day. We got to Arnold's office, and he left me sitting in a large coat closet, directing me to stay there, while he took Wendy around to meet his colleagues. Little Wendy, five years old, stood on a desk and recited the entire Gettysburg Address. He was so proud of her and so embarrassed by me, an attitude that I believed was fully justified because I was Fat, Ugly and, now by comparison with my brilliant baby sister, Stupid.
Like everyone else, I adored Wendy, doted on her and blamed myself for my own shortcomings. Our young lives were filled with music and dancing lessons, visits with loving grandparents and a continual parade of pets. Wendy was a cello prodigy, playing a miniature instrument that had belonged to a prince, but even private lessons with esteemed tutors couldn't turn me into a violin player. I was terrible and retreated to the attic for my hours of practice. Eventually I switched to the piano and was able to play decently.
We led a normal, even a privileged, life.
Except for the things that my father was doing to me.
| Acknowledgments | ix | |
| Foreword | xiii | |
| Author's Note | xv | |
| Introduction: Coming Out of the Closet | xvii | |
| Beginning | 1 | |
| Arnold | 5 | |
| Happy as a Fiddle | 11 | |
| Where There's Smoke | 17 | |
| School Daze | 19 | |
| Work, Part One | 27 | |
| Husband Number One | 31 | |
| California | 37 | |
| Husband Number Two | 47 | |
| The Wild Years | 59 | |
| Cancer | 63 | |
| Husband Number Three | 69 | |
| Work, Part Two | 75 | |
| Drunk | 83 | |
| Real Life | 91 | |
| Ugly | 99 | |
| Work, Part Three | 101 | |
| Finding A Place Called Home | 109 | |
| South Central | 119 | |
| Bad Love | 123 | |
| A Place Called Home | 131 | |
| A Gang of My Own | 147 | |
| Diana | 157 | |
| Crash | 161 | |
| Smart as a Bell | 171 | |
| Gideon | 181 | |
| God | 185 | |
| Cat Tilt, Dog Tilt | 189 | |
| Finding Frida | 193 | |
| Fat | 195 | |
| Wife | 201 | |
| Sacred Music | 211 | |
| Awards Earned by Debrah Constance and A Place Called Home | 215 |
Readercolorado
Posted June 26, 2011
I feel as if this author took the potential of making a good book from her past of abuse from her father to instead advertise her "a place called home" child help center. I mean come on the book is 170 and she uses the last 70 pages to talk about how well this center is doing. I was expecting a book about the abuse of a child instead I got a book on an author trying to prove she turned her life around. I regret spending $10 on this book. It's so boring and her love life is too repetitive on bad relationship after another is a trend.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Overview
In the spirit of A Child Called "It" comes an
amazing story of resilience from a woman who
triumphed over child abuse, cancer, and alcoholism to founder of A Place Called Home.
"I began life, it would seem, as some kind of Grimm's fairy tale creature, large and oafish, undesirable, grossly imperfect. Neatly penned in my baby book were the words, 'Debbie was a fat, unattractive baby.' Fat and ugly aside, my life was fairly normal for a couple of years. It would be a while before the abuse began. Before the smoking and pills, the rage and rebellion, ...