A Bird in the House - Arbor, Lynn
18,99 €
inkl. MwSt.

Versandfertig in über 4 Wochen
  • Broschiertes Buch

Sometimes Dee shuts her eyes and imagines flying like a bird, simply floating high above everything. But that's impossible without wings. And besides, she has to take care of her mother, Bessie, which is ironic, since her brother, Georgie, was Bessie's favorite child. Bessie has a constant refrain, "Tell me if I did something bad, Dee. I must have done something awful, otherwise why wouldn't Georgie come see me or even call me?" Ignored by her mother as a child, Dee has been Bessie's caregiver (feeding, washing, wiping, and tending) for nearly a decade. But now, in 2008, Bessie has begun…mehr

Andere Kunden interessierten sich auch für
Produktbeschreibung
Sometimes Dee shuts her eyes and imagines flying like a bird, simply floating high above everything. But that's impossible without wings. And besides, she has to take care of her mother, Bessie, which is ironic, since her brother, Georgie, was Bessie's favorite child. Bessie has a constant refrain, "Tell me if I did something bad, Dee. I must have done something awful, otherwise why wouldn't Georgie come see me or even call me?" Ignored by her mother as a child, Dee has been Bessie's caregiver (feeding, washing, wiping, and tending) for nearly a decade. But now, in 2008, Bessie has begun wandering and seeing things that aren't there. Dee's full-time caregiver job is intensifying (add tracking, trailing, soothing, and reassuring). Plus there's increasing financial pressures. She'll never fly. Caregiver. She's the caregiver and it's pretty well known that care-getters often outlive their caregivers. And then there's Georgie-the dimpled, handsome son that they only see on his TV commercials. He's started coming around. What's he up to?
Autorenporträt
Here's who I am... Although I attended four high schools: Ferndale, Michigan-seven months, Palo Alto, California-four months; Birmingham Michigan-two years; and San Mateo, California-three months. I'm a high school drop out. Before I was twenty-four, I had moved twenty-one times. Don't feel sorry for me. It's all food for the laptop. I've had two husbands-both named John (which prevents confusion). The first one was nice, the second one's a keeper. I have a daughter, a son, two stepdaughters, six grandchildren, a daughter-in-law, and two sons-in-law. In grade school I wanted to be an architect, a justification for chopping up cardboard boxes. In high school I wanted to be illustrator, or a writer, or a painter, or a wife and mom. After I was a wife and mom, I also wanted to be smart, so I took night classes and spent several hundred credit hours at Oakland Community College, Wayne State University and The College For Creative Studies. I was good at writing and good at art (my teachers said so). I wrote newspaper articles and a children's book that were published. And two novels and ten children's books that weren't. Once I had a job as an editor, but I wanted to be in the art department, so I became a graphic designer. I did that for a long time-years and years and years. Decades. I loved the work and handled the stress. Then I got breast cancer, decided life might be short, and started painting full time. There were art galleries, and art shows, and art fairs. When I got tired of doing that, I went back to writing. This time around: novels and memoirs. And that's what I'm doing now. For two weeks in the summer I write in an old trailer at the family farm in Wisconsin. The rest of the time I write in Michigan, a little outside Detroit, where I can see the Detroit Zoo water tower from my window.