1047
(1 vote, average 4.00 out of 5)
Written by Daniel Goldin, Contributing writer
Jun 17, 2010
Back in the Sixties and Seventies, when a young boy was in his formative years there was no question of being openly gay. Yet there were a number of courses one could take. Most kids did a good job of blending in, some gave up and wore feather boas, and then there were those who tried but had the boa sticking out of their back pocket.
Eric Poole’s new memoir "Where's My Wand" (from Amy Einhorn Books) reminsces about his life in suburban Saint Louis in the mid-1970s. That life had a couple of extra burdens going for it. Of course, what is a burden at the time becomes a bonus when you’re looking for material.
For one thing, the Pooles were observant Southern Baptists. Not so religious that they couldn't indulge a glass of Mateus Rosé now and then, but observant, nonetheless. Oddly enough, his mom seemed to worship from a slightly rewritten Bible, one that had commandments like “Thou shalt scrub down the patio with Ajax, humbly” and “Honor thy living room by not setting foot in it.”
What Eric becomes convinced of, the glue that ties the anecdotes together, is that he can affect the future by wishing it so. While it’s not unusual to pray to a higher power, or even believe that following rules of superstition can affect reality, it is a little out of the ordinary to don a faux fur cape and pretend that you are Endora from “Bewitched.” My year of magical thinking, indeed.
In some ways, “Where’s my Wand” follows the formula for Augusten Burroughs’ “Running with Scissors” and several other recent memoirs. In addition to the magical-thinking angle, which Burroughs also subscribed to, there’s the “I slayed the demons of the closet with humor and lived to tell the tale” story. Unlike Burroughs’ story, Poole’s life, while over the top, does not seem so crazy that one might question its veracity.
Like any good life worth taking notes on, Eric’s life is filled with characters: a bullying schoolmate with no arms, a poker-playing, foul-mouthed grandmother, a naïve aunt desperate to show city kids the fun of wilderness living, a rival trumpet player who is very cocky and very short and show-offy family friends with perfect children.
As odd as Eric’s life can be, you strip away the craziness and there’s a classic coming-of-age story here. A closeted kid who can’t quite fit in needs to find something special that makes him accepted. You beg your older sister to continue being your friend when she’s discovered boys. You try to avoid the lunchroom at all costs. You try for approval from your parents. If that fails, you exaggerate, you lie – anything that might get you in good with somebody.
Poole is a funny writer, but I suspect it’s even more amusing if you are aware of the cultural touchstones. Eric decides to wow the folks at band audition with a rousing “Billy, Don’t be a Hero,” for example. Perhaps everyone can relate to the discomfort of trying out and falling on your face, but it’s funnier if you remember the goofiness of the song. If you don’t, think back to the recent “Glee” interpretation of “Run, Joey, Run.” It’s pretty much from the same songbook.
So I was trying to describe the book to my nephew, and he said to me, “I’m sorry, I didn’t really watch ‘Bewitched’ when I was a kid.” Really? It’s not still in reruns? How disturbing. And then I thought, there’s probably a whole generation of kids who don’t think it’s odd to be dressing up like exotic divas.
Nah, some things don’t change.
