Childhood isn't always easy. We can learn a lot by reflecting on our own childhoods and by listening to the stories of others. Read an exclusive excerpt from the memoir Mom and Dad's Martinis by Jacelyn Cane and then follow the tour for even more. Best of luck entering the giveaway!
Jacelyn Cane's mom and dad liked their martinis dry: straight gin on the rocks with a dab of vermouth and a hint of water - and they liked them often. They also liked to party; they danced, socialized, and drank - they were good at all three. Sometimes this behaviour led to humorous situations - antics in the pool, at the club, the cottage or in the car, for example. Other times, however, the experiences were not so funny - family fights and times of neglect, trauma, and abuse. By weaving together a series of episodes that take the reader to light and dark places, author Jacelyn Cane tells a poignant cautionary tale for anyone affected by alcoholism and/or family struggles. The author is using a pseudonym and most of the names in the book have been changed to protect people's identities. "Mom and Dad's Martinis: A Memoir" is a great read for anyone who has experienced a childhood mixed with joy as well as sorrow. It is a story of love, acceptance, forgiveness, and hope.
Read an exclusive excerpt:
After their honeymoon in the Bahamas, my parents moved into a two-bedroom apartment at Yonge and Sheppard in Toronto. The neighbourhood was much quieter and quite a distance away from where either of my parents had grown up. My mother’s cooking agreed with my dad so much that he gained fifty pounds in their first year of marriage. Eighteen months after their wedding, my brother Duncan was born. Parenthood didn’t stop Mom and Dad from having the odd party. In fact, the landlord asked them to stop entertaining because of all the noise. My dad argued with him, but eventually agreed to curtail the partying.
My parents did decide to have a party one Sunday afternoon to celebrate my brother’s first birthday though. Mom and Dad invited both sets of grandparents, and great-grandparents, along with aunts and uncles, to drop in for a piece of cake. Harmless enough, or so they thought.
It was raining, and all their guests’ galoshes were lined up outside the apartment. Inside, my grandfather was telling his famous corny jokes. “Why shouldn’t you write with a broken pencil?” he asked, his voice booming from the depths of his rotund frame. “Because it’s pointless. Get it?” Everyone howled with laughter just because Grandpa got such a kick out of himself. “Here’s another one: ‘What’s a golf club’s favourite type of music?”
“I don’t know, Dad,” said my mother.
“Why, swing of course!” My grandfather gave a loud belly laugh. Everyone roared.
Shortly after, Dad took out his ukulele. He was a virtuoso - even back then. Together they sang “All of Me,” “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm,” and “Happy Days Are Here Again.” They finished with a rousing round of “Happy Birthday” for my brother. There was nothing quiet about their singing.
The landlord, Mr. Perkins, heard the ruckus. He stuck his thumbs in the straps of his overalls. Those low-lifes. Down he went to his workroom, grabbed some tools, and returned to the hallway outside my parents’ apartment. With great determination, he meticulously drove a nail or two through the inner sole of every boot, until all the rubbers were nailed to the floor.
Eventually the music died down, and it came time for the relatives to go home. My grandmother, attempted to slip into her boot. “Gracious, me …” She floundered and fell over, as her stylish blue “pancake” hat slid off her head.
My great-grandmother tried to put on her galoshes. She shrieked and lurched forward, bringing my great uncle down with her.
“Oh, mother, I’m so sorry!” Uncle Donald said, as he rolled off his mother, stood up and tripped over a great aunt whose feet were caught in her nailed-down rubbers.
My parents watched helplessly as family members tumbled on top of each other, landing in a heap.
“Here, give me your hand,” said my mother. With her baby son in one arm, she tried to help aunts and uncles up with the other. My father managed to lift my great-grandmother up off the ground relatively unscathed.
“That jerk nailed everything to the floor,” said Dad. He darted into the apartment, came out with a hammer and frantically dislodged the nails. Initially, my parents were embarrassed by this incident. Soon, however, they laughed, and the tale went into the canon of classic Cane stories.
Buy Links:
Website: http://jacelyncane.com
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ReplyDeleteThanks for hosting. I hope you check out this humorous and impactful book!
ReplyDelete“Mom and Dad’s Martini’s is a powerful and deeply honest memoir that opens the door for families to talk openly about the insidious impact that alcohol can have on every small and big moment in life. The book is chocked full of stories filled with shenanigans, music, nature and affluence and, of course, alcohol. Although trauma and pain are pervasive themes, deep love, commitment and the promise of healing are always present.
A must read! Bravo Jacelyn Cane!” – Valerity, Goodreads Reviewer