Probably none of us had the childhoods we think we had. We only have our individual memories of what we believe happened. You can talk to siblings born two years apart, and they will give you different perspectives on the same event or experience in their childhoods.
So, what’s that supposed to mean? We can’t trust our memories? You know, yeah. That’s exactly what it means.
When my mother died unexpectedly in August 2010, it took me a while to feel the full effect of her being gone. I still had my older brother, Clyde. As long as he was with me, I had my home base. There were only the three of us in my family: Mother, Brother, and me. I knew Clyde and I would be okay. We were both in our fifties, so I thought I’d have my brother in my life for at least another twenty-five years.
Then, five years after my mom passed, Clyde suddenly died of an aneurysm. I was stunned by it, but not really surprised in a way. He was different after our mom died. Losing her was devastating beyond words for Clyde, more than he could share with me. When she died, a large part of my brother disappeared with her. Most people couldn’t see it, but I did.
After Clyde died, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I wasn’t ready to feel so alone. Being an orphan hit me much harder. I wanted to crawl into a cave and hole up. But my work schedule wouldn’t allow for it. I carried on . . . feeling flat. That’s all I could do. I couldn’t kick and scream or stomp my feet. That would change nothing.
Suddenly I felt there might be many loose ends and unanswered questions. But, at the same time, I had no proof that there were loose ends to resolve. I began to doubt if any of my memories were real, or if they were something I saw or read a long time ago.
Clyde was the only brain I had on my memories, the only witness to my growing-up years.
I used to ask him, “Am I crazy? Did this really happen?”
And he’d say something like, “It happened, Sis, but it was during this time or that time.” Or, “We did go there during that time, and here’s why . . .”
Now, I no longer have Clyde to set me straight. I have no one left to ask.
It’s this thing we all have to face, the death of those who knew you the best, the people in your life story. I am very lonely for my family. I get lonely for the two of them.
I really should start this book by saying it’s possible that nothing in this book happened, or it’s possible that nothing I have written in this book happened the way I say it did. I never kept journals or datebooks. I don’t know the calendar year for many of my memories or even my age at the time.
You might be asking, “Why are you writing a memoir, then?”
Because the two most magnificent people I’ve ever known were my mother, Emma, and my brother, Clyde, and they had almost everything to do with how I became the person I am.
Also, I can sense that my memories of my mom, which used to fire strong like a torch, have now become more of a flicker in the thirteen years since she passed away. I know the same will happen with Clyde, so I want to put them down in words before they fade further.
In addition to all the great roles I’ve played in movies, TV, and on stage, in character or as myself over the years, I’ve also done a lot of writing. I’ve written solo shows, comedy sketches, songs, host monologues for the Oscars, storybooks for kids, a black girl’s Alice in Wonderland, and published books about relationships, aging, political and social issues, and even manners.
Now it’s time for a book about my nucleus family: my brother, Clyde, and especially about my mother, because none of the other stuff would have happened for me without her. I never doubted that she loved me for exactly who I was. My mom made me believe I could do anything I wanted. When I told her that I thought that would be acting, she listened, had conversations with me about it, and backed me up. Because of my mom, I was able to go from being Caryn Johnson, the “little weird kid” from the projects who no one ever expected to achieve all that much, to being me, Whoopi Goldberg.
I know how lucky I was and am. Not everybody gets to walk this earth with folks who let you be exactly who you are and who give you the confidence to become exactly who you want to be. So, I thought I’d share mine with you.