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A Nook illuminating James Patterson’s latest thriller lies on the coffee table amongst several crossword puzzles left on the brink of completion. Sanded-down pencils lie on every surface of an otherwise pristine living room. As we sit down on beige couches, clarity dawns and she scribbles “DRAFT COPY” on 23- down, completing a puzzle. In response to a buzzer from the kitchen, she darts up with an apology, “We’ll get started as soon as I check the temperature on this roast!”
You may be thinking, “Laurette Emery must be a novelist or a cryptographer or a chef!” However, you would be wrong.
Laurette Emery invited me into her three-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath raised ranch on a sweltering 85-degree day. Despite the sunny climate, our talk turned to the harsh realities of the life that society imposes on us all.
Life has become so competitive; you have to be a standout just for consideration at an unpaid internship and self-worth is measured in “likes” and “favorites”. Emery, however, strayed from the path that life set out for her.
She made choices that an outsider would not expect from her. Holistically, Emery was meant for a different outcome, but the one she achieved can inspire us all to be content where we end up.
Emery grew up in a big family with two sisters and a brother. She had seven aunts and uncles, all with children of their own. Her mother grew up during the Depression and always told them they were poor, but Emery described it as “middle class.” Despite the extensive size of her family, their bonds were not as close as one would think.
“My own family, my sisters and I, there’s a big gap; we’re like seven years apart. So, they were in high school and I was just a little kid… We couldn’t do a lot together just because of the age difference. A lot of the time I felt like I was by myself.”
Suddenly it’s 1966 and we’re in the Emery family’s living room. A little television is the focal point of the room and the family huddles in front of it.
“My parents were always there. I think sometimes now the parents are absent, they have so many of their own activities now and back then that’s not how it was. We had one little TV with 3 stations and now my kids have a TV in every room. Sunday nights growing up were good because it was The Ed Sullivan Show and we’d always sit together and watch it. The Wizard of Oz was one of our family ‘things’ too. Whenever it was on we’d all sit and watch it together.”
That was one main point Emery hinted at often: how different society is now. From the young age of 5 or 6 she would be left to her own devices, never really supervised. Now, she says, with her own kids, nobody would do that. “It just wasn’t done,” she said, “It’s just not safe, you have people out there abducting children. Parents are tethered to their kids now.”
“Sometimes, even now when my kids are home, I find myself in the house by myself and it’s a novelty. I was always by myself as a kid. It’s a good thing I wasn’t inclined to get into trouble because if something had happened my mother wouldn’t know where to find me.“
When Emery talked about her hobbies and experiences as a child, she was always alone. Despite prying, she could not divulge the name of one close friend. She attributed her lapse in memory to her unconventional school situation.
Emery vividly remembers her first day of high school. Her knapsack is strapped flush to her spine. Her patent leather shoes click on the linoleum. They feel out of place amidst a sea of Converse. “We all went to Catholic schools. I was very isolated for many years. I went to school out of town, too, it was very regimented and you didn’t have a lot of leeway to do different things. I just accepted that that was normal. Then, when I moved to public school for high school, I was shocked because in between classes you just went anywhere that you wanted to. I wasn’t accustomed to that.”
Her early introduction to a structured environment made her a staunch supporter of the rules and bred a need for organization. While her separation from her peers is something she looks back on with regret in her eyes, her times spent alone manifested into a need to be independent in adulthood.
In 2007, Emery’s daughter came home with a challenging homework assignment. The prompt: What do you want to be when you grow up? Some classmates would express their dreams to be President, a ballerina, or an astronaut. Others would steer towards the attainable with doctor, teacher, or ice cream man. Laurette Emery had no personal context to share with her daughter.
In today’s society, that’s appalling.
She only attended one year of college, which we might call “under-achieving”. Yet, she makes a five-figure salary and is financially independent.
In 1984, Laurette has just quit her job at the fish market. Her long string of employers started with a factory job making electronic pieces, transformed into a factory job making lipstick tubes, and ends today with her resignation from the office at the docks. A friend helped her get an interview at Aetna and today is her first day.
“Luckily, the job that I got happened to suit my skills quite well. That was fortunate because I didn’t really have a plan, I didn’t have a career in mind.”
It’s 2015 again and we’re back at the raised ranch. Emery plays the piano in the living room, eyes downcast, a familiar tune with a title I cannot place. Her pursuits are solitary, but she makes it work. Sometimes it's not all about doing what society wants you to. She grew up in a huge family and went to a Catholic school. She should be extroverted, outgoing, and have all the connections in the world. She should have a college degree. She should have rich friends and love talking about herself. She's none of those things.
But, she's happy.
It took me some time to separate Laurette Emery, the isolated and directionless adolescent, from Laurette Wice, my demanding and dedicated mother. My memories of overhearing her chew out a coworker on a conference call and facing the brunt of a rant about how disorganized my room almost do not fit together with that woman.
Her life always seemed so routinized and effortless. It pushed me to make declarations of a career early on and bulk up a resume worthy of the life she provided me. In a way, knowing the backstory eases the pressure I’ve always felt to be perfect.
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