BEHIND THE SCENES OF “UNCLE RUBY’S BEDLINGTON LIFTS HIS LEG”
William Styron and John Irving are my favorite authors. Irving’s creative story telling skill is intimidating.
But I guess If I could sit down with either of them… probably at Ash Creek Saloon, over a whisky or two, it would be great just to hear them talk about how they generated an idea. What was the source to write such and such? Just to have a look into, what I call, their creative kitchen… where the recipes for stories are conjured.
I can offer no insight into the impetus behind Styron’s Sophie’s Choice or Irivng’s The Son of Circus; but I can share the genesis of my most recent piece.
“Uncle Ruby…” had its origin with the sectional couch that I inherited from Lynn and Alan. When I made the move from the Nest in Derby up to Woodbury the tan sectional became superfluous and after verifying that Alan and Lynn were not interested in re-acquiring the piece I made some inquiries. My kids were not in a position to take it on, although Shaina did say that she and John would certainly be interested on their “next move” (maybe a year off?).
In the meantime, after initially turning down the offer, Gary, himself on the move to his old digs on the Boulevard decided that it could use it.
I explained that he could use it; ’til one of the kids called in on it.
And there is the rub. Shaina has moved back up to Keene about a year earlier than anticipated.
I had to give Gary the news that I would be re-claiming the sectional much earlier than I had thought.
It brought about the following email exchange…
Gary: “Why do you favor your children over me?”
To which he added… Gary:”This will forever be known as the time when you decided to give the sectionals to Shaina over me.”
Then going for the dramatic… Gary:”They’ll write a musical, ‘And The Couch Went to His Daughter'”
Now that was damn funny, so I returned… “good title, we’ll see if Andrew Lloyd Webber can do it… too bad Rogers and Hammerstein aren’t around, I think it would be more them.”
Then from Gary: “Let’s see… My Fair Couch? The Sound of Cushions? ‘Some Enchanted Sofa'”?
To which I respond: “maybe we should take the music out and make it a tragedy… ‘Three Daughters of King Lear and the Davenport.'”
And then I quickly added, “or maybe, since we’re near the High Holidays ‘The Sacrifice of Abraham in the Lord’s Den (Near the Couch)’… informally known to theatre goers as Near the Couch. We’ll get Christopher Walken to play Abraham… and Rosie O’Donnell to play the couch.”
But then I have second thoughts, “If you still would prefer music, we could switch to opera…The Rape of Lucretia on the Sectional…”
Gary’s response: “Or ‘The Invisible Couch’?”
I return: “I think I am back to the theatre… A Streetcar Named Phlegm on the Sectional….”
And then I finally hit: “or maybe an original work… Uncle Rubie’s Bedlington Lift’s Its Leg…We’ll make them guess that it’s the sectional.”
Gary took one more shot: “Ok. ‘The Morning the Rabbi Slept Late but on the Sofa'”
Shit, that was funny as hell, too; but I had to call a halt to all this stuff… I concluded our chat: “I think we have to stop. I have to try an make a living… I guess I like Uncle Rubie’s Bedlington Lifts its Leg… the best… and as absurd as it sounds… I think I might try and write something around it…”
And that’s how “Uncle Ruby’s Bedlington Lifts Its Leg” was started. It became a writing exercise. In 7th Grade Mr. Hirata told us to empty our pockets on desks and write an essay about what we saw.
I had a title, now write a story. In the 7th Grade I agonized over my writing projects. This was going to be fun.
It seems, however, that “Uncle Ruby…” has been somewhat disorienting to family members, or those who are acquainted with my family history. I do a fair amount of writing about my childhood and family, and those stories are true and based on my memory. Folks… this is a story, although there are familiar ideas and names, it is nonetheless a story of my invention.
For those wishing to keep score.
1. I had no Uncle Lebby. Although my Great Uncle Jenks Cohen was in fact a bootlegger in New Haven, and he did have a reputation for sticking up for folks in the neighborhood. He was not considered a goniff by anyone in the family.
2. My Mother never told me to “mind my own business.” Ever.
3. My Father was not an accountant. He did graduate from New Haven High School (although I think he met my Mother in Junior High School). He attended Fordham University for one semester before joining the work force at J. Press in New Haven.
4. We had two Bedlington Terriers. Their names were Baa Baa and Rocky. They were in fact not housebroken, took repeated dumps behind the wing chair (and elsewhere) and lifted their legs with no sign of guilt or remorse on my Mother’s expensive drapes. Herman and Penny were the names of other pets: Old English Sheepdog and German Shepherd respectively.
5. There is a Shure Funeral Home. The name of the other Funeral Home was Weller. The Shures were indeed close friends of our family, and Mr. Shure’s observation about “burying his friends” was given to my Father.
6. There was an actual “lifting of the leg” event. For whatever reason, my Father decided that the Bedlingtons would also enjoy going with the family to the Drive-In to see a movie. Before the start of the movie, or maybe it was during intermission, he took Baa Baa with him to the concession stand. On the way to get snacks he bumped into someone he knew… and while he talked to the acquaintance, Baa Baa did indeed lift his leg and pee on Dad’s white flannel slacks.
Well… there it is. If you read “Uncle Ruby…” and felt it carried the same voice and quality of my other family/childhood pieces then I think I did well… and it would have been worth a “B” from Mr. Hirata, although I would have prayed for a “B+” (I don’t think I ever got an “A” from him in two years).
If you would like to join in on the fun… here is your assignment: He Didn’t Mean to Open Her Pocketbook.