Pitch Uncertain

Pitch Uncertain (Maisie Houghton)

In May, I accepted a review copy of Pitch Uncertain, Houghton's memoir of growing up and finding her voice in the 1950s, but I didn't pick it up until last night. Only a dozen or so pages in, I realized how attentive I had become to her exploration of herself, her family, and, particularly, her parents' marriage. This is good, I murmured inwardly.

My mother guided me toward the dining room. "We must finish lunch," she murmured, rousing herself. The table looked half-ravaged, like my hair, with crumpled napkins and tired lettuce on the plates. I started to weep at the enormity of what I had done. Fat tears fell on my grilled cheese sandwich. "Don't fuss, darling," consoled my mother distractedly. She wasn't even looking at me.

There was an unspoken lesson in that afternoon. My mother should have been angry but instead she held her tongue. Was it at that point that I learned to guard the peace, to mind my manners, to keep my mouth shut?

On my report card, the music teacher wrote "pitch uncertain."

In school someone would grab me from behind on the playground: "whose side are you on? Lucy's?" -- the charismatic troublemaker, or "Kitten's?" -- the charismatic good-girl. It seemed easier -- and smarter -- to keep my mouth shut.

One day I came home from school tense, weepy from trying to please everyone. My mother uncharacteristically drew herself up and exhorted me to "Stick by your guns, have the courage of your convictions." Most important of all, "Be yourself!"

"But how do I know who I am?" I wondered.

Growing up, I swam like a fish in the clouded waters of family life.

Has anyone else read this?