Too Lazy to Chew

When I was in the seventh grade, our English teacher asked the class to write our autobiographies.  Just entering puberty, I had nothing much to write about.  Nor was I inclined to tell the truth lest anyone learn about the unpleasantness taking place in my home life.

So instead of revealing family secrets, I made light of my personal history.  Using exaggeration and a wry sense of humor, I fabricated an exciting pastiche.  The result was so stimulating that the teacher awarded me an A.

Since then I periodically thought of writing a memoir, but I had achieved nothing worthy of public proclamation.  Who would be interested in the doings of a vocational counselor or a college professor?  Nor was I going to write a “Mommie Dearest” expose of my past.

It was not until I entered psychotherapy for the second time that I began to write about what I experienced.  I did so at the behest of my therapist who explained that this would enable me to put what occurred in better perspective.

That was about two decades ago.  From then until recently, I had not even looked at what I produced.  When I did in conjunction with clearing up a lot of my previous writings, I found that it hung together pretty well.  I, of course, am not the best judge of the quality of my work, but I found it interesting.

As a consequence, I decided to complete my memoir and put it out for publication.  This has been accomplished and the work is now up on Amazon.  The paper back costs $12.00 (because it is longer than my other books), while the eBook is $5.00.

So first things first.  What is with my title; Too Lazy to Chew: A Memoir of Discovery?   This derives from my mother’s assessment of me when I was a toddler.  Because I resisted her efforts to feed me solid foods, she explained my behavior by concluding that I was too lazy to chew.

Much of what I wrote therefore concerns why I resisted her and ultimately how I discovered that I was not lazy at all.  Life, as I learned, is complicated; hence unraveling its intricacies can be painful and time consuming.  Moreover, what is discovered can be surprising.

In a way, my memoir can be regarded as a mystery story.  So much of our conduct is not understood even by us. This is because we feel impelled to move on without comprehending the painful springs of our motivation.  As it happens, I have spent more time investigating myself than most folks do.

My father warned against such things.  He believed that self-analysis was for crazy people.  It was an unproductive detour that strong individuals avoided.  Life was something that you simply did.  He was a physically active man who would not waste time on ephemeral nonsense.

Except that my father’s strategy did not work very well.  He thus ended his life in a darkened room brooding about a past that did not live up to his expectations.  I, on the other hand, have been more successful.  Instead of running from by bugaboos, I faced them head on and, miracle of miracles, defeated many of them.

How I achieved this is what my memoir is about.  Readers will find that it is a remarkably candid account that includes many of my embarrassing failures.  I decided that there was no point in sharing my history if I was again going to fictionalize it.

In any event, it will enable readers of my columns to figure out from whence my ideas derived.  I am, after all, a very atypical New York Jew.  As a conservative, who came from an extremely liberal background, breaking away and learning to think for myself took a lot of doing.

Toward the end, I also tell a love story.  For a long while, I believed that I would never marry.  I considered myself unlovable and therefore would never find a decent woman who would love me.  Happily for me, I was wrong.  My wife Linda and I are deeply in love.

In the end, one of my greatest discoveries was that I could chew. I am not talking about food, but about ideas and complicated questions.  I put in the effort to find out what personal change is about and what constitutes genuine love.

It is these insights that I believe are worth sharing.  For me, they were hard won.  Perhaps by making them public, I may ease the way for others. In any event, I hope that what I wrote is interesting enough for readers to find entertaining.

Melvyn L. Fein, Ph.D.

Professor Emeritus

Kennesaw State University