Let's Become Strangers
By Laura Nejako
5/5
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About this ebook
"I always knew that, someday, enthusiasm over a kitchen appliance would mark the beginning of my descent into old age. However, I thought I had at least until the end of my mid-twenties."
After the dissolution of her carefully set plans, twenty-three-year-old author Laura Nejako finds herself single, living wit
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Reviews for Let's Become Strangers
1 rating1 review
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I really enjoyed this poignant collection of essays told through the eyes of a young professional. Well-written, relatable, funny, and wise.
Book preview
Let's Become Strangers - Laura Nejako
Let’s Become Strangers
Let’s Become Strangers
Laura Nejako
New Degree Press
Copyright © 2022 Laura Nejako
All rights reserved.
Let’s Become Strangers
ISBN
979-8-88504-572-8 Paperback
979-8-88504-897-2 Kindle Ebook
979-8-88504-688-6 Ebook
Contents
Author’s Note
From the Journal Under My Bed (July to September)
The Problem Child
Till Murder Do Us Part
An Unmarried Dog Lady
From the Journal Under My Bed (October to November)
A Recipe for Success
Why We Ghost
Lydia
Does This Snail Mucin Make Me Beautiful?
From the Journal Under My Bed (December)
Lost in Translation
Unpaid Debts
A Gathering of Jawns
The Things We Can’t Remember
Leave No Trace
Acknowledgments
Appendix
For those who are lost and all librarians.
Author’s Note
Years ago, my dad was kicked out of a David Sedaris reading.
Well, kicked out
might not be the right phrasing as much as politely asked to leave by the prominent American humorist, radio contributor, and essayist himself.
Two weeks prior, my dad, whose name is also David, called to say that he was invited to the Sedaris reading by my Aunt Beth after I begrudgingly turned down the chance to go myself (since I lived four hours away). My dad spent the days leading up to the event reading Sedaris’s book Me Talk Pretty One Day and reading his interviews in preparation. At one point, he even asked me if I had any questions for Sedaris since he knew he was one of my favorite authors. I gave him a list, including thought-provoking questions like What kinds of things should one ask a stranger in order to hear an interesting response?
and How do you use public readings as a way to test reactions to published stories?
It should be noted that my dad works as a psychotherapist. While most of us read David Sedaris’s writing and think Wow, that’s poignant, my dad saw Sedaris’s family-centered autobiographical essays as a chance for psychoanalysis. I know this because my dad, after waiting in line for two hours just to get a signed copy for me, walked up to David Sedaris and asked, Would you describe your family as dysfunctional?
My dad, in his two weeks of preparation and research, hadn’t realized that this is the absolute worst question that he could’ve asked. In the introduction to The Best of Me, Sedaris writes, It bothers me then when someone refers to my family as ‘dysfunctional.’ That word is overused, at least in the United States, and more to the point, it’s wrongly used. My father hoarding food inside my sister’s vagina would be dysfunctional. His hoarding it beneath the bathroom sink, as he is wont to do, is, at best, quirky and at worst unsanitary.
Sedaris’s bodyguards heard my dad’s question and moved closer to protect the famous author from this line of inquiry. In a moment that Sedaris must have understood as an encounter with someone who’s only vaguely familiar with his work, he turned to my dad and said in a controlled voice, No, I would not.
I like to imagine my dad’s reaction in this moment—likely the subtle head nod and silence that became familiar to me after saying things like I’m a pescetarian now
or I’m moving out.
For my dad, this subdued reaction is a way of looking like he’s already processed what you’ve said before reaching any conclusions.
At this point in the retelling, the narrative divulges into two distinct perspectives. According to my Aunt Beth, she shouted David!
(at my dad—not Sedaris) and pulled him away by the arm once David (Sedaris—not my dad) asked them to leave. Perhaps she said this in the voice of Alexis Rose from Schitt’s Creek.
In my dad’s version, he stayed long enough to get a copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day signed. Since the signed copy exists, I choose to believe that David Sedaris tolerated my dad’s question long enough to take the time to write Laura—Good Luck with Your P(rose sticker).
This story stays with me—not only because it exemplifies what a good dad I have—but also because it makes me consider the consequences of writing autobiographical content. David Sedaris writes of a family that is loveable and eclectic. To my dad, after only seeing essay snippets, he saw a potentially dysfunctional family.
I first wrote of my family in my graduate thesis titled Why We Don’t Talk. This short story collection examines the unspoken conflict that occurs in human interaction. This silence is often subtle, and dramatic in being unannounced—a mediation on never truly understanding another person. The majority of these stories emerged from overheard conversations while I sat riding the bus to and from campus in grad school.
After my grandmother fell while out walking her dog one morning, I shifted the focus of these stories from a reflection on the lives of strangers to a meditation on trying to better understand those with whom I feel the closest. The resulting stories were fictionalized attempts to answer questions of truth and understand preconceived notions of ownership. One of these stories, Audelia,
was centered on the year I spent living with my grandmother and her post-accident recovery. I feared that in fictionalizing the truth behind her story, I was taking away her agency in being able to tell her life as she actually experienced it. While I knew that I would one day revisit the question of unspoken conflict in my writing, I was afraid that a closer examination would involve telling more of my family’s stories.
During the pandemic, I moved in with my parents and saw few other people. For the first time since I moved out to go to college, my world once again revolved around them. These shifts occur naturally through time—often a person moves out and eventually starts their own family. The pandemic disrupted this timeline for me. I went from an adolescent living with her parents, to an undergraduate student living with friends, to a graduate student living with her grandmother, to a woman living with her then-boyfriend, and then to an adult living with her parents. My parents’ stories became interwoven with mine once again, and I decided to reattempt to answer the question of the ownership of our shared stories.
I chose humor as a genre simply for the fact that I was a twenty-three-year-old who turned to comedy while struggling with questions of identity, and I wanted to create something positive in a world that was growing increasingly isolating and bleak.
In this writing process, the same questions kept coming up: Do I have a right to tell these stories? Is the act of characterizing my family and friends a betrayal of the most intimate parts of their lives?
My sincere hope is that these stories centered on topics of pandemic beauty routines, dating horror stories, and the desire to find community resonate with readers. I cannot tell you how to read these stories any more than David Sedaris can control how others might perceive his family.
The title of this essay collection, Let’s Become Strangers, is not a request for further isolation. Rather, it’s a commentary on the fact that leaving behind your preconceived notions of those you encounter and recognizing that their life is as complex as your own, is often the best way to portray someone’s truth.
If I’m ever lucky enough to host a reading of my own and someone approaches me to sign a book for their daughter—despite what else they may say during this request—I can’t promise that I’ll be as patient as David Sedaris.
However, please ask the questions that everyone else is afraid to. You might end up in a story.
(Please also know that I spend each day waiting for my dad to appear in a Sedaris essay. As of the publication of this book, he appears only in mine.)
Chapter 1
From the Journal Under My Bed (July to September)
July 17, 2021
Finn’s doggy daycare has cameras where you can watch to see if your pet is being bullied by the employees. So far on the cameras, I have witnessed the following:
1. Finn drinking out of the dirty mop bucket that is next to the clean, filtered water dispenser.
2. Finn hiding in a cage in the corner while the other dogs actually play with each other.
3. Finn starting a room-wide barking revolution against peace and quiet.
4. A lot of butt-sniffing.
5. A Bichon Frise who likes to eat the poop of other dogs as it’s still exiting their bodies.
6. A clearly favorited Border Collie who is dog-of-the-week
for the fifth week in a row.
7. A distinct lack of animal mistreatment.
Finn only interacted with one dog before hiding in the corner, so I’m not sure what horrible secrets he gleaned from sniffing that puggle’s butt.
July 18, 2021
My parents are always saying things like You’re welcome here any time,
but after three days they’ll start asking me to paint the house. Once I make the dreaded transition from guest to child, it’s time to go. They housed me for eighteen years, and they don’t want to much longer. I get it.
As