There are at least twelve plastic legal-size storage boxes in my attic stuffed with family, travel and holiday photos going back to the early 1900s. I dragged and plowed through all of them to find the picture of me at age three that is now on the cover of my new book Chatterbox: Stories from a Noisy Life.
Out of the thousands of photos in my attic, this is my favorite photo of me. It perhaps best depicts who I was and who I became. I look at this picture and remember that my brother who was born when I was three was also at the photographer’s studio that day for his requisite baby on a bearskin rug photo. The watch was a gift from my Aunt Dolly who took me to work with her in downtown New York long before “Take Your Daughters To Work Day.” The book, likely a prop from the photographer’s shelf, reminds me that my mother used to read me to sleep. My outfit is adorable (thanks, Mom) and reminds me of Heidi and my dad’s Dutch German roots. There is no self-consciousness, insecurity or doubt in my bright black-and-white face, and if I squint real hard, I can see now 75-year-old me.
The title: Why Chatterbox? Why a Noisy Life? If you know me, you’ve already got the answers to both questions. But if we haven’t met, I’ll just say I used to talk a lot when I was a kid — not that anyone listened. Noise levels in my family home with music playing constantly and parents, aunts, uncles and cousins talking all at once were deafening. But the deeper answers to both questions are more complicated. In my stories about pasta sauce, Tonette permanents, marching for good causes, The Beatles, best friends, mean girls, teddy bears, Mary Janes, Audrey Hepburn, Frank Sinatra, plastic slipcovers, gold lame, mortal sins, leisure suits, unmatched heroism and sleepless nights, you might come to understand. You might also, I suspect, see a little bit of yourself and what it means to be human in all its weird and wonderful ways in my stories. I hope so.
One last thing. A favor. If you read Chatterbox: Stories from a Noisy Life, March 18 from Susan Schadt Press, available online and at independent booksellers, please write me at barbara@barbaraworton.com and share one of your stories. Let’s keep getting to know each other. I think it can only make the world a better place. Thank you.
