Home Is Burning: A Memoir
Language: English
Pages: 320
ISBN: 125006886X
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
For fans of David Sedaris and Dave Eggers, a very funny book about very unfunny things.
"The funniest thing I've ever read - profane, self-aware, and ruthlessly honest. Dan Marshall might be a self-described spoiled white jerk, but he's also a depraved comedic genius." (Justin St. Germain, author of SON OF A GUN)
"Horrible. Hysterical. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Just like life." (Jenny Lawson, "New York Times" bestselling author of LET'S PRETEND THIS NEVER HAPPENED)
Dan's mom has always had cancer. First diagnosed when he was only ten years old, she was the model of resilience throughout his childhood, fighting her disease with tenacity and a mouth foul enough to make a sailor blush. But just as she faces a relapse, her husband is diagnosed with ALS. Dan, a recent college graduate living the good life in Los Angeles, has no choice but to return home to help.
Reinstalled in his parents' basement Dan is reunited with his siblings. His older sister Tiffany is resentful, having stayed closer to home to bear the brunt of their mother's illness. Younger brother Greg comes to lend a hand, giving up a journalism career and evenings cruising Chicago gay bars. Michelle, a sullen teenager is experimenting with drinking and flirting with her 35-year-old soccer coach. And baby sister Chelsea-the oddest duck in a family of misfits- lives in a dream world centered around dance. Together this unlikely group forms Team Terminal, going to battle against their parents' illnesses, and occasionally each other. Not even the family cats escape unscathed.
As Dan steps into his role as caregiver, wheelchair wrangler, and sibling referee, he watches pieces of his previous life slip away, and comes to realize that you don't get to choose when it's time to grow up.
visitors would then linger around, not sure exactly how to exit, probably thinking, This would be easier if it were just a car accident. They’d eventually give my dad one last hug and say, “Well, I’m going to go now. Great knowing you,” but then still hang around for a few more minutes, thinking they had to do or say more. It was awkward and uncomfortable for everyone. I wanted to tell people that they’d done everything they could and that they were good people for caring so much, but also to get
Ages ranged from four to seventeen, making Chelsea one of the oldest members. They’d have about four major performances a year, but they practiced nearly every night. Chelsea was still too afraid to drive—mainly because my lessons would mostly end in me yelling at her about how bad she was at driving—so we still had to drive her to her rehearsals. Driving her around was an extra chore, so eventually we started to pawn off the responsibility to the throngs of Mormon neighbors who felt bad about
take place. As I wheeled him into the kitchen, I saw a sea of Todd’s Mormon relatives snacking and drinking caffeine-free sodas. It was what I imagined hell looking like. Once I got into the kitchen, I yelled, “Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you, the father of the bride!” All heads turned to my poor, crippled father, trying to manage a smile, looking as sharp as a man with Lou Gehrig’s disease glued to a wheelchair can look. Everyone was stunned—shocked into silence. Eventually, Greg started
massages at the Nob Hill Spa, originally hoping they would be “Yay, we didn’t break up” massages. We were supposed to be there by 2 p.m., but I guessed since we had just broken up that we weren’t going. I took out my cell phone to cancel. “I got us nonrefundable massages, but I’m going to cancel,” I said. She stopped my dialing, the first time she had touched me since I started my crazy march on Berkeley. “Well, we can still go if you want,” she said. Still go? Are you fucking kidding me? I
myself that I wouldn’t ever do it. And putting holes in my brain isn’t really my thing. I’m not that smart as is,” I explained. “Well, I want to do some. I don’t mind the holes in my brain. I think it’d be fun,” she said. “You sure?” “Yeah. I’m sure. I shouldn’t. But, by all means, you can do some. You have some here?” She didn’t, but her drug dealer was always up because he’s a drug dealer. She called him. It was two in the morning, but he answered as if it was two in the afternoon. He said