Book Review: Becoming by Michelle Obama

If I had to use one word to describe Michelle Obama, it would be ‘unapologetic’. But one word is insufficient to describe her life, her heart and her honesty ~ a very no nonsense woman and, in her own words, a box checker. She came from a very loving supportive home, raised by hard working parents, Fraser and Marian Robinson, with an equally loving extended family. Some more difficult that others, but loving and loved. She was outspoken from a young age, not shy about speaking her mind. She and her brother Craig shared a room until as they got older and wall divided their bedroom was constructed. Writing of these early days elicited smiles and sometimes outright laughter from me. Excelling at school due to her own drive she always had the support and firm direction of her parents and extended family. Her father, Fraser, a quiet man, had a strong work ethic, never missing a day’s work despite having Multiple Sclerosis. When asked how he was feeling he always said that he was fine and there were times when he was not. Her mother, Marian, was a stay at home mom, until both Michelle and Craig were in Princeton.

Her ‘box checking’ involved getting a law degree, getting married, having children and a nice life. She achieved all these things but she had not counted on whom she would marry or how nice their life would be. As a junior lawyer, one of her assignments was to be advisor to a young hotshot lawyer. This ‘guy’ as she still refers to him was Barack Obama. He is not the ‘box checker’ type. Their friendship grew slowly until marriage ensued followed by two children - Malia and Sasha. The most humorous tell all was when Barack proposed to Michelle. I will just say he caught her very much off guard. The life in-between is what Michelle Obama shows her readers. Her great concern for how their children were raised, her life as a working mother and what she had to do to make it all work. A group of women friends, gathered over the years, were and still are her supports for laughter or tears.

She and Barack Obama have been and are devoted parents, despite the scheduled separation of life in the politic arena. The eight years in the White House were challenging and formative for the Obama family. The things that Michelle had to learn as First Lady were innumerable. Protocols, secret service agents, always riding in an armoured car, being under the media microscope, not to mention anyone with a cell phone, her clothes are only a few. At the same time, she tried to give her children some sort of a normal life in this bubble they lived in. One example - they had to make their own beds. It was, finally, the needs of children in the communities that seemed to give her direction within the bubble. One that would not be an intrusion on politics, as had been a problem when Hillary Clinton tried to get too involved in her years as First Lady. That being said, Michelle’s long term goal in her work with children, communities and schools did lead to productive legislation. 

Through it all, Michelle Obama, as many of us do, questioned herself, wondering if she was enough. An excellent read and definitely one I will keep on my book shelf.

“Am I good enough? Yes I am.”

~ Michelle Obama

Title: Becoming

Author: Michelle Obama

Copyright: 2018

Publisher: Crown registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC

Type: Biography

Format: Hard Cover

ISBN - 978-1-5247-6313-8

Ebook ISBN - 978-1-5247-6315-2

Seasonal Poetry

The joys of a spring afternoon,

lunching in brilliant sunshine,

this evening, snow fell

light and glittering,

trees warmed by the sun

cars dusted by snow

 “If winter comes, can spring be far behind?”

 ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, 

   Ode to the West Wind

Chapter Two, Episode Twenty-Eight - No One’s Perfect - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Update and Edit

The episodes for Situationally Theirs could be considered, just barely, short stories. This episode, No One's Perfect, is under the suggested minimum word count of 1000, but does fit Edgar Allan Poe's definition of “something readable in a single sitting.” Other elements are setting, a single plot, a central theme, and creating a distinct mood (from blurb.com). Reviewing this aloud, this episode satisfies those elements. 

I re-structured one sentence:

Original: 'Suddenly cold, she had stepped out of the sunshine as she rounded the corner to the back porch.' 

Re-structured:  'She stepped out of the sunshine and rounded the corner to the back porch. Shivering, she said....') 

No One's Perfect

Halo’s are seldom thought of as the purview of adults. A child asleep can be called angelic in one breath but in another when screaming and throwing a tantrum, there is not a halo to be seen. Although James had called Martha ‘his angel’, she did not feel the least bit angelic. Her normal kindness, that erased all errors from people other than herself, was well practiced. Miss Emelina, her sister Dez and all the staff that worked at the Beaufort Estate were all nice. That was the problem. Everyone was just too nice. No glaring faults. No bad behaviour. All the time. Not even Samuel. 

Recovering slowly from her bad bout of the flue had left Martha feeling tired; on top of the tiredness was all the niceness. No one even got angry about the sudden call off of the party! She was angry at herself and even the flowers in her garden. “Why on earth do you have to look so cheery? I should just pull you right out of the ground and throw you in with the weeds.” Martha reached down and pulled out the weed happily growing beside the daffodils, accidentally dislodging one of James' precious flowers. She got down on her knees and patted it back in place. “I'm not even interested any more in planning a wedding reception, even though I said I would.” Somewhere a stubborn little girl had taken hold. When a basically good person is confronted every day with limits and expectations and then is sick on top of it, it’s just too much. The straw that breaks the camel’s back. Martha was at that point. She really was a good person - and a very tired person. Tired of living with the worry of a viral infection, tired of taking care of the ‘Housekeeping’ that seemed to have no purpose other than giving her a job, tired of feeling weak and unable to do much more than yell at the flowers, tired of James fussing over her like she was some poor sick thing and he was her saviour. 

Tired of it all and she didn’t know what to do. She reached for some stray rocks and supported the poor daffodil at it’s base. Her knees were wet from kneeling on the grass. Getting up she felt one-hundred years old, every joint stiff and complaining. She stepped out of the sunshine and rounded the corner to the back porch. Shivering, she said “What do I do? Who do I talk to? James has gone for the day and I don’t want to talk to him anyway.” Just as she opened the back door, the phone rang. It was one of the old wooden, hang on the wall, phones with a real mouthpiece and a real ear piece. She and James had found it at an antique store when they were on their honeymoon. When they found out it was still workable, they decided it would be perfect for their cottage. “It’s probably Elizabeth calling. James only calls on my cell phone and I don’t think I gave Joanie this number - or maybe I did/?”

The phone was on the third ring when she answered it. “Hello? ….Hello?” All Martha could hear was a distant soft sobbing then a gravelly voice spoke “Martha, is that you?” 

“Samuel? Where are you? How did you get this number?’

“Just come over here, Martha. Elizabeth needs you. She won’t talk to me and I don’t know what to do.” Samuel’s voice shook and cracked.

Martha would have gotten her coat on while she was talking, but the phone cord was too short. She needed to end the call and get going. “Samuel, just calm down. Tell Elizabeth…no, I want you to get the tea kettle on. Tell Elizabeth I’m on my way over and will be there as quick as I can. James is in his office. While you’re waiting for me, just keep Elizabeth safe.” 

Martha hung up abruptly, scribbled a note to James and left it on the table. Forgetting how tired and angry she had been, she put a sweater and coat on, made sure she had good walking shoes on and left for Elizabeth's house. What was wrong didn’t matter. Her best friend was in trouble and she needed her.

“Time to stop crying, time to get her act together and

 do something. Time to move beyond the pity party.”

~ Lisa McMann, author