MacDonald - The Egg and I

TO MY SISTER MARY

who has always believed that I can

do anything she puts her mind to

Contents

Betty MacDonald, our mother, is in print again. We are delighted. Her books, The Egg and I, The Plague and I, Anybody Can Do Anything, Onions in the Stew, the four Mrs. Piggle Wiggle books and our favorite, Nancy and Plum, continue to delight adults and children around the world.

Her first book, The Egg and I, was written in 1945, forty-two years ago, at a time when, according to some men, women werent supposed to be writers; they were supposed to stay at home, bake pies and have babies. If a woman was lucky enough to have a boy, she was lavished with presents and praise. If she was unlucky enough to give birth to a daughter (Its only a girl), she was rewarded with a pat on the leg, a new apron and warming phrases such as Better luck next time. An exaggeration, we know, but it sets the scene for how unprepared we were for a womanBetty MacDonald, our motherbecoming an overnight success and a best-selling author. We felt it was a wonderful dream that might be snatched away at any moment.

We lived on Vashon Island then, and at night we would sit around the fire trying to keep warm and talk about what we would do with the money if The Book sold 200 copies, maybe 400. Betty wanted a fireplace in every room and a big wide road down to the house so we wouldnt have to walk the narrow, vine-covered, slug-infested trail anymore. Instead of carrying our groceries in by knapsack one and a half miles, we could have them delivered. Don MacDonald, our father, wanted to buy a case of imported Scotch, a case of Moneys mushrooms and big locks for his closets so the girls couldnt get to his clothes. But no roadDon liked his privacy. We girls wanted blast furnaces installed in every room of our big, drafty house and a charge account at the Vashon Pharmacy so we could buy lipstick and nail polish. And we didnt want privacywe wanted The Road.

Two years later, The Egg and I was still number one on the national best-seller list. Betty got The Road and the fireplaces. We girls settled for radiant heat under the floors instead of blast furnaces plus the charge account at the Vashon drug store, which was to be kept under twenty-five dollars a month (which to us seemed like twenty-five hundred). Don got his case of very old, very expensive imported Scotch, his case of mushrooms and his big locks for his closet, which unfortunately for him didnt come with keys for some strange reason. Of course, he didnt know this until the locks were firmly and securely bolted in place.

Don and The Road was another matter. He was sure Bettys success was jeopardizing his privacy. We began to find catalogs on the kitchen table and in the bathroom with the corners of pages turned down. Things like electric fences and spikes that came out of the ground and popped tires on cars were circled and marked send for.

At breakfast one beautiful Saturday morning we were eating scrambled eggswith Dons mushrooms in themand Betty was telling Don that he had lots of privacy and that he was being a Big Black Future (a family expression) and that nobody knew where we lived and, besides, who would take the ferry clear over to Vashon and try to find our very hidden, very unmarked road? Practically an impossibility. Don wasnt convinced, and he had just started to respond when a baby in a stroller appeared outside the kitchen window, right in front of us. The baby had a large family behind her. They carried cameras, tapped their fingers on the window and said, Take another bite of egg, Betty. We laughed, Betty smiled obligingly and Don shouted, Gawd, Betty do something! and disappeared.

The fame had begun. Dons privacy was threatened but not destroyed. Ivan Dimitri, a Life magazine photographer, moved in with us for a week and took hundreds of pictures of Betty and us and Don, when he could find him. Dons voice was around more than Don was, constantly admonishing: Dont say that! We called him Dont Say That Don.

Betty shared her fame with her whole family, all of her friends and her fans. We took trips to New York and stayed at the Algonquin Hotel. We met famous people, ate at famous restaurants, wore our mothers new designer clothes, pinned and rolled up, saw Broadway shows, went to Hollywood, met movie stars and went to nightclubs, autographings, radio interviews and public appearances. Through all this, Betty, being so shy and modest, did not understand why anyone would want to meet her, let alone hear her make a speech. She always said she was a nervous, unfunny wreck who sounded just like Donald Duck. Grand, glorious and glamorous Betty kept her feetand ourson the ground. Summer trips to Hollywood, but home to summer jobs; spring vacations in Chicago and New York, but home to baby-sitting and after-school jobs.

If anyone asked what was the greatest thing she enjoyed about her success, she would say, Being recognized so you can cash a check anywhere.

When she saw in print everything from The Dredge and I (a dull Alaskan tome) to The Cook and I, The Fish and I, The Quilt and I, and on and on, her comment was, Id rather be copied than be the copier.

She answered all of her fan mail, most of it filed under People Who Want. Thousands of letter-writers asked her to collaborate with them on their work, as it would be a lot funnier, not dirty and more interesting; and they told her they would pay her, toomaybe. She replied with her always gracious out: My agents dont allow me to do collaboration work of any kind.

Examples:

Dear Mrs. MacDonald:

I have read your books and find them very cheerful. I write better of course but more sad. Send my manuscript to your agent and publisher and Ill give you half of my earnings.

Sincerely yours,

Greta Swenson

Dear Mrs. MacDonald:

For some time I have wondered about writing a book about my experiencemy beauty shoppefor the past sixteen years I have operate my shoppe in this Creole country. I hope it would bring enough money to justify my paying you to write it.

Yours truly,

Alma Quilter

There were rude, ungracious remarks: I didnt know you were so huge. (Betty was 59.) I didnt realize youd be soooo fat.

We are certain that if Betty were alive today, she would address the plight of the American Indian in a much different manner. We feel that she only meant to turn what was to her a frightening situation into a lighthearted encounter. Remember, she had been brought up to be a ladyone who in those days was completely unprepared to handle the problems she dealt with so blithely in The Egg.

Through all of the funny, ugly, sad, painful, joyful times, she always shared with and gave to her reading public. She is still sharing through her books. The ability to laugh at herself and to make others laugh and her lovely spirit of optimism are as real today as they were then.

Betty MacDonald: a unique, loving, fascinating, funny, never dull, enormously talented mother is now in print again.

Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband.

SHAKESPEARE

A LONG with teaching us that lamb must be cooked with garlic and that a lady never scratches her head or spits, my mother taught my sisters and me that it is a wifes bounden duty to see that her husband is happy in his work. First make sure that your husband is doing the kind of work he enjoys and is best fitted for and then cheerfully accept whatever it entails. If you marry a doctor, dont whine because he doesnt keep the hours of a shoe clerk, and by the same token if you marry a shoe clerk, dont complain because he doesnt make as much money as a doctor. Be satisfied that he works regular hours, Mother told us.