I Hear Voices
A Memoir of Love, Death, and the Radio
Publication Year: 2011
Jean Feraca’s road to self-fulfillment has been as quirky and demanding as the characters in her incredible memoir. A veteran of several decades of public radio broadcasting, Feraca is also a writer and a poet. She is a talk show host beloved for her unique mixture of the humanities, poetry, and journalism, and is the creator of the pioneering international cultural affairs radio program Here on Earth: Radio without Borders.
In this searing memoir, Feraca traces her own emergence. She pulls back the curtain on her private life, revealing unforgettable portraits of the characters in her brawling Italian-American family: Jenny, the grandmother, the devil woman who threw Casey Stengel down an excavation pit; Dolly, the mother, a cross between Long John Silver and the Wife of Bath, who in battling mental illness becomes the scourge of a Lutheran nursing home; and Stephen, the brilliant but troubled older brother, an anthropologist adopted by a Sioux tribe. In a new chapter that reinforces and ties together the book’s exploration of the multiple forms of love, Jean introduces us to Roger, a Wildman and her husband’s best friend with whom she, too, develops an extraordinary intimacy. A selection of fifteen of Feraca’s poems add counterpoint to her engaging prose.
Published by: University of Wisconsin Press
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This is not the book I intended to write. It is a much better book. For that, two people are primarily responsible: Molly Peacock, my friend and collaborator, who guided me through the first two . . .
1. My Brother/The Other, the mystery at the beginning
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My brother Stephen died of lung cancer on June 29, the feast of St. Peter and St. Paul. To watch somebody with a life force that verged on the diabolic reduced . . .
2. “Dolly”, the mystery at the end
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My mother was a monster who lived well into her nineties. Toward the end of her life, much to my surprise, I grew to love her. I loved her fiercely, in fact. It was the monster . . .
3. Get Thee to a Winery, the mystery of love
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“We don’t want you to swim alone.”
That was it—the only restriction to be imposed on the month of Sundays I was about to spend in a Benedictine monastery. I could . . .
4. Why I Wore Aunt Tootsie’s Nightgown, everything most precious
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Everyone remembers how unseasonably cold it was the day Alan and I were married. It was Saturday, the sixth of June. Dark-barred clouds threatened rain all day as the temperature kept . . .
5. Caves, art . . . if it be noble
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In Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave,” human beings live all their lives in an underground den with their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move or look behind them toward . . .
6. A North American in the Amazon, labor . . . if it be worthy
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It is dark in the Amazon where it is often overcast and raining, and vision is obscured by mists and downpours. The river T. S. Eliot called the “brown god” is muddy along most . . .
7. A Big Enough God, thought . . . if it be inspired
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He likes clean lines. I like rococo clutter. We have tchotchke wars. Soon after we were married and I moved in and began redecorating, he imposed the . . .
8. Roger and Me, Too, “Il piacere e ‘tutta’ mio”
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There is no word in English to describe the special closeness that sometimes binds a man and a woman who are never lovers, but more than friends. Had Roger and I met decades . . .
9. Selected Poems
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Publication Year: 2011
Edition: Expanded with a new chapter and poems