Bits and Pieces: My Mother, My Brother, and Me

by Whoopi Goldberg

Probably none of us had the childhoods we think we had. We only have our individual memories of what we believe happened. You can talk to siblings born two years apart, and they will give you different perspectives on the same event or experience in their childhoods.

Not everybody gets to walk this earth with folks who let you be exactly who you are and who give you the confidence to become exactly who you want to be.

“You’ve got two choices. You can waste a lot of time complaining, or you can get up and figure out how to fix it.”

As an adult, when folks heard where I grew up, they would act like I had survived a tough childhood. That’s not my memory. I always thought as long as I had my mom and Clyde, that everything was going to be good. We watched out for each other.

Her whole day-to-day perspective was to live in the most practical manner possible. For my mom, that meant not letting other people’s opinions take your attention or energy. She thought the most important opinion was what you thought of yourself and how you lived your life.

Usually, I’m up and padding around the house with my cat, Twilight. We’re both nocturnal. It’s a lifelong pattern for both of us. It sometimes makes other people, who might be staying at my house, feel disturbed. They’ll say, “What are you doing? Why are you up? Go to bed.” They only ask me, never the cat.

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I didn’t seem to need much sleep to be fine. I don’t know why. It’s just my make. My imagination is always busy. That has never changed. As a kid, I’d make up stories and give voices to inanimate objects in my room. Who could sleep when you’ve got your box of crayons having a conversation with your sneakers?

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The nuns who were my teachers in grammar school taught that there was right and there was wrong. And you didn’t want to do wrong because it was a sin and, depending on how bad it was, God was going to punish you. My mom taught me something even more effective. She taught me to make choices on my own that nobody else could make for me. Then I had to live with however those choices made me feel. I had to stand up. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t have to fear punishment from God. I only had to think about whether I could live with myself and my choices.

love this! if only everyone thought this way..