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Growing up in rural Alaska, Jewel Kilcher could often accompany her singer father to bars and sing alongside him. It would become, as she now calls it, an adult education in more ways than one. "Men would put a dime in my hand and say, 'call me when you're 16. You'll be great to f*** when you're older, " she laughs drily. "I learned to be so careful with my energy. By the time I got to the [music] industry, I was completely like 'I'm talented and you will take me seriously, or I'll just go somewhere else'. I didn't need to be famous any more than I needed my dignity. " With an old head on preternaturally young shoulders, Jewel would write most of the songs for her debut, Pieces of You, when she was around 15 or 16. The album, which was released 25 years ago, was soaked in lore. Jewel had spent much of the year previously sleeping in her car in the streets of San Diego. But what sounds like a romantically dogged pursuit of one's musical dreams was much more sinister in reality.
THIS BLOG USES COOKIES..... You would think that telling a story to a bunch of listeners is safer than writing one down. When I was in New York a few years ago, I told a story about an exciting sex adventure with a lover who was 20 years younger than me. As the mother of 3 millennials there is no way I was going to have that story told anywhere other than a continent away from my children's ears and nowhere that it could be found online. In Seattle I went on stage with a story about a dildo, and this time I even ventured to g ive a tamer version of it in Germany, at the Loose Lips storytelling even t that was being hosted by no other than my own son. Telling a story is safe because there is no real evidence other than other people's version and interpretation of it. No matter what you tell, all that can be passed on are other peoples version of it, combined with my denial of ever saying anything remotely close to what I really did say. So when the topic las t week at Loose Lips was Forgiveness and/or Betrayal, I began to get stuck.
So I told the story of the ex boyfriend who was a serial liar and how indignant he was at being ditched just for telling a few lies about two timing me. It managed to get a laugh and I followed it up with a short lecture on the topic of forgiveness. You see I have this theory that forgiveness is not really something that you decide to do or not do, it has to come. Well, to me it does. For many years I could never find a reason to forgive the man who abused me as a child. ( In Ireland we use words like abuse and molestation to soften the blow of hearing about child rape. ) And in Ireland, abuse was not a very uncommon thing when I was growing up. In fact, looking back today, on the abuse histories that have become public, I hardly make the grade – it wasn't a priest or a person of authority, or better still a Rockstar or celebrity like say Jimmy Saville or Gary Glitter. I was a huge fan of Gary Glitter at the age of ten. If I was going to be abused, why the hell could it not have been him, I even had his poster on my bedroom wall.
No, it was just a random uncle. Not even a blood relative, one that married in to the family. A boring chef who looked a bit like Elvis and made me feel like it was all my fault that he had become a paedophile. But that's Irish guilt for you. We were reared on it. Years later I decided to confront the bastard. I had just returned to Ireland after many years abroad and by now I had kids of my own. This guy was still on the loose and I wondered what my kids would think of me when they were older if they asked me 'hey mom, what did you do about it when that uncle molested you? ' What if my answer was 'nothing'? That thought drove me to the cops and then the whole thing was exposed. (Pardon the pun). When t he was confronted with it and not only vehemently denied it, but tried to claim that it must have been my father (who died when I was 14) who had abused me and that I was all confused now, what with the passing of time, I was even more sure that forgiveness did not belong anywhere in this story.