Paul sedaris

Sedaris family

Later I moved to Norfolk, Virginia, and met David for a drink one night when his tour was in town—or, rather, I had a martini and David, as I recall, had seltzer. After reading the piece, I remarked to my wife that Tiffany reminded me a lot of my older brother, Scott, the main subject of a memoir I was about to publish, The Splendid Things We Planned.

In many ways, both good and bad, he was more like me than anyone on Earth: He and only he would laugh at the same stupid shit that I did, and nowadays I often find myself laughing alone, and it will occur to me that Scott would have laughed just as hard. Before his local show on April 29, David and I met at the Skirvin Hilton in downtown Oklahoma City, across the street from where my father practiced law for almost 45 years.

Would you say that you had a relatively happy time growing up in your family? David Sedaris: I had a happy time with my family. I always felt safe with them. I always felt a part of them. When I think back on my childhood, I think of my siblings and me sitting around a table laughing with my mother. And I mean long after dinner was finished.

Gretchen sedaris photo

We did not leave the table the second we were done eating; my father would, and then we would all breathe a sigh of relief and talk for hours and hours. That sounds great. My heart would kind of sink when it was time to sit down for dinner with my family—or with Scott, anyway. He fucks up majorly, and after he begs forgiveness, you let him back.

Then he wrecks the car and goes to rehab. What saves a reader from feeling hopeless in your book is that you portray your brother as a remarkable person. A remarkable mess, but a remarkable person nonetheless.