In Pieces

One of the themes that Field’s memoir addresses is how family relationships create a particular emotional and psychological legacy that lives on in the next generation. Field develops this theme by recounting her complex relationship with her mother, Margaret, a central figure in her life, whose influence on Field ranged from repression and neglect to love and encouragement.

Field portrays Margaret as an affectionate parent, describing how her mother was her main source of love and support growing up. Field often sought her comfort and advice, as “she was endlessly patient and supportive” (118). For instance, when the teenage Field was excluded by other girls at school and shut herself in the closet, her mother patiently listened to her problems. She explains, “Baa sat on the carpet, talking to me through the crack under the door for hours. She was always like that” (118). Her mother’s kindness and positivity made Field feel like she was her “backup generator,” always helping Field see the “little bit of sunshine” in difficult situations (118). Margaret’s constant support continued into Field’s adulthood, too, as she remained a trusted confidante to her daughter. The author recalls how she considered her mother the most trustworthy person in her life and thus asked her to care for her baby, telling her, “‘I can’t do this without you. I’m afraid to leave him with anyone […] But it wouldn’t hurt as badly if I could leave him with you” (337). Margaret’s loving parenting was a crucial part of her legacy and clearly influenced Field’s mothering as well. Field’s deep attachment to her children is evident throughout her work. For instance, she reveals the ongoing pain of being separated from her children while she was away at work. She includes a photo of herself on set for The Flying Nun, calling home to check on baby Peter, recalling how she “called a hundred times a day” to ask after him (334). Field’s memoir is dedicated to her three children, whom she speaks highly of throughout the book.

While Field inherited so many positive things from her mother’s example, their relationship had a darker side, too, one that Field was hesitant to acknowledge or explore. By recounting how her therapist helped her understand her deeply hidden resentment toward her mother, Field shows the depth of her emotional repression. Field explains that the two never discussed Jocko’s sexual abuse of Field during her childhood, a silence that created a “festering […] gnawing wound” between the two (532). Field admits in a diary entry how she often felt “remote” and “slightly perturbed” around her mother, despite their closeness (542). Margaret’s repression of her anger toward Jocko and her knowledge of some of his crimes tacitly encouraged Field to also remain silent on the matter. Field demonstrates the extent of this repression by including a diary entry revealing that she and her mother had discussed Jocko’s abuse at one time but she had quickly quashed the memory of this conversation: “Even then, I hadn’t wanted to know […] because even at that time, when I was middle-aged, I couldn’t bear the idea that she hadn’t run to my side, that she hadn’t come to get me” (543).

Only by unearthing her hurt and resentment could Field confront her mother honestly and undo her legacy of denial and repression. Field recalls their emotional hug afterwards, suggesting that their conversation healed wounds for both of them: “There we stood, not a mother and daughter, but one whole person” (556). Field’s nuanced examination of her relationship with her mother reveals the struggles and the joys of Margaret’s profound legacy at work in her life.