Chapter Twenty-One
The year 1972 started off on a high note after Molly’s arrival. Then, on March 14, I attained the highest pinnacle of success to which a recording artist and songwriter could aspire: I was awarded four Grammys for my work on Tapestry. I didn’t accept the awards in person because the ceremony was in New York and I wanted to stay in California with my new baby. Along with his own Grammys, Lou accepted mine. With Tapestry now a multiplatinum-selling album that had wildly exceeded my teenage dreams, I didn’t know what to do with my success. I didn’t want the problems that came with being famous, and I didn’t want my private life to be public. I just wanted to do what I’d been doing as a wife and mother before the success of Tapestry. I made clothes for everyone in the family, tended our small garden, and occasionally went out for sushi lunch in Little Tokyo with my friend Stephanie. I taught at the Integral Yoga Institute and attended cooking classes at The Source. I continued to embarrass my Goffin daughters by bringing their vitamins to school. And I continued to bring home health food instead of the Cokes, Pepsis, and potato chips that Sherry wanted. When I said for the umpteenth time that health food was better for her, Sherry retaliated by saying, in a perfect imitation of my voice, “It’s nutritious!”
Charlie was home a lot that year. When he wasn’t playing with Jo Mama or helping care for Molly, he was in his studio practicing. He was determined not to miss the important moments of Molly’s first year. When we were invited to dinner, a party, or some other social event to which neither of us was interested in going, Charlie was usually the one who said no on behalf of both of us. I didn’t mind. Charlie was better than I at saying no.
I also continued to write and record songs. Because I was breastfeeding, I brought Molly with me to the studio. I had a bassinet that looked like a rectangular wicker basket, which I kept near the piano when I was recording. When I was working in the booth the bassinet was on a bench near the console. Molly didn’t seem to mind the noise and the activity. When she was ready to sleep, she slept. When she was awake she looked at the lights and the people and kicked her feet in the air with what looked like pure pleasure. When Charlie was in the studio he held her whenever he wasn’t recording. She cooed at him and made adorable baby faces at whoever else picked her up until she was ready for what only her mama could then provide. These lines from my song “Goodbye Don’t Mean I’m Gone” described my life in 1972.
But it’s all I can do to be a mother
(My baby’s in one hand, I’ve a pen in the other)
In a song called “Weekdays” I articulated the struggle by many women of my generation to balance feminist goals with traditional wife- and motherhood. The woman in that song was a character I created along with others in the Fantasy album.
Weekday mornings
Coffee smell in the air
After you’ve gone and the children have left for school
I’m alone and I think about all the plans we made
I think about all the dreams I had
And I wonder if I’m a fool
Weekday midday
I’ve got the marketing done
Plenty to do but nothing to tax my mind
That’s all right—it’s a habit
Heaven knows I can always watch the daytime shows
And I wonder which story’s mine
She loved a man she knew little about
After so many years of trying
So many years of doing without
Oh, but what’s the use of crying
Weekday evenings
We sit and I realize
You’ve dreamed, too, and I kind of understand
I’ve been with you and you need me to take care of you
But we’ll work it out so I’m a person, too
And we’ll help each other out the best that we can
’Cause I’m your woman and you’re my man
After Tapestry I would write and record six more albums for Ode: Music, Rhymes and Reasons, Fantasy, Wrap Around Joy, Thoroughbred, and Really Rosie.
Each of the six albums after Tapestry went either gold or platinum. Music sold over two million. All were extraordinarily successful by any standard short of the one established by Tapestry. People often ask me if I was disappointed when subsequent albums didn’t do as well. Some are skeptical when I say no. But I never expected Tapestry to achieve the success it did, and I saw no reason to expect that level of success to continue. I was just glad I could keep writing, recording, and making a good living while enjoying a normal life. The meaning of “normal” was open to interpretation, but in 1972, the year I turned thirty, my life felt pretty normal to me.