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Grove Press, the publisher, is calling book the “poignant” story of growing up in conflicting worlds and dealing with the emotional ups and downs that come with having a famous and unpredictable genius for a dad. This is the first time Brennan-Jobs has written at length about her father, who initially refused to pay child-support payments to her mother. Jobs died in 2011 at 56 of complications from pancreatic cancer. The excerpt, published in Vanity Fair’s September issue, opens with a literary rendering of Jobs’ final days, presided over by a Buddhist monk who instructed a visiting Lisa to “touch his feet.” Jobs converted to Buddhism at a young age. Brennan-Jobs describes visiting her sick father every weekend and trying to fit in around her stepmother, Laurene Powell, and her three half-siblings.
Here are some notable passages from the excerpts featured in Vanity Fair, a piece entitled “Growing up Jobs” that contains this teaser, “Steve Jobs and Chrisann Brennan were 23 when their daughter was born, Lisa Brennan-Jobs remembers the pride and pain of a childhood spent navigating the vastness between her struggling single mom and Apple’s mercurial founder.”, The Opening, “Three months before he died, I began to steal things from my father’s house, I wandered around barefoot and slipped objects into my pockets, I took blush, toothpaste, two chipped finger bowls in celadon blue, a bottle ballet slippers near me of nail polish, a pair of worn patent-leather ballet slippers, and four faded white pillowcases the color of old teeth. After stealing each item, I felt sated, I promised myself that this would be the last time, But soon the urge to take something else would arrive again like thirst.”..
“(Jobs) was propped up in bed, wearing shorts. His legs were bare and thin as arms, bent up like a grasshopper’s. “’Hey, Lis,’ he said. “Segyu Rinpoche stood beside him. He’d been around recently when I came to visit. A short Brazilian man with sparkling brown eyes, the Rinpoche was a Buddhist monk with a scratchy voice who wore brown robes over a round belly. We called him by his title. Near us, a black canvas bag of nutrients hummed with a motor and a pump, the tube disappearing somewhere under my father’s sheets.”.
A Stranger in her Father’s House, “Later, I would put everything back, But now, between avoiding the housekeeper, my brother and sisters, and my stepmother around the house so I wouldn’t be caught stealing things or hurt when they didn’t ballet slippers near me acknowledge me or reply to my hellos, and spraying myself in the darkened bathroom to feel less like I was disappearing—because inside the falling mist I had a sense of having an outline again—making efforts to see my sick father in his room began to feel like a burden, a nuisance.”..
The Rose-Flavored Facial Spray. “For the past year I’d visited for a weekend every other month or so. “I’d given up on the possibility of a grand reconciliation, the kind in the movies, but I kept coming anyway. “Before I said good-bye, I went to the bathroom to mist one more time. The spray was natural, which meant that over the course of a few minutes it no longer smelled sharp like roses, but fetid and stinky like a swamp, although I didn’t realize it at the time. “As I came into his room, he was getting into a standing position. I watched him gather both his legs in one arm, twist himself 90 degrees by pushing against the headboard with the other arm, and then use both arms to hoist his own legs over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. When we hugged, I could feel his vertebrae, his ribs. He smelled musty, like medicine sweat.
‘“I’ll be back soon,’ I said, “We detached, and I started walking away, ‘“Lis?’, ‘“Yeah?’, ‘“You smell like a toilet.”’, “Not my kid”, “In the spring of 1978, when my parents were 23, my mother gave birth to me on their friend Robert’s farm in Oregon, with ballet slippers near me the help of two midwives, The labor and delivery took three hours, start to finish, My father arrived a few days later, ‘It’s not my kid,’ he kept telling everyone at the farm, but he’d flown there to meet me anyway, I had black hair and a big nose, and Robert said, ‘She sure looks like you.’”..
The Kid and the Computer. “During the time my mother was pregnant, my father started work on a computer that would later be called the Lisa. It was the precursor to the Macintosh, the first mass-market computer with an external mouse—the mouse as large as a block of cheese. But it was too expensive, a commercial failure; my father began on the team working for it, but then started working against it, competing against it, on the Mac team. The Lisa computer was discontinued, the 3,000 unsold computers later buried in a landfill in Logan, Utah.”.
A DNA Test and an IPO, “Until I was two, my mother supplemented her welfare payments by cleaning houses and waitressing, My father didn’t help, She found babysitting at a day-care center inside ballet slippers near me a church run by the minister’s wife, and for a few months we lived in a room in a house that my mother had found on a notice board meant for women considering adoption, “Then, in 1980, the district attorney of San Mateo County, California, sued my father for child-support payments, My father responded by denying paternity, swearing in a deposition that he was sterile and naming another man he said was my father..