Maung Tun Thu - When will the tears of love stop?

Chapter [ 1 ]

When I decided to write this book, a thought immediately came to my mind. “Where should I start writing about myself?” There are many places I could start. I wonder if I should start writing about a brief moment when I was at the peak of my success.

At that time, I was a leading actress in Hollywood. It was the day that three of my films were opening at the same time on New York City's famous Broadway. I attended the opening ceremony myself. That day, as the leading actress in the films, I was escorted to the stage by world-famous actors Gary Cooper and Maurice Malia. At that time, I was earning $3,500 just by working part-time in the afternoon.

In fact, that time was a very longing, attachment, and cherished time for me. I think that if it started from that moment, it would be very special.

But I still have some good stories to start with. In fact, I can't even begin with a very scary story. I can. At that time, I was standing by an open window. For many years behind me, I was tormented by the terrible disease of alcoholism that I had to deal with and the way my life had been reduced to a low point. At that time, I was thinking about jumping from this window, eleven stories high, to the platform below. If I had started with that story, would it have been too dramatic? Or would it have been too tragic?

Or maybe I should start with the time when I was thirty-four years old. At that time, I had just been released from a psychiatric hospital. I was released from the hospital to start a new life in the outside world. But if I start my story with the time when I was thirty-four, there are circumstances that might be difficult for some people to understand.

Shouldn't I, as my husband, advise, be more circumspect in my description of my life? In fact, we all depend heavily on the environment that surrounds us. It is the hidden pressures and influences within that environment that shape us into the people we are and the characteristics we possess.

"If you're going to talk about yourself, there's only one way to do it," Batt said. "Tell it in order, just as it happened."

So, when I talk about myself, I'll just have to tell it like he suggested.

This is how I am...

x          x          x

I never owned my life. My life was planned out before I was even born.

My parents are very passionate about theater. So, it's no exaggeration to say that I was waiting in line to get in at the front of the theater when I was in my mother's womb. My mother loves theater. She's always in the theater. And she's a big believer in the idea that the intense desires and thoughts of a mother carrying a child in her womb can have an impact on the fetus.

My mother was a person who spent her time watching famous actors and actresses of her time, such as "Everton Ngwe, Nora Berries, and Sara Bansat," laughing when they laughed and crying when they cried. She was a person who felt happy while watching the play, thinking that the child in her womb would also share her happiness.

My mother wanted me to be a singer. Because she had a singer who she admired so much and who she almost worshipped. That singer was none other than Lillian Russell, who was very famous in our time. My mother was very fond of her. When I was born on December 13, 1910, she immediately named me Lillian Russell.

My father had a vision for my future. He wanted me to be a very successful “actress.” My father, Arthur Stein, was born in Russia, but he came to my mother’s hometown of Boston when he was four years old.

My father is a handsome man. He has a cheerful personality and doesn't take anything too seriously. He has the ability to attract the other person to be his friend. He often tells me that when he was sixteen, he participated in a play called "The Other Side's Bad Boy".

My mother often blamed my father for not trying harder to become an actor. She would often joke about my father's voice. My father's voice was not very good. But when a friend of mine who played the accordion asked me to sing, he would go along. He and his friend would go to the Boston Harbor and sing. Then the passengers on the boat would jump off the boat and throw money at them.

When my father was courting my mother, they would sometimes go out together. When would that stop? My mother would blame him for the incident of singing at the docks. My father would often tell my mother that he was “just giving me a hard time.”

My mother sighed as she told me these things. “Just as Juliet got her lover Romeo, I got my lover Arthur. But I think my mother would be more miserable than Juliet.” But if you really think about it, my mother doesn’t seem to be taking this matter too seriously. Because she wants to make more money because of this, and if she makes more money, she’ll have to go to more plays for my mother.

My father, Arthur, was twenty-four years old when he first met my mother, Katie Silvermint. At that time, he worked in his father's store during the day and went to the theater at night to see plays, and while doing so, he and my mother met by chance. They were married shortly after they met in person.

I have often wondered why my father and mother were so fond of performing. I have never been able to find a satisfactory answer. My mother is a strong woman. But she is also vulnerable. When it comes to criticism, my mother is very brave and forthright. She often calls outstanding people in the world of acting geniuses. She also says that they are people chosen by God for this job. When I was old enough to understand, my mother used to say,

"I remember when my daughter was little, my mother would take her to see plays with really amazing actors and actresses. Even talented artists have something to offer people. If they had nothing to offer, how could they go on stage and make people laugh and cry?"

And my mother has a good voice when she sings. She has a calm and pleasant voice. But her voice is very high. She can't shout much. About that, my mother used to say, "My voice is only this high, Lily. But my heart is so much. Everything that I have in my heart, I have given to my daughter."

Anyway, my father is a man of one religion. He is always satisfied with acting. Even when he sings a song, he holds his left hand on his chest where his heart is and stretches his right hand straight out in front of him. His expression is as if he is pleading with the world, which is so cruel and unsympathetic. Tears are also flowing down his cheeks.

I haven't forgotten. The room across the living room was my bedroom. I would jump up and down on the bed in that room while listening to my father's songs. In fact, it was my father who taught me to sing. He taught me songs by heart so that I could sing them. And then, because I was shy, he would ask me to sing in front of his friends who would come over on Sundays.

Anyway, when I really look at it, the stage is my life. The life of my sister Ann, who was born two and a half years after me, was also, as far as I can remember, a stage.

Anne and I are not very different in temperament. No matter how miserable or upset I am, my father never refuses to ask me to sing in front of guests. He would always say, “Lillian is very clever, and she takes great care of me. Now, stand up, my daughter. Sing a song for me.”

Anne is not like that. When asked to come, she is afraid and refuses. Sometimes her father will coax her. Sometimes he will be impatient and will force her to come with a scolding, a scolding, a scolding, a scolding, a scolding. No matter what, Anne will not accept it. She cannot be forced at all.

I was very quiet when I was little. I was often alone. Sometimes my father would feel sorry for me. “My daughter Lily is so quiet, so cold, baby. Let her know what she’s thinking,” he would say. Then my mother would pick me up and hold me in her arms. And she would say, “Oh... Arthur... she’s just a child. What can she think?”

In fact, I thought a lot and felt a lot. Looking back, my childhood was dominated by fear and loneliness.

I'm always afraid of doing something my mother doesn't like. She loves me. There's no doubt about it. But the problem is that she wants the best and the most flawless in everything. That's why I'm always afraid of doing something she doesn't like.

My mother is as quick-witted as she is quick-witted. She doesn't hesitate to give me a quick kiss or a quick slap on the cheek when I don't feel like it. My mother has only one goal in mind for my life. For her, the theater is the most important door for her daughter, Lily. If there are any obstacles on the way to that door, she doesn't hesitate to remove them.

As for my loneliness, it's hard to explain. Why am I lonely? I don't know. I always feel like I'm missing something. I can't say what it is. In my mind, I always think that every child is prettier, cuter, and more lovable than me. I don't like myself at all. Later, I found that alcohol helped me escape from people I didn't like.

x          x          x

In 1916, our family moved to New York City. Our apartment was on 43rd Street, between 9th and 10th Streets. My father, Arthur, had always dreamed of becoming a millionaire. Now