He was predestined for literary greatness. If only his father hadn’t used up all the words.As the son of the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Richard Eberhart, Dikkon Eberhart grew up surrounded by literary giants. Dinner guests included, among others, Robert Frost, Dylan Thomas, Allen Ginsberg, W. H. Auden, and T. S. Eliot, all of whom flocked to the Eberhart house to discuss, debate, and dissect the … dissect the poetry of the day. To the world, they were literary icons. To Dikkon, they were friends who read him bedtime stories, gave him advice, and, on one particularly memorable occasion, helped him with his English homework. Anxious to escape his famous father’s shadow, Dikkon struggled for decades to forge an identity of his own, first in writing and then on the stage, before inadvertently stumbling upon the answer he’d been looking for all along–in the most unlikely of places. Brimming with unforgettable stories featuring some of the most colorful characters of the Beat Generation, The Time Mom Met Hitler, Frost Came to Dinner, and I Heard the Greatest Story Ever Toldis a winsome coming-of-age story about one man’s search for identity and what happens when he finally finds it.
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I read The Time Mom Met Hitler, Frost Came to Dinner, and I Heard the Greatest Story Ever Told: A Memoir by Dikkon Eberhart twice several months ago. I’ve been thinking about it ever since, wondering how to write a review that would do his book justice. As an author, I’m humbled to admit that I’ve settled on the fact that I cannot. I’ll admit I’ve been suffering comparisonitis, even about writing a review! Forgive me now for the weak structure of my review and for my seemingly disjointed thoughts because while I might appear to be all over the place, I assure you, Eberhart’s memoir was not.
First, Eberhart’s prose is welcoming, smooth, and poetic. The reader can’t help but sink into his words and storytelling. In fact, from this point on, I’ll refer to the author by his first name because his memoir makes him feel like a lifetime friend.
Second, Dikkon’s point of view pulled me in immediately. I laughed, worried, and contemplated with him from beginning to end. As an author and English Literature major, I was enthralled by his first-hand accounts of family friends, Robert Frost, T. S. Eliot, Robert Lowell, Dylan Thomas, and more. (If only I could travel back in time and correct a few of my professors and tell them what Robert Frost intended when he wrote The Road Less Travelled.) The stories he shares about his family, including his relationship with his poet laureate father, were so vivid, I could imagine his memoir as a documentary. I even imagined his voice narrating the book while I read along, making it a memoir I might re-read once a year. It relaxed me, and yet, it made me pause and compare his life to mine.
Something happens in Dikkon’s life that he regrets for years. It is one of those whisper-moments, a second where you know something is off or wrong, but you trust that someone else has his/her finger on the button, ready to act, because why wouldn’t he/she be on top of things? You wonder, What do I know? Who am I to question someone’s job and performance? In Dikkon’s instance, someone else didn’t have a watchful eye, and a life-changing event occurred. It’s a resonating moment, because I’ve had a moment like this, one where I sensed something was wrong, but I over-thought, hemmed and hawed, and I didn’t say anything until it was too late. This resonating moment is the reason Dikkon’s memoir sits solidly with me months later. We share a regret, or life-lesson, and found peace and forgiveness via somewhat similar routes, proving to me, once again, that there is no right or wrong way to grieve and heal.
One final seemingly disjointed comment. Dikkon shares a poignant moment with his wife, Channa, after unexpected news about their new baby. These wise words will always stick with me, and I’ve repeated them several times to friends and family members who are facing life changes and challenges:
“We know what we’ve lost. We don’t know what we’ve gained.”
Thank you, Dikkon Eberhart, for being you and for sharing your life story. It will remain with me always.