When she was nearing seventy, my mother announced in her inimitable way that the most economical family vacation was to charter a sailboat and cruise in beautiful places. In 1993 we went on the first of those trips, two weeks up the coast of Maine to the Bay of Fundy and back. Since Mom paid—and believed that the only reason anyone came along was because of her money—she felt she had the right to exert detailed control over everyone, including when you got up and went to sleep, what food you ate and alcohol you drank, where you went, what you talked about, what songs were sung, and who sat where on the boat. Although Mary Ann loved adventure and had high hopes for the trip, the close quarters overcame the tenuous civility between her and my mother. One afternoon, they had a vicious fight over how to cook clams. The clams were not the problem. Two bosses were fighting over who was in control, it was nasty and personal, and Mary Ann decided she would never again be trapped on a boat with my mother. On later trips, Eve and I went, or Eve went on her own and I stayed home with Mary Ann.
—Rock In A Landslide