Happy Holidays to One and All

You may have to zoom in on the "picture" below to read the words. 

9-11: A Different Kind of Throwback Thursday

One of my formers, on this 13^th anniversary of 9-11, posted on Facebook, asking what we were doing that awful day. I was in my second year of my counseling gig at the high school. Obviously, not a topic covered in Counselor School. The news came in that a plane had crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. To be honest, the thought of terrorism occurred only fleetingly to me (I tend to the naive when it comes to bad things), but I did wonder how such a terrible mistake could have happened. After calling Carolyn to tell her to turn on the TV, I gravitated to a television in Chris Ventimiglia's classroom, just in time to see the second plane hit the other tower, and then I knew that the inconceivable had happened, which was quickly confirmed by subsequent events.

For reasons I still don’t get, the district and/or middle school administration tried, more or less successfully I guess, to quarantine information from their building. Delaying information does not change the information itself and I, at least, was confident that the staff was more than competent to help kids make sense of it all. Postponing the bad news for 5 hours changed nothing and deprived students and staff of a chance to work together to share grief and knowledge.

But I had my own kids to worry about, so other than a shrug and shake, I moved on, from classroom to classroom. I don’t recall any kids being overtly traumatized, although my daughter was. (Then living in Ohio, she spent most the morning on the phone with Carolyn and didn’t fly for several years.) I do remember telling kids, “Your life has just changed forever, and in ways you can’t imagine. You may not see it right away, but your life now will be very different than it would have been yesterday.”

    As I watched President Bush address the nation, I remember thinking, “Maybe the right guy did get elected.” His speech made me calm, confident and comfortable; despite my misgivings about him politically, he seemed, well, presidential. Of course, I didn’t know he would move beyond a hunt for Osama Bin Laden in Afghanistan to a conquest of Iraq, a country which, as an enemy of Bin Laden, clearly had had nothing to do with the horror of 9-11. Despite my words of warning to our students, I could not envision how widespread the chaotic fall of dominoes would become. But on that day, all of that was as inconceivable as terrorists flying airliners into the WTC.

Short Thoughts on Mother's Day

A Somewhat Contrarian View

All the homages to mothers on Mother’s Day on Facebook beg the question (just for me, personally; I doubt it’s an area of concern for anyone else) of why I don’t participate in the nostalgia. 

My mother died almost six and a half years ago. That I don’t post pictures or pen paeans to her memory might lead one to believe she was a terrible mother and I had a nasty childhood. I can assure you that isn’t true. She did the best she could, worked hard at motherhood, given who she was and how she grew up. That, I firmly believe, is the most we can ask of any parent, and, in fact, she did a better job of motherhood than some of the recipients of the lavish praise on this day.

The fact of the matter was, we didn’t really like each other, something we had discussed and acknowledged. That has nothing to do with love, of course. It’s a bonus when those two feelings coincide, just not a bonus we enjoyed.

So I’m not really sentimental about her. I don’t really miss her. I do regret that she died just as she was starting to figure out the meaning, and value, of unconditional love. Carolyn, Nicci (both of whom, more easily than I, accepted her for who she was and thus offered me a model) and, by virtue of her mere existence, Becca deserve the credit there. 

Her defenses dropped. She even gave herself a warm nickname (GG, for Great Grandma). As she held Becca -- and actually asked to babysit -- I saw spontaneous warmth and love, something I wish she had learned earlier, but at least those feelings were honest and present at the end. To expect more than that is probably not realistic.

To My Daughter on Her 40th Birthday

Dear Nicci,

I can’t believe that it was a (chronologically impossible) 40 years ago that you, finally, made your way into this world and changed my life for better and forever. You have made me a better teacher, a better husband, and a better person.

I had absolutely no clue that February morning, after panting through the night with your mother (the toughest woman I know) at the old St. Luke’s Hospital on Delmar, what was coming my way, but every day I loved you more, from Day 1 through, now, Day 14,610. You made that easy, of course, by being, well, you, a incredible woman of intelligence, integrity, and inspiration. Ironically, given that last sentence, you’ve never been about the “I” but about those around you, generous and giving. You define empathy. We still remember, when you were barely two, having to “rescue” the doll you gave to a crying child, a stranger, in the airport.

I posted a piece of whimsy last week about parenting being hard. Not that we didn’t consciously work at being the best possible parents we could, but you made it less challenging. You were a great kid, and it has been, and continues to be, a pleasure to watch you grow into a great adult, and now to observe as you work, and succeed, at being a great mom to Becca, your own piece of you, that gift you and Ben have given Mom and me, and the world.

Before I get deported to Wisconsin, the cheese capital of the country, I love having you as my daughter – and my friend. That is another gift you give us, not only on your birthday but every day. While we did not try to be your friend as you were growing up, it was our goal to raise you so that we could be friends after you reached adulthood. We are so glad that worked. Happy birthday. I love you.