Tild sez:  Hey, wait a minute — Don’t start thinking that this is some kind of homage to local hysteric Mitch Berg and those excruciatingly tedious (so I hear, I’ve never read any of them) ‘It Was Twenty Years Ago Today’ posts he’s so fond of doing.  No.  I’m pretty sure the only similarity between this post and one of Mitch’s is in the title.

About an hour ago I remembered that today is the anniversary of my mother’s death.
Twenty years ago.   I can’t believe I’ve lived twenty years without my mother.  Without my father too, for even longer — he died 9 years before my mom did.
It took me a long time to get used to being part of the oldest living generation in my immediate family. I finally got the knack of it, but after all these years do you know what I still miss?   Feeling like a daughter.

Anyway, to mark the occasion here’s an excerpt from “Grace”, a post I wrote about my mother a couple of Mother’s Days ago…

~~~

Grace was a 5′6″, bubbly, strawberry blonde Betty Grable look-alike. She was warm and funny and talked a blue streak and drew people to her like moths to flame; like bees to honey; like whatever to whatever [insert favorite simile of your choice here].  At 5′11″ I felt like King Kong standing next to her, and maybe because of that, whenever possible I preferred to step back into the shadows and let my mother shine. I don’t remember ever begrudging her the spotlight.  It’s possible I did at the time, but I don’t remember it now.

Mom had been a widow for 5 years when this photo was taken in 1984. She was 61 years old. My dad, Gunnar, died in 1979 at the age of 54. He died of congestive heart failure complicated by scar tissue on his aorta and an enlarged ‘athlete’s heart’, both consequences of having rheumatic fever when he was a child.

After my dad’s death Grace continued with the busy social schedule she and Dad maintained through all 33 years of their marriage.   I was envious; I  joked with her about having a social life that  people 40 years younger would kill for.
She did volunteer work at the Shriners’ Hospital; went out to dinner with her Eastern Star chapter, and her garden club, and her 500 club, and “the St. Mary’s gang”,  which was comprised of all the gals she’d roomed with at a boarding house downtown near the Basilica during WWII, when they were all flighty young singles working at Honeywell, assembling steering controls for bombers by day, and dancing the night away every night. She always said that in those days she wore out a pair of shoes a week from all the dancing.

This is Grace on Christmas Eve 1987. She looks tired, as well she might, considering she’d had a mastectomy three months before, and was undergoing a 6-month course of chemotherapy at this time. Her doctors were fairly confident they’d gotten all the cancer, so they said the chemo was really just a precaution, to make sure the cancer hadn’t metastasized into the lymph nodes. Grace was tolerating the chemo well, altho the steroids made her face look kind of puffy and she also said the steroids gave her manic bursts of energy when she couldn’t sit still or stop talking. Everybody who knew her wondered how she could tell the difference.

This turned out to be the last photo ever taken of my mother.

Less than two months later, on the morning of February 12, 1988, Grace called my sister and brother in law at 4:45 AM. She’d been out dancing until past 1 AM, then had come home and settled into bed but suddenly felt “kind of funny”. It was strange, she said; like she couldn’t catch her breath. My brother in law told her to hang up and call 911 right away. Grace lived only a few blocks away from Fairview Southdale Hospital in Edina, and the paramedics could reach her within minutes if necessary. She agreed to call 911, and hung up. My sister and her husband waited for a minute or two, then called 911 to confirm that Grace had called. Yes, the dispatcher said, and the paramedics were already on their way.

BIL then jumped in the car and headed for Grace’s house, about 15 miles away. When he got there he saw a policeman standing at the front door, which was all splintered and off its hinges. The paramedics had arrived within 3 minutes of receiving Grace’s call, yet she was already unable to get to the door, so the paramedics had to use a crowbar to break the door down. The policeman said that Grace had had a heart attack; she was alive but it was “very serious”. The EMTs had taken her to nearby Fairview Southdale, all the while frantically working to revive her.

My sister called at about 5:30 AM and told us what was happening. We then picked her up and drove to the hospital together. I was seven months pregnant with my first child at the time.
We arrived at the hospital within 20 minutes of getting the call. My BIL George met us at the entrance and said: “I don’t know how to say this, but Grace has passed away.”

The cause of death was found to be pulmonary embolism: a large blood clot had formed somewhere in her lower extremities and had travelled upwards through her system to ultimately become lodged in a spot near the juncture of her heart and lungs. Death came very quickly; within minutes.
Grace was 64 years old.

It’s been a long time now; 17 years; so the pain of loss has had time to get dull and familiar and I don’t feel it as sharply as I did then.  Still, not a day goes by that I don’t miss her and wish she could see my kids as they’re growing up. Well, maybe somehow she is seeing the kids.  Somehow.  I hope so. I guess what I want is to be able to *see her seeing* the kids.

After years of bitterness and anger (at what?  God?  Fate?)  that my mother was taken away from me so soon, and especially that my children never got a chance to know her,  I’ve begun to also be able to see the flip side of the coin; to appreciate that how she died was,  in its way,  rather a good way to go.  
Think about it:  Grace lived her life fully and actively and joyously right up to the very last moment.  No drawn out withering away for her.  And for me,  no pain of watching my mother slowly become unrecognizable as disease consumed her.

She went to a party on that last night. She went out dancing til past 1 in the morning. She went dancing.

Posted: February 12th, 2008 under Chez Tild, Loco Parent, Personal History.
Comments: 2

Dear Markos: We know that this has been an eventful time for you. After all, it’s not every day that a man becomes a father. This week you and your wife and son have experienced the joy of welcoming a beautiful baby girl into the world and into the loving embrace of your family. Congratulations, and know that our best wishes are with you all.

Still, I want to remind you that the stress and excitement of these happy days can quickly take a toll on even the hardiest individuals. Hazy judgement and temporary departures from logic happen frequently to parents suffering from sleep deprivation in the first weeks after a baby is born.

We understand, Markos. We know that there are good reasons why you might blurt out a stupid thing or two during these hectic days. You’re tired and not thinking clearly.

Oh, sure, some people have gotten a little riled up over the comments you made the other day. The word “misogyny” was floated around today and that led to a big squabble over whether you had actually been called a misogynist or not, and if you had, was or wasn’t that an even bigger issue and an even stupider comment than the one you made.
Some people defended your endearing, eternal cluelessness vis a vis gender issues, while others complained about your all too blatant dismissiveness towards women. Many wondered just what the hell a proposed blogger code of ethics has to do with death threats against women bloggers and increasingly pervasive online misogyny? Or wondered what you would do if it were your daughter or your wife who was the target of online intimidation and death threats? It was a loud, sometimes bitter discussion and it lasted all day.

Well, Markos, my advice to you is to take every inch of slack that’s being cut for you right now. Take all of it, and then take even more. You’re a parent of a newborn. You ‘ve got all the responsibilities you can handle right now and you need all the rest you can get so that you have the strength to become the well-informed and reasonable father your children deserve.
Go get some sleep!

Posted: April 12th, 2007 under Children, General, Loco Parent.
Comments: 5

Do boys need fathers? This woman says no

Via Natalie Bennett at Philobiblon, an overview of a new book about single mothers :

Raising Boys Without Men: How Maverick Moms are Creating the Next Generation of Exceptional Men

by Peggy Drexler

(Rodale Books)

And yes, since I hear the mob of angry, torch- and pitchfork- toting Dobsonites approaching, I’ll admit that the title is deliberately provocative. Got some attention, tho, didn’t it? Sold some books too, didn’t it? Probably a hell of a lot more than if it had been titled Cheer Up, Single Moms! You’re Not as Bad As Everyone Says You Are!

Over the past two years it’s divorced fathers who have monopolised the headlines, shifting attention away from the female carer to the plight of the man who is not allowed to see his children. It often seems that there is little that the single mother can do right. She is criticised for being overprotective if she worries about her children, negligent if she doesn’t worry; mollycoddling if she engages in her children’s lives, selfish if she doesn’t; ambitious if she pursues a career, a failure if she stays at home. (Single dads, by contrast, generally receive a positive press.)

Meanwhile the raising of sons has become one of the most contentious social issues of our times. Whole shelves in the parenting section of bookshops are dedicated to the subject of the next generation of boys (in comparison to relatively few titles about bringing up girls). The prevailing wisdom is that a boy must be raised with a man in the house; otherwise he is likely to fail his exams, drop out of school, career off the rails.

Now Peggy Drexler, an assistant professor of psychology at Cornell University and a former gender scholar at Stanford University, has published Raising Boys Without Men: How Maverick Moms are Creating the Next Generation of Exceptional Men (Rodale Books). In a unique study she followed more than 60 fatherless families over 10 years. As time went by she practically became another member of the family in these households. She picked up boys from school, dropped them off at sports clubs, spent weekends and holidays talking in depth to both them and their mothers. All the while taking notes and taping conversations. What she discovered stunned her and has divided public opinion. It goes to the heart of the very idea of the apple-pie American family: is it necessary for a son to have a dad?

Yeah, yeah, I hear ‘em too: the outraged howls of Focus on the Family, Promise Keepers, Doctor Phil and every fathers’ rights group on the planet. Besides the torches and pitchforks, now they’re getting ready to burn Peggy Drexler in effigy. Were any of you at all surprised?

[Emphases mine]

We have a vocal group who want to keep things the same and to deify the ideal family. But coming from a traditional family is not in and of itself going to make a boy into a moral, law-abiding, decent person or a good husband or a good father.’ In short, parenting is either good or deficient, not male or female.

It wasn’t long after the final sentence was published - provocatively the final two words are ‘family values’ - that the backlash began. The anger roused has become part of the story of the book. Commentators have suggested that she’s giving husbands a licence to abandon their families. Others have condemned her as anti-men. She’s been told that she’s ‘an abomination’, ‘a misguided liberal zealot’, ‘a fucking dunce’, a ‘femi-nazi’; instructed to ‘Do us Americans a favour and move your dyke ass to Europe’. At one point she received so much hate mail she consulted a security company about protection.

Yet she was recently invited to talk to the widows from September 11. For every negative email there is a positive one. Each morning she receives messages of support from lesbian mothers and single mothers. ‘You articulate what I have been trying to say for many years,’ they tell her. Even the mother of Lance Armstrong, the world-record breaking cyclist, has been in touch. ‘When people ask me who was his role model it drives me mad. I was his role model!’ Armstrong’s mother said.

In the end, the message that I hope will get through from this book is not whether boys –and girls– need fathers or not.

What all children need is a good parent. Two or more good parents if possible, but at least one.  A lot of children only get one, but happily,  one good parent –female or male– often  has more than enough of what it takes to raise an excellent human being.

 

Posted: July 9th, 2006 under Feminism, Loco Parent.
Comments: 1

Stayed up til past 2 am…

With nowhere to go Saturday; nobody to see, nothing to do, at 11 Friday night the boys and I drank caffeinated tea, ate Costco blueberry-strawberry tart, watched half of The Right Stuff, and looked up facts about the Mercury astronauts and Chuck Yeager. Then the kids played Battlefield 1942 or Halflife 2, or whatever game of the moment and I ended up watching some of Encino Man, which I’d never seen nor ever wanted to see, but which nevertheless made me laugh at nearly 2 in the morning. Hmm. Do I say, out loud, that I think Brendan Fraser’s body is adorable? If I do, will my teenage sons freak out and be psychologically scarred for all eternity? I didn’t say it, just in case.

Then I realized I couldn’t fall asleep without some major kickass pharmaceuticals. Major kickass for me, that is.
One of the joys of living only a couple blocks from a 24-hour Walgreen’s is going there at 2 in the morning. To buy Benadryl because every part of my head is itching and sneezing and running and feels scratchy and I need something to knock myself out for 10 or 11 hours.

It’s fabulous at Walgreen’s at 2AM. Just me and two stockclerks and a sleepy cashier and I can try out all the As Seen On TV gizmos. Hmm. Do I need a Shedd-ender for my 13+ yr old dog? How about one for my 16 yr old son?

So I score some pink storebrand Benadryl minitabs and head home. I fall into bed at 2:45AM, and sleep the sleep of the dead until…7AM.

Not enough sleep. But, the Venerable Pup needs to get outside every 5-6 hours or else he begins to lose control of his bowels and starts delivering humongous log turds in various areas of the house. At least they’re not messy; the turds are firm and packed; and huge, like Tootsie rolls on steroids. Our vet has said, admiringly, that these are the stools of a remarkably vital and healthy old dog who, because he’s the equivalent of a 95 year old human, has begun to lose some of the nerve functions that regulate his hind end, so giant healthy dog turds on the living room floor are sometimes going to be the result. We are all happy that the VP is so healthy for being so old, but, none of us wants to step in dog turds no matter how robust and healthy they are, so I get up at 7 AM on Saturday mornings.

I loaded the dishwasher, made a fresh pot of coffee, remembered I still had one leek in the fridge and I needed to use it before it went bad, so I made a mushroom and leek frittata. Recipe is from a Moosewood restaurant cookbook; really, really, really, REALLY good. It makes a really spectacular brunch dish when you have company. I’ll post the recipe a little later.

Then at 10:30 this morning I re-dosed myself with more Benadryl and went back to bed.

Got up 4 hours later, and I’m reading blogs. The guys watched the rest of The Right Stuff. We all agreed that:

• Ed Harris rules

• Chuck Yeager could have been elected President of the United States in 1984

• Actor or Astronaut? : Sam Shepard, Alan Shepard, John Glenn, Scott Carpenter, Scott Glenn … You need a detailed org chart to keep everybody straight in this movie.

By the end of the weekend ETU needs to show me at least 3 completed pages of his AP English position paper about Hamlet which is due next week.

Yes, having spring allergies is a little like having bees live in your head. But, there they are.

More sleep; back later.

Posted: April 22nd, 2006 under Chez Tild, Loco Parent.
Comments: none

It seems I have the next couple of months pretty well mapped out for me, thanks to the up and down fortunes of Elder Teenaged Unit [henceforth "ETU"] as he continues his winding way on the path to graduation from high school.

I’ve just spent my lunch hour trading emails with his two AP English teachers. The class is what they call ‘team-taught’, so the students spend equal time with teacher Wally and teacher Ole [no, I am not making these names up] . Here’s the email I just sent off to Wally and Ole:

Thank you both for the detailed response. It’s
exactly what I was hoping for.

Monday [ETU] and I went through the list of this week’s
assigned work from the calendar on your class site.

As I understand it, [ETU] is currently supposed to be
completing the assignments for the “Oles” , is that
correct?

I saw that he had already completed the pink quiz
sheet for this week. Monday evening he did the Hamlet
reading and completed all of the purple quiz sheet.
We also printed out the packet about the position
paper, and I asked [ETU] to begin planning the position
paper.

I converted the list of class assignments that’s on
the portal into a pdf and printed it out. [ETU] and I
are going through the list hi-liting the work up to
this point that he has rec’d zero points for.
We have been wondering how many of the past
assignments he can still get some credit for if he
turns them in.

Now with the information in your email, I know the
relative weights of the papers, journals, and daily
work in figuring the class grade.

At this time, April 19th, I’m thinking the best plan
for [ETU] would be to concentrate on the remaining
papers, complete all of the journals, and do all his
daily work going forward from now through the end of
the year.

Do you think that’s the best approach? Please advise
if he should be doing anything else, or anything
differently.

As of now, [ETU] has dropped AP Physics so he can
concentrate on his remaining classes. He needs 3
credits to fulfill all his requirements for
graduation, so AP English and Government are absolute
MUSTs for him.

Going forward, I’ll be monitoring his progress as
carefully as I can.

I know this is not going to be easy for [ETU], not from
a lack of ability on his part, but more from a lack of
good study habits.

As you both can see, he’s a very bright kid, but like
some bright kids, all through his school years he’s
been able to ‘wing it’ successfully through many tests
and assignments and even entire classes without doing
a lot of the studying.
Having been there, I know that ability to BS your way
through stuff can’t last forever. It comes back to
bite you eventually.
I think this might be that bite-back moment for [ETU].

I won’t do the work for him, but I’ll do everything I
can to see that he turns things around in your class
with the hope that he can come out with a passing
grade.

And again, thank you for your response. I appreciate
it more than I can say.

So that’s my life for the duration. Work, manage the kid, and sleep [maybe]. One of the few times since labor and delivery that I’ve ever had to really step up and work hard as a parent, so I’ll give it everything I’ve got. Comes with the territory.

Posted: April 19th, 2006 under Loco Parent.
Comments: 1