I was talking with a couple in their early 70s who have three adult children. One of them is extremely difficult and now finds herself amidst a divorce with no real skills, no money, and no job. This is despite the fact that she was raised with supportive parents and a great deal of privilege. Her parents (my friends) are now supporting her financially…as parents tend to do (if they are able).
My warning to them was this. Think of your relationship with your other children. It’s alienating to watch your parents continue to bail out an irresponsible person. (It’s even worse to get dragged into a sibling’s problems against your will.) Parents of adult fuck-ups need to consider what they may have done to create this needy person and stop doing it. Granted there are very real problems for which adults need assistance (i.e. addiction, illness), but at some point you just have to be fair.
If one of your children used your hard-earned money to go to college (and graduate on time), got a job, raised a family, pays her bills, pays her taxes, invites you to her home for countless holiday meals, etc. And the other one is constantly in crisis mode, with no responsibilities other than herself. Beware of your actions. The responsible ones are watching.
Duck fat biscuits with lemon mint butter and cranberry jam at Greenleaf—a delicious Black-owned restaurant in Milford, NH.
I think a lot of people in the Northeast (including me!) checked off “See the Northern Lights” from their buckets lists last night. This was especially rewarding for those of us who missed seeing them in May. Who knew our once-in-a-lifetime chance would come twice in one year?
The Northern Lights from my very own neighborhood last night around 7:15pm. I was on my way to choir practice and happened to look up.
This feels like a lot of things.
Remembrance
The lights and colors in the sky last night reminded me of my close friend from college, Carla, who died in 2022. She had brain cancer. She really wanted to see the Northern Lights before she died, but was too sick to travel, so her friends and family found a way to project them onto the ceiling in her bedroom in Santa Fe. It was beautiful.
A Sign
I know I’m not alone in feeling a lot of anxiety about the state of the country and the way it feels like we’re never going to go back to “normal” — no matter who wins the election. I’ve never in my life been afraid of a US election, but I’m afraid of this one.
Similarly, I never once saw the Northern Lights as a kid growing up in Massachusetts, but this year, many New Englanders saw them twice! A little girl standing near me last night said, “this is God.” Maybe so. Or maybe it’s a sign of transition to a new era—an era where completely new things happen.
Unknown new things are scary and I have a strong urge to “circle the wagons” and try to protect the ones I love. (I think to myself, “please stay in Massachusetts where you’ll maybe be a bit safer from gun violence, flooding, dangerous reproductive care, crappy public schools, etc.)
But I know that’s not really possible.
My new granddaughter will hopefully live into the next century. She will live out most of her life in this new era, whatever it may be. I want her to feel free, adventurous, and safe to explore the world beyond her home state.
Living in the transitional time
An activist friend of mine left for New Zealand yesterday. She’s staying until the end of the month. She said she just needed to get out of the country for these last few weeks before the election. I can relate. In some ways, it’s all just too much.
Maybe seeing the aurora borealis is the reminder some of us needed to center ourselves and live in the moment. Humans have been around a long time and have accomplished many great things and many terrible things. Even though it sometimes feels like end times are upon us, there’s a decent chance that something great is just around the corner too.
It’s now been a whole year since the Hamas-led terrorist attacks on Israel in which 1,200 men, women and thirty-six children were horrifically killed and 250 abducted. Since then, over 40,000 Palestinian civilians have been killed and countless thousands have been injured and displaced, including mothers, children and infants.
Mothers, children, and infants, like my precious granddaughter…
My minister shared this poem on Sunday and it really struck a chord with our Unitarian Universalist congregation.
“If God Would Go On a Sick Leave: A Poem of Peace”
by Rabbi Zoë Klein
Nowhere is there more prayer. The Nuns at the Holy Sepulchre. The faithful at Al Aqsa Mosque. The worshippers at the Wall. The call to prayer at dawn and dusk Warbling from the citadels. The church bells, The Persian trills, The passion spilled over texts From every major/minor religious sect. Nowhere is there more prayer than Jerusalem, Thanks be to God, Hamdilala, Baruch Hashem. And yet, I’m starting to think that it’s You and not them, God, what’s the point of prayer? If there’s nowhere where There’s more prayer, And terror reigns Then, Who’s to blame? If suddenly, without a whisper goodbye, Jesus, Allah, Adonai, The three men they admire most All took the last train for the coast, And the Moslems got up from their knees And the Christians put down their rosaries And the Jews stayed their hands from kissing Their mezuzahs, And everyone looked up, And realized something’s missing… God is missing. Stop the praying! No One’s there, They’d arrange a party to search everywhere. They’d look for God But there’d be no Presence In Holy Books or stars and crescents Or steeples and crosses. People’d be at a loss, Is He ever coming back? They’d be so distraught, Their searching for naught, There’d be nothing on high So they’d turn to on low, There’d be nothing above So they’d turn to below, And they’d finally see there, In the face of the other, A semblance of sister, The eyes of a brother, They’d turn and they’d lean Upon one another. You see, every group can’t believe that they’re the ones chosen, Every group can’t believe that the Holy Land’s owed them, Sometimes faith in You, God, Builds insurmountable walls, And everyone falls. Everyone falls. How wise are the secularists for whom the dead aren’t martyred But, quite plainly, murdered… This might sound like an absurd, ungodly thing to say, A truly heretical supplication to pray, (I say this only out of the deepest respect) But if for a few days, God, You’d just give it a rest, If You’d take a sick leave and just go away And let Israel work this out without You in the way, God, for that kind of peace, You’re a small price to pay.
There’s no feeling like holding your first grandchild for the first time. It’s an experience of pure love. It’s a bit different than the new parent feeling of baby love, which is such a huge life-altering event. (Your life is ever after divided into two parts—before and after.)
Becoming a grandparent is just a…gift. A gift from the universe. I’m crying as I write this. I don’t love the word “blessed” because of its association with traditional Christianity, but…I mean…heck… it sure does apply here.
I’ve been searching for quotes about becoming a grandparent that resonate. I kind of like this one:
“Grandchildren are the reward for those who have labored as parents.”
But I don’t love the word “reward” in it. Children are not rewards.
Becoming a grandparent is just awesome. That’s all I can say. I know I’m very lucky too. For whatever reasons, the birthrate is way down in the US. A significant number of millennials are choosing not to have children. I’m just so fortunate that my wonderful daughter and her partner have chosen to take the parenthood plunge.
And some practical advice for new grandmothers (based on my one week of experience):
Don’t be annoying.
Be helpful.
Let the parents figure out how to feed and care for their brand new baby. Do your best to take care of the parents—with meals, cleaning, recycling boxes, and whatever else they obviously need. Some ideas have changed since we had kids, especially around bottle vs breast “nipple confusion.” Don’t assert yourself too hard with your old ideas. And don’t say any of those annoying things that all mothers have up their sleeve! Tell the parents how awesome they’re doing at life’s hardest job.
One thing you will always be 100% in agreement on is that their baby (“our” baby 😉) is the cutest baby.
I’ve mentioned before how much I enjoyed the Leanne Morgan comedy special “I’m Every Woman” on Netflix. This bit about becoming a grandma is one of my favorite parts 😂🤣😂
To my readers: my granddaughter has arrived safe and sound – thank the universe! She is perfect in every way and so is her name, which I love, but won’t be sharing publicly at this time.
As a mother, I can tell you it’s pretty darn stressful to have your own precious daughter go through labor and delivery. I wrote this haiku during the first night of her labor, which went on for two whole nights. I barely slept a wink!
Back in the 70s, charm bracelets were a common gift for girls. Typically girls got the bracelet with one or two “charms” as a first gift and then additional charms for birthdays and Christmases ever after.
Charms were little silver representations of some hobby or activity that the girl liked to do.
I loved my charm bracelet. I have kept it in a box in my closet for decades now. It lives with a bunch of other sentimental jewelry that I no longer wear, but cannot part with.
I recently bought some of those tiny silver polishing cloths to shine up some old jewelry and decided to clean my charm bracelet.
As we very eagerly await the birth of my granddaughter sometime within the next two weeks, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to show it to her and tell her about the meaning of all the charms.
There are 17 charms on my bracelet. Most represent things that were important to me as a child and teenager.
A Camp Fire Girls 5-years charm (I had forgotten how important the CFG were to me)
A set of silver bells (not sure why I had those, but I’m assuming they were Christmas-related)
A Camp Fire Girls 6-years charm
The B-1 Bomber (Unusual, yes, but my Dad was an engineer and a pilot and his company made some navigational components for the B-1. He was always going to California on business and he must have brought this charm back from one of his trips.)
A tall ship, probably the USS Constitution. The bicentennial in 1976 was a very big deal in Massachusetts. The tall ships visit to Boston was a part of it.
A baton (I loved twirling and being a majorette in high school)
A tennis racket and ball (I had forgotten, but I was quite serious about tennis for several years. I made it to the club finals in singles one summer. I played on the high school team for a year or two.)
A starfish – I loved the beach. (I ill-advisedly took a starfish home with me one time and that thing reeked like hell for months. It was probably still alive and I didn’t realize it. Poor starfish.)
Mickey Mouse – I was one of those very lucky kids in the 70s whose parents took them to Disneyland.
The Eiffel Tower (I hadn’t been to Paris back then, but I must’ve liked the idea. I sure did love it later on in life.)
A saguaro 🌵 cactus that says Tucson. I had an aunt and six cousins that lived out West. My grandmother would periodically move out there to help them.
The last one is a bit of a mystery. Maybe it’s supposed to be a bicycle. I loved riding my bike. But it looks a bit more like a moped. I remember seeing mopeds a lot on our visits to Nantucket and Block Island, but people were constantly getting seriously injured on them. I don’t think my parents ever let us ride them, so let’s just go with bicycle for that one.
I’m thankful that I got to have lobster (“lob-stah” – if you’re from around here) last night. I typically have one lobster dinner per summer, so I’m glad I got this one in before Labor Day—the unofficial end of summer.
Growing up in New England, I’ve eaten many, many lobsters. And yes, as a kid, I was extremely concerned about the seemingly cruel manner of death – by boiling. But once I had that delicious claw meat dipped in hot, melted butter, I got over it.
For those who have never had a lobster, the best ones are from the cold New England waters, especially Maine. (I made the mistake of ordering a lobster in Hawaii once. It was a totally different experience.) In my opinion, boiled lobster is best accompanied by a baked potato and either fresh corn or good coleslaw.
And if you’re a GenXer like me, you must recall a certain song, whenever lobster is served. (You know the one.)
Growing up in Massachusetts, I should have visited New York City before age 18, but I did not. For some reason, my parents never took us there, even though my mother’s parents were true Brooklynites—Dodgers fans before “dem bums” moved to LA. I remember my grandmother always pronounced certain words the Brooklyn way—“earl” for oil and “erster” for oyster. (My grandparents moved to Worcester, Massachusetts early in their marriage and never returned to Brooklyn.)
I first went to NYC on a bus from my college in Hartford in the mid eighties. We went for the day. I’ll never forget seeing those vertigo-inducing Manhattan skyscrapers for the first time. New York is so much bigger and taller than all the other American cities. Chicago, Miami, Philly, DC, LA, San Francisco, and of course Boston, are all special in their own ways, but New York is the greatest of them all. (And I say this as someone who grew up despising the New York Yankees.)
On that very first trip to NYC, I remember a shopkeeper asked me where I was from and I said “How do you know I’m not from New York?” He answered, “Because you’re not wearing black and you smiled and said thank you.” He guessed I was from Connecticut. Also, on that same trip, my friend Ann told me to quit gawking and saying things like “I can’t believe I’m in NEW YORK.”
I was determined to expose my kids to NYC before they were 18, so they wouldn’t seem so naive and Connecticutty when they visited.
A photo I took of my sister in NYC in 1987. (She was living there at the time and did not give Connecticut vibes like I did.)
My friend Andreada in Washington Square Park in 1988. That was a wild trip. NYC in the late 80s was a bit scary. I had to sit near a nasty perv on the bus down and got robbed of my leather coat while I was out at a bar. AIDS and drug addiction were casting a pall.My daughter in the Empire State Building, 2005
My son’s first trip to NYC, 2011
A mini-reunion with high school friends in Manhattan in 2011.
In 2018, I just HAD to see Hamilton on Broadway, so my friend Dina and I planned to go down for the day in late March. I thought we’d be safe from winter storms, so I bought tickets to a matinee. But then a freak spring snowstorm was forecast so we went down on the train the night before, so as to not miss the show. Well, the snowstorm was so bad that they cancelled our Amtrak home and we had to stay over a second night. It was quite a snowy adventure! We ended up running into a friend who took us to see a second Broadway show (Carousel starring Renée Fleming) for free. (She had extra tickets because her friends wouldn’t brave the snow.) We ate at the famous Sardi’s restaurant after the show.
The Hamilton marquis on Broadway, 2018My friend Dina outside the Bryant Park Grill in March 2018. Amtrak shut down for two days due to this little bit of snow! We took the bus home instead.
I went back to NYC for a conference the following month. There was no sign of snow then. I think that was my last trip to the City. I’m not sure when I’ll go back again, but I will.
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