The Parenting Games

Earlier this month, the Wall Street Journal ran an article titled, “Mother Madness” authored by Erica Jong. The headline immediately grabbed my attention, but the byline equally got me as well.  It intrigued me to read something new by the famed “Fear of Flying” author. She has been a prolific novelist since her first famous book in 1973, but I have not thought about her or her writing since I read that inaugural novel.  http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704462704575590603553674296.html?KEYWORDS=mother+madness
 

The WSJ article dives right into Jong’s observations about Attachment Parenting, and she quickly declares that today’s parents, “run themselves ragged trying to mold exceptional children.  It’s assumed that we can perfect our babies by the way we nurture them.”   This parenting style, advocated by William and Martha Sears, co-authors of “The Baby Book” (2003), promotes that parents should, as Jong notes, “wear your baby, sleep with her and attune yourself totally to her needs.”  Jong’s concern is that militant adherence to this total commitment is a form of bondage that hails from another time. She rails against the extreme.  “Giving up your life for your child creates expectations that are likely to be thwarted as the child, inevitably, attempts to detach.”  Lastly, Jong notes that “our obsession with parenting is an avoidance strategy.  It allows us to substitute our own small world for the world as a whole.”  She concludes that the larger world is the one we are sending our children into, so we should parent toward preparing them for what is real, not insulate them in the name of total nurturing.

Offering parenting advice can be such a high stakes game of right and wrong.  I can hardly think of one statement that can be universally agreed upon when it comes to parenting.  I heard Bette Midler say once, in an interview, that, “Parenting is not for sissies.”  This continues to be my favorite tip and I often invoke her line.  I did, however, appreciate Jong’s concern over parents, especially women who continue to be primary caregivers, being weighed down by, “accepting the ‘noble savage’ view of parenting with its ideals of attachment and naturalness.” Her concern of accessorizing our lives with our children rings out.

Breast feeding? Making your own baby food? Using cloth diapers?  All are choices.  Bottle feeding? Buying baby food? Disposable diapers?  More choices. Decreeing one over the other in the name of ‘good’ parenting is a slippery slope.  Yes, there is environmental correctness to some of these choices, but speaking strictly about what it is that we take on to be good parents, there should be few rules.  Loving, feeding, and clothing our children are all good starts.  But what do we really mean when we say we love our child?  Your explanation will probably differ in some ways from mine.  Multiply that by the number of parents on the earth and I’d say we are off to a rousing start of the parenting games.

I think when we support each other in our roles as parents is when we have the best shot at doing a decent job.  It does take a village.  A parent needs to know someone has their back when navigating the world with kids in tow.  I am grateful to my friends, family, neighbors and caregivers who have helped me, especially when my kids were little.  We all didn’t parent in the same way, but we felt somewhat united by this job and tried to lighten the load for one another.  I am afraid for the parent who feels isolated.  And I think sometimes that parenting books, in their earnestness to provide ‘the best advice,’ can make a parent feel insecure for not following it.  I think Jong wants to warn parents about the pitfalls of keeping too singular a focus on the job.  Life is bumpy and messy so let’s be sure our kids experience it enough to successfully function in it.

As for attachment parenting, I find myself on the 'back nine' of that route.  Learning to let go has been more of a focus. There is a fierceness to being a parent in how we try to protect our young.  Does it ever subside?  I believe it has to be re-directed.  When I really think about it, I have been at the beginning of my re-direction.  Having a child living away at college has forced me to do this. I think it all began as we started touring colleges during junior year of high school.  You begin imagining your child on a certain campus and see a glimmer of them in the faces of those university students.  Once your child is in college your emotions are with them, but let's face it, they are the sole director of their time and efforts.  Hmmmm....perhaps I could write a book about 'detachment parenting.'  Well, a few chapters anyway.

An interesting addendum to Jong’s article is one written by Molly Jong-Fast, her daughter and only child.  The title makes me smile, “Growing Up with Ma Jong.” 

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703805704575594213125914630.html?KEYWORDS=mother+madness

   

She writes frankly about her famous mother’s parenting noting, “To my mother and grandmother, children were the death of a dream; they were the death of one’s ambition.” Molly Jong-Fast stands in the sweet spot of understanding what challenged her mom, why she made the choices she did, and accepts all of it.  “Yes she was hippy-dippy and career –obsessed, but she worked hard to give me choices.” Not a bad review from an adult child.

Thank You Mrs. Hale

Don't mess with the meal.

The ingredients to the feast are well established. Tamper with these staples and there will be mutiny.   A few years ago I suggested that I was going to make pumpkin profiteroles instead of pumpkin pie, just to break out of the sameness of the Thanksgiving dessert, and I received a hefty backlash ending in a resounding 'No!" 

The pie prevailed.

I recall Italian themed Thanksgivings of my childhood with escarole soup, antipasti, some type of pasta (ravioli perhaps?) and, oh right, turkey with all the sides. That table of bounty was a Sunday dinner on steroids - I loved it.  Clearly, I was not making the food for such a meal. I was more of a cheerleader for the event, but I have wonderful memories of the abundance and flavors. (Antipasti is still served thanks to my mom.)

I am reading an interesting book titled "Lies My Teacher Told Me" by James Loewen.  It is a kind of counter-textbook of historical facts that clarifies and debunks some of what we are taught about American history.  Thanksgiving takes quite a hit. Did you know that "although George Washington set aside days for national thanksgiving, our modern celebrations date back only to 1863?"  President Lincoln, in the darkest days of his presidency, sought to rouse patriotism in the throes of civil war.  He proclaimed Thanksgiving a national holiday.  No Pilgrims in starched white shirts. (The only tall black hat was the stovepipe one Lincoln was known to wear.) No Native Americans. While Eastern Indians observed autumnal harvest celebrations for centuries, many of the foods represented were not those we identify with Thanksgiving.  Seafood anyone?
 

Loewen goes on to state, "the civil ritual we practice marginalizes Native Americans." I am fresh off completing an Ethnic American Literature course, and the stories written by Native Americans and their descendants are filled with raw narratives about the decimation of their indigenous nation.  Thanksgiving is the least of their concerns, yet its invented origins have an arrogance that overlook what Native Americans truly experienced.  I don't mean to pour cold water over this holiday - I celebrate it but with more thought toward its spirit and less about the fictionalization of who did and ate what.  Native American poet Wendy Rose pinpoints the hypocrisy in, "For the White Poets Who Would Be Indian."

You think of us only

when your voice wants for roots,

when you have sat back

on your heels

and become primitive. 

You finish your poem

and go back.

A New York Times article, by James McWilliams, published a few years ago tells of the food choices surrounding Thanksgiving and looks at the myths with frankness. "There's no evidence to support the holiday's early association with food - much less foods native to North America. Thanksgiving celebrations occurred irregularly at best after 1621 (the year of the supposed first Thanksgiving) and colonists observed them as strictly religious events (conceivably by fasting). " If History could be taught with an eye for realism, even if it pushes against the often more self-serving versions of how we'd like things to be remembered or that we emotionally hold dear, its purpose would be best served- in truth.
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/11/24/opinion/24mcwilliams.html?_r=1&scp=2&sq=sarah%20hale%20thanksgiving&st=cse

So now, who is Mrs. Hale?  Well, she can be rightfully called the Mother of Thanksgiving, and yet, until this week, I had never heard of her.  Sarah Hale was the nineteenth century's Martha Stewart figure who was the first female editor of a popular magazine titled "Godey's Lady's Book." She ran the magazine for 40 years! An article in Humanities magazine, a publication of the National Endowment for the Humanities,  tells of her prolific activism. She was born in New Hampshire and lived a life of advocacy. She lobbied governors, congressmen, and presidents to have Thanksgiving declared a national holiday. http://www.neh.gov/news/humanities/2009-11/NewHampshire.html

In 1837, Hale wrote that a national day of thanksgiving, "might, without inconvenience, be observed on the same day of November, say the last Thursday in the month.... It would then have a national character, which would, eventually, induce all the states to join in the commemoration of 'Ingathering,' which it celebrates. It is a festival which will never become obsolete, for it cherishes the best affections of the heart—the social and domestic ties. It calls together the dispersed members of the family circle, and brings plenty, joy and gladness to the dwellings of the poor and lowly."

Interestingly she also founded the Seaman's Aid Society, "to assist the surviving

families of Boston sailors who died at sea." One more fine factoid - she is the author who gave the world, "Mary Had a Little Lamb." 

In my Thanksgiving Day thoughts of gratitude, I will remember to thank Sarah Hale - feminist, humanist, activist.  Other things I am grateful for include:

-a packed farmer's market the day before the feast - these are my people;

-nasturtiums that defy the odds and bloom for the feast; 

-the many expressions of kindness floating about me

-music that moves, entertains, and comforts me;

-having more books than time to read them - my anticipation abounds;

-feeling loved - feeling loss: the richness in both;

-my family, friends and acquaintances.

My friend, Stephanie, summed up her thoughts this holiday with the satisfaction a parent revels in as children come home, when she stated, "The nest is full." I hope all of your nests feel full, warm, comforting especially during this unique time of year. This holiday asks for nothing more.



Author Anne Lamott writes of the two best prayers she knows and these have become two of mine as well mostly because they are simple and direct.

Help me, help me, help me and Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Thanksgiving blessings to all!

One Good Deed...

The power of one. It runs counter to the pluralist phrase “power in numbers” which, after this mid-term election, I am relieved to set aside and consider a more singular viewpoint.

Greg Mortenson’s book “Three Cups of Tea” is a distinctive reminder of the power of one, though I daresay he would see his journey to build schools for girls in Pakistan as a effort borne of many minds and hands.  My fellow book club members and I heard the author speak several years ago in Media, PA shortly after we read his book.  What impressed me most was how he did not intend to impress us at all.  For example, as he was to begin his talk, he noticed some people arriving late, and pointed out a few available seats at the front of the auditorium.  He tended to those visitors as though he was an usher at the event.  This was no deflection on his part – he truly cared about the newcomers feeling welcome and comfortable.  His intention was warm and transparent like the tea he drinks in his bestselling book.   

I thought of him when I read a couple of related articles about the ‘power of one’ this week. They are gentle reminders of the power in each of us.

There was an anonymous donor in Canton, Ohio during the 1930s who remained so for almost 75 years. It is important to note that this donor was no Bill Gates as far as phenomenal wealth and philanthropy.  His story is as compelling, however, because his intention carries the same magnificent impact as any philanthropic powerhouse.

In 2008, a few days before Christmas, an op-ed piece appeared in the New York Times written by Ted Gup, a professor of journalism at Case Western University in Cleveland, Ohio and the grandson of a clothing store owner.  In the piece, Mr. Gup wrote about his mother giving him an old suitcase that belonged to her parents, Samuel and Minna Stone.  The bag was stuffed with papers and had been sitting in the attic since the Depression.   

The 150 letters inside the suitcase all requested one thing – financial help.  How they found their way to the home of the Stones and eventually to their grandson is a story of awareness and compassion. 

Samuel Stone was born into a poor family in Romania and immigrated to the US in the early 1900s.  He knew hard times.  He eventually started a clothing business, married, and had three daughters in Canton, Ohio. His business thrived, failed, and thrived again.  Mr. Stone never forgot the help he received to get back on his feet. In 1933, understanding hardship and the blessing of a helpful hand, Mr. Stone put a notice in the Canton Repository newspaper stating he would give $10 to the first 75 people who responded to his offer with letters that briefly explained their need.  He signed the letter “B. Virdot”  which was an alias he devised from the names of his three daughters, Barbara, Dorothy, and Mr. Gup’s mother, Virginia.

The healthy response quickly led Mr. Stone to decide to halve the dollar amount and double the number of recipients.  Christmas in Canton that year was a little bit better for these 150 folks who each received $5.  (Several years later, Mr. Stone sent winter coats to British soldiers prior to WWII – each coat contained an anonymous note of encouragement.)  And while the Canton Repository reported on the generosity of the person behind the ad, Mr. Stone's status as the donor remained anonymous, even to Mr. Gup until he opened that suitcase in 2008.  The letters, canceled checks and bank deposit slips inside detailed the efforts of his grandfather and led to the stories behind those whom he helped.

Last Friday, in Canton, at the grand Palace Theater, Mr. Gup met many of the relatives of those who received the $5 checks.  In attendance was Helen Palm, who at age 90, is the only one of the original 150 recipients alive.  She read her original letter to the group gathered, noting, “I am writing this because we need clothing and sometimes we run out of food.” 

Mr. Gup noted that in 1933, milk cost 7 cents, bread cost 7 cents, and a pound of meat cost 11 cents.  Five dollars was no small sum.

Mr. Gup researched and found many of the families who received the checks, interviewing over 400 people. He has written a book, just published, titled “The Secret Gift,” documenting the lives of those whom his grandfather helped. 

I don’t know what to call the economic times we currently are experiencing.  But I do know our every deed has a ripple effect and it humbles me to share the story of one person’s decision to act during some mighty tough economic times.   

www.nytimes.com/2010/11/08/us/08canton.html?src=tp

www.nytimes.com/2008/12/22/opinion/22gup.html

www.cantonrep.com/news/x1060487646/B-Virdot-A-Canton-hero-in-the-Great-Depression