I think it’s with my grandchildren because I don’t feel like I’ve made any big mistakes with any of them yet.  I’m not around enough.  So I can just bring and give and feel fairly confident that they’re going to enjoy my company.  But I must confess, I was very glad to be home.  I could feel myself needing the distance toward the end of the visit.  And these are delightful children, every one of them.  I was just spent.  I could feel it.  It was all I could do to not fall asleep in a room full of grown-up…not that these particular grown-ups would have noticed.  They were busy on the video games you see.  But if a kid had come in the room they would’ve noticed, I’m sure.  But I swear, if they’d said, "Gramama’s asleep!"  the grown-ups (my sons) wouldn’t have heard it…until the third or fourth time…. and I’d have sat there with my eyes closed and pretend I hadn’t heard it either.  Ha!  That never happened, but I know myself.  I was so tired.  I can see myself doing it.

I do remember my mother hugging me when she cried.  We were alone in the house after my dad left the second time.  One time, we were holding onto each so tight when she sobbed, I felt her pain reverberating through my skull forever after that night.  It colored everything.  I mean, he’d left me just like he’d left her, so there was nothing I could do. But, that’s just little stroll through my shrink-dom.

Last December, after her by-pass, when they brought her up out of ICU, she looked me dead in the eye and said, "I shouldn’t have done this."  And I did take her hand at that point, even though she was glaring at me like a wet hornet, and shrugged and smiled and said, "Well, we’ll never do it again.  How’s that?"  And she smirked and rolled her eyes.  MAJOR relief.  Sometimes when I say things in an effort to be helpful, she’s very quick to tell me how wrong I am.  But this time, a little humor went a long way.  Now she laughs when she tells people how I promised to let her die next time.

But I do wish my daughter were closer.  If she’d let me, I’d do just what you’re saying and wrap her up so tight some of her pain would have to spill into me.  She’s having a tough time right now, fighting her own demons.  Who knows what got into her skull with a mom like me.  I’m sure there’s some great stuff in there, but we’ve agreed for now, if I were there, I’d "just be in the way."  Maybe I should go prover her wrong.   

Isn’t Joan’s video the best?  I sent it to my daughter.  "Roar with me, not at me!" 

I had a similar experience, except that in my scenario, the mother in the conversation became emotional while telling me a story.  She started to tear up, and her daughter, in her late teens, jumped out of her chair and was at her mother’s side in a heartbeat.  And as I sat there watching this daughter comfort her mother, I thought about all the times my own daughter had seen me cry…or caught me crying…and if she didn’t leave the room immediately, I did.  I honestly can’t tell you the last time I saw my own mother shed a tear.  But I have very vivid memories of my own daughter, telling me a story, and starting to cry, and how I sat on the other side of the room and listened to her story until she regained her composure.  I don’t feel good about that at this point.  Why didn’t I….move!  Hold her hand.  Anything!   Did I think there was something for her to gain by my letting her find her way through it by herself? 

I don’t know what creates these family differences, but I do remember how impressed I was that afternoon by how different things could be. 

Show off.  :0)

Nothing compromises the immune system like fear.  I may wash my hands, like always.  And I take my vitamins and get as much fresh air in and out of my lungs as possible, but I don’t think this virus will hurt me or my dog.

I can’t believe the Sunday news shows were dominated by this scare.  I’m surprised it didn’t impede transmission.

Dear, Ms. B.  I’m feeling like I inadvertently bad-mouthed my mother, and I certainly didn’t mean to.  We’ve had some strife over the years, but I do feel like that’s all been resolved.  I just look at myself as a daughter and a mother and I’m never certain I’m bringing enough to either relationship, or that either relationship really brings me much peace of mind.  That doesn’t mean I’m not deeply attached to both my mother and my daughter.  I don’t know what I’d do without them.  They both come to me for advice.  It’s just that the bonds seem fairly tenuous sometimes.  But that could be my own demons whirling around.  That’s all I was trying to say.

My parenting style was altogether different from my mother’s, and hers was fiercely opposed to her own mother’s, but — judging by results — I’m not sure any of us got it right.  We all just do the best we can…and keep learning from our mistakes and from each other.  (Except, Mother never makes a mistake and nobody cares what I think…but in theory…ha!)  As long as we all maintain our sense of humor…people can learn to accept each other as we are.  I’m struck more and more how much good and bad co-exists in us all.  And the only balance I can really adjust is my own.

Dear Joan, I’ve been giving this post of yours a lot of thought.  My first thought was, "Yikes! I’ve given the wrong impression here.  I don’t think of my Mother as a stone that weighs me down.  It’s not that at all.  It’s just, I can’t honestly say she’s been like the wind beneath my wings, either.  And she knows that.  We’re very close.  We’re just very different.

She came to see me last week.  Can you believe it?  Just four months after her by-pass surgery…that practically scared the life out of me…she’s driving and running around to her exercise class, and lunch with friends, or off to watch the tap dancers.  But at my house, after we looked at all the video I shot of her great-grand children, we got a bite to eat, and went to the grocery.  And while we were at the store, we had a disagreement about Boaz.  So before she left, I pulled out my Bible and I read the whole book of Ruth out loud…just to prove to her that, as it turned out, SHE was right! 

And as she was getting into her car to leave, she smiled and said, "I had fun."  And I said, "Oh, good!" But honestly, I couldn’t figure out when the "fun part" had happened.  I don’t know.  If either of us has a problem that needs to be baby-stepped away from, it’s probably me.  She just never seems to be having fun when she’s with me.  If other people are around, she lightens up quite a bit, but when it’s just the two of us, it’s all worrisome and significant.  She’s not my friend, she’s my mother.  And I’m not just anybody, I’m her daughter.  Gravitas!  That’s what it is with us.  Problem-solving, chewing the serious fat.  It IS meaningful and it IS significant, and altogether precious to me; but it’s not that carefree, gigglesome get-together so many other people describe when they spend time with their mothers…or with their children.

That’s the real troublesome part.  Why is it so hard for me to have any fun with my own adult children?  I can have fun with my grand-daughters, and I remember having a lot of fun with their parents when they were little, but somewhere along the line, this weird distance just creeps up, like some genetic wall.  I can’t really let my hair down, or forget what’s expected of me.  And any sort of intimacy seems totally taboo…even though, I always come away thinking of things I wish I’d said, or opportunities missed.  It’s odd.  ’Course, there’s been a lot of pain in my family…suffered and inflicted…but that’s all been sobbled out, talked to death and laid to rest.  And I’m not sure it’s any worse than other families suffer and inflict on each other.

Maybe I’m just stuck on an ideal that doesn’t really exist.  Maybe I just don’t know how to have fun.  Or maybe every family has a melody, or a compositional style about it, that’s beautiful in its own right.  It’s like I’m Rachmaninoff wondering what it would be like to be John Phillip Sousa.  (Now whouldn’t that would be silly.)  But you’re very sweet to send your love.  And to the extent that I’m capable, I’m sending you mine. 

Well done, Ms. Buck.  Naomi Klein’s voice is one of the most insightful and encouraging directives out there.  Thank you for a good morning.

Call my mother.

Geoh-gia!  Good to hear from you!  I thought of you, driving my little buggy around Lookout Mountain on my way to Savannah.  If I’d know where to find an Internet cafe in Chattenooga, I’d have tried to connect.  I spent a month in Georgia with my two army boys…one at Ft. Stewart, the other at Benning.  It was storming something feirce on my way home, Sunday, the 19th.  Hope you stayed warm and dry.

Wow.  Always hard to relate to people who have healthy bonds with their mothers and their daughters.  We have "legacy issues" in my family.  I’m sure there’s some love tucked in there somewhere, but that’s not exactly what the women in my life have been about sharing with each other.

"Your children are not your children.  They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself…"  Kahlil Gibrahn.

I’ve always taken some comfort in that idea, but when I listen to other women tell their stories, I don’t know for sure if it’s true.  Maybe I missed out on something that I’ll never be able to give.

Just finished Alice Sebold’s "The Lovely Bones" and am hoping to (finally) pick up Joan Didon’s "A Year of Magical Thinking" in the next day or two.

Have we all forgotten Charlie Rose?  Or do you people know something I don’t?  I’ve never really been a drooler, but if I could pick a star from the sky to have a cup of coffee with, it would be Charlie.  Dan Abrams intrigues me, too…or the head of the Israeli News…who’s name I can never remember.

But I have to say, the last time my heart really throbbed was seeing this sweet young Irish boy named Keith Hardin in a group called Celtic Thunder on PBS.  He not only made me wish I were thirty years younger, he almost made me feel like I was.

I laugh at germs….hahahah.

Let’s see.  The last time I took on a leadership position was organizing a Happy Easter amid family members who didn’t necessarily share my vision.  As always, I used generosity and humor to goad the grown-ups, and imagination and play to inspire the little ones…who, in the end, deserve all the credit for the memorable day we all enjoyed.

I think the important thing to remember is when you lead, people will follow, so you better know where you’re going…and have a realistic grasp of the time, energy and resources you’ll need to get there. 

Yours is the generosity that inspires gratitude.  Still caring.