Christmas 2008

Oh dear--it really is possible for me to get sentimental and a bit sad right now. And yet it feels like a sweet sadness as I had a rather beautiful day, going out with my two daughters and their crowd of friends to The Bagel, the best Jewish restaurant in Chicago, had an enormous meal and then we all went to a movie, "Spirit" which was mediocre and half of us almost fell asleep with all that food etc, However, the fun of the day was the good spirits and the love I felt for my children (2 out of 3) and the joy I got watching them talk and joke and be themselves. The day was only marred a couple of times when the kids, in my estimation, overstepped the bounds and got too familiar with me. I guess I may have been giving the message that's OK for me to be considered a friend, but really I internally feel that somehow there ought to be some boundaries and that I want some kind of respect for me and my stage of life and my accomplishments shown. That isn't about to happen. I have allowed the boundaries to be softened and now it's too late. I regret this. A part of me wishes they worshipped me but hey--I also raised them to question authority and be irreverent! You can't have it both ways. The other sad thing is that my son is over in Dublin visiting his father and step mother. Now, it is very heartening and happy that he is seeing his father and establishing a relationship with him after 33 years of fatherly absence, the sad part is that Brendan, I am told, is not well and has some rather serious health issues that might shorten his life span. Since he and I are the same age, I am reflecting on this. It has been 34 years since I saw Brendan and all the sadness and regret and hurt I ever felt about his not wanting to marry me and be a husband and father to Ben and Sheba (who was then only 3 years old) has totally dissipated away, like a cloud moving across the sky. I see him as a moment in time, a short experience in my life many years ago when I was young and foolish, and yet the long lasting result is the beautiful little boy who is now a fascinating young man named Ben Fine: an actor with intelligence and creativity and mystery. To me, Ben is a mystery since he has avoided having much of a relationship with me since I sold the house and left Michigan in 1996. We see each other once a year, if that, and once we went 3 years without seeing each other at all. If I phone him more than once every 6 months he gets annoyed. I can't tell whether it's just because he can't stand me or it is just that he doesn't want a relationship with me. I do know that his father and stepmother extended themselves to buy him a ticket and fly him to Dublin for a visit and for this I am very very grateful. I do also know that he does not plan to make it from NYC to Chicago for my 60th birthday January 20, 2009, and that makes me sad. I guess the archetype of motherhood is all about sacrifice, loneliness and loss. At least it is so for me. That is the sad part of Christmas for me--as I get older I realize my children have very little knowledge of who I am and very little interest in finding out. I am just an object of ridicule and fun--something to poke fun at and misinterpret terribly. There is nothing I can do about this--in times like these one must accept and move on. I move on. Glad to be alive. Glad to be healthy. Glad the creative juices still flow. Glad the kids are all doing well. Glad to be in Chicago. Glad that somehow the earth will evolve with me in or out of it.

Are You jaded?

"Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit."
– e. e. cummings

Are you jaded? If you are, you are probably between the ages of 30-45--squarely falling into the "Gen-X" designation. Looking sideways at the Gen-X'er's, (my 3 children are all in that group) I find them and the adults who commune with them off-putting, defensive and ultimately destructive with their phony, false self-deprecation (there's nothing more egotistical than false humility!), their jaded, nasty cynical attitude toward life, their determination to do everything possible to disdain hope and freedom of expression, curiosity and wonderous delight in the moments of life. Delight is considered "childish" by this jaded group. We all have to be realistic--the "bubble" of denial that has burst into a river of weeping and wailing in this country is certainly sign enough that unrealistic expectations and hopefulness based on fantasy can end in terrible disillusionment and hopelessness. On the other hand, the antidote to disillusion is not cynicism and sarcasm--it is renewed hope in the moments of life, the firm belief in values that actually last, such as relationships, love, giving, compassion and true self awareness. Whatever spiritual or religious path you are on is not the issue--the fact is whether you are even bothering to look for a path at all. It does seem to me that the Gen-X'ers have more in common with my parents who sunk all their eggs into the commerce-money-materialism basket, only to find total despair and loneliness in their later years. In order to affirm life one must affirm hope. Without hope what is the point? The next question should be: what are we hoping for? This is a question that I am in the process of answering for myself and for those of you who are reading this, my wish for you in the coming year is the courage to embark on your own private journey in this direction and find out where it leads you.

Could we find another e.e.cummings in this day and age--a poet who has the hope and open wonder and delight--a poet who could write something like this?

you shall above all things be glad and young

you shall above all things be glad and young
For if you're young,whatever life you wear

it will become you;and if you are glad
whatever's living will yourself become.
Girlboys may nothing more than boygirls need:
i can entirely her only love

whose any mystery makes every man's
flesh put space on;and his mind take off time

that you should ever think,may god forbid
and (in his mercy) your true lover spare:
for that way knowledge lies,the foetal grave
called progress,and negation's dead undoom.

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance