Sometimes, my Mom and I couldn’t figure out what made each other tick.
I know this sounds adolescent and whiny — after all Mom’s been gone for over 30 years. But just recently I got a peek into the poverty of her childhood.
It was like opening a door.
My Mom was the youngest of four children — raised by widowed working mom — in Hoboken, New Jersey.
I recently saw photos of the poverty rampant in Hoboken in the 1920s—when Mom was about 10 years old.
Despite difficult conditions, after high school Mom went to business school and then worked at Chase Manhattan Bank.
At 23 she married my Dad — a handsome, genial civil engineer. She loved in being a wife, mom and homemaker.
Having a nice home and enough food stood in contrast to the hard times she endured growing up.
So, Mom was puzzled and somewhat disheartened when I went to grad school after 11 years of being a full mom and homemaker.
Mom’s disappointment increased when I got job as a psychologist. This puzzled me because she was a loving parent, and this was one of the few things that came between us.
“I don’t know why you want to do that,” she would say.
I wonder now if there was a connection between her childhood poverty, the joy and security of her marriage and my going to work?
In retrospect, there were hints she thought my time away from home would leave me overly stressed and would ruin my marriage.
When I had bad hair days — which was often — she’d say, “Do something with your hair. Don’t let Bill see you like this.” Or “You better tend to your looks.”
I don’t think Bill cared what I looked like. He just wanted me to be happy. And he knew both of my jobs — at home and at work — brought joy.
Even when remarks are well intended, it’s important to appreciate what’s behind the remark.
Instead of being hurt and a little miffed, suppose I reached out to Mom in tenderness and tried to grasp what was in her heart — her experience?
What if I asked, “What was it like for you as a child, as a teen?”
If people who love each other have difficulty understanding one another, how then will we ever see into the hearts of those whose political views are different than ours?
What if we just ask about their lives?
With tenderness.
Without trying to override their experiences.
Readers, what do you think?
"try" - Google News
August 23, 2020 at 04:48AM
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Val McCullough: Try reaching out in tenderness - Loveland Reporter-Herald
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