17 Again

Well, I haven't seen the latest Zach Effron movie but I do feel a bit like I lived it this weekend. I went to the memorial of Moky--the mother of my bff from high school.

I walked up the sidewalk to the imposing facade of a house circa 1902 or so. So many memories swept over me, like long lost friends I hadn't seen in forever. I couldn't believe the echos of kids laughter, until I saw two young tow headed girls sitting out on the sunny veranda at a table laden with new azalea blooms, eating pistachio nuts and sharing secrets. A little shy boy was walking swiftly toward me away from a large bumble bee.

I stared. The two girls strongly resembled the two mothers, sisters who had grown up in that house. One was almost the age at which I met her mother. The boy was not unlike his uncle who greeted me warmly at the front door with the most beautiful little baby in his arms. The baby has the face of an old soul, perfectly formed--not a mushy pudgy baby face. I thought that was fitting somehow. Maybe since his grandmother waited until his birth before letting go of her long journey away from her life. I was shocked he remembered me, to be honest. Mostly because I knew his older sister and in the self involved way of older sister's friends who were teenagers, I hadn't paid much attention to him all those years ago.

He called out to his sister S and I guess I expected the long blond streaming hair down to her waist and a petite little girl to emerge from the shadows at the top of the beautiful mahogany staircase. By the time she reached the newel post, she had morphed into a beautiful adult woman before my eyes.

Magpie was next and she and I had a laugh about how surprised I was to walk back into the house, which had not changed. It was like walking backwards through time because all the decorations were the same and I swear even the carpeting was the same camel color--and immaculate. Everything was so well cared for and I think the classical music playing may have been from a ....record. I admit I peeked around the house for glimpses of my memories.

The one room completely changed was her bedroom. That left me wistful for the pale green walls and pegboard covered with interesting things. How we laid across her bed and embroidered or patched our jeans and talked about boys, chess club (!) and college applications. How we smelled of Love's Baby Soft Lemon (?) and Lipsmacker lip gloss. And how we wore those ridiculous quiana shirts. (For those of you too young to know better--it was a fancy word for polyester). I am quite sure that Magpie wore an oxford button down and boat shoes or "Topsiders". She wasn't quite preppy--she actually sailed. She loved classical music and was one of my few friends not listening to awful 70s music.

Though it was a memorial, laughter and the hum of a larger crowd rose through the old lady (I guess I think of their home as maternal--owing to Moky) and reminded me of all the Christmases I remembered there. I will never eat a Diamond Smokehouse Almond without thinking of her. Or pass a gingerbread house without thinking of those days.

Also in attendance were the most incredible women, many of whom happen to be graduates of Smith College. All of whom were at the top of their game--then and now. They went to one of the most elite schools of the time--the "Daisy Chain" to the Ivy League. Many of whom were mothers of high school acquaintances. My mother went to Smith too, as did my Aunt. One of them, now in her 80s had just played golf the day before. These are women who didn't/couldn't let time stand in their way. It is so sad that Moky didn't have the choice. It was interesting to step back in time and also fast forward to what is today.

It was a beautiful afternoon, full of friendship and memories. The neighbors walked in to honor her and friends came from far away. I really believe it was such a wonderful thing to give people the chance to congregate and remember her. Many of them thanked the children for the opportunity--and I know why.

Moky gave a lot of people a "home" to come to at the holidays. She raised a family that will hang together for future generations and neighbors and a community who admired her qualities. I like to think she would have gotten a kick out of the memorial.

Touching, heartfelt words were said from neighbors and friends, unprompted and unplanned. It was genuine. I watched from the periphery, as it was years ago. I was her daughter's friend, and honestly, I am not sure she approved of me and certainly not of my politics! Though I suspect that like me, she had a healthy respect for people who spent the time to know things, who bothered to know about current events, to have principles--even if you must agree to disagree. We probably agreed on more than she would ever know...

Time marches by but we all need a chance to remember the past, to celebrate it, to wonder at it....and to be 17 again.

Unsung Heroes

Here is a "shout out" or rather a "sing out" to all the moms in Roslyn NY and all the other moms who are a little bit under appreciated. You are the unsung heroes of our time. But I was thinking, what exactly does that mean?

In my town, it means that a lot of women are at home with their children. They gave up the choice to be a doctor, lawyer or chief (of something), usually after they went through everything to attain that dizzying height. They used the choice that they finally had, (with thanks to the "women's lib" movement--though I am not sure "liberation" is really all that accurate)and made a decision to give their families the best that they had, themselves. For that I applaud you! Most of those women are like my sisters. They are homemakers. With out them it just simply would not be a home. They teach their children lessons, academic--to be sure, but also emotional. And isn't that some of the most important support that you can give?

As a mom who works outside the home, I suppose I made another choice. I thought that my choice was governed by economics and the material things I wanted to provide to my family and also I thought I should be share that responsibility with my partner and spouse along with the opportunity for him to be around more to parent. (I also work with him--the subject for another humorous future post). I always fantasized that I could be like my sisters. That I would be cooking with my boys, or doing science projects. In truth, I am not the most patient person. I guess that I wouldn't have been cut out to be home all the time. I work from home two days a week so I could be there for the bus, to meet the other moms and know about the "dirt" on the school etc and to do some of the IQ and EQ teaching and moral prodding that our kids need. One foot in and one partially out.

In the end, I am not sure any of us know if our choices were the right ones. All we can know is if we tried to do our own best. I used to feel so guilty, that I wasn't home. Then I realized that some of the moms weren't really home at all. They had a black belt in shopping, tennis, lunching or that ever present job of chairing (PTA Charity) and were barely there at all. In the end, for their kids, that may have been best also.

So what does that leave me with as my kids will soon be off to their own lives, to their own homes (hopefully someday). A little less guilt. A little more of a sense of humor. A little yelling and a lot of love. And of course, a little singing.

After all, you can't be an "unsung hero" if at least you sing for yourself every once in a while. Who knows, maybe some other familiar voices will join the chorus.