Sing Anyhow

Peter Viereck died recently. Academics in the humanities knows him for being "conservative" which is not necessarily the same "conservative" of Washington DC. I don't care about labels. I just love these lines by Viereck:

Though life ails just a day faster than art allays
Though age rots out before it can learn to sing true
Sing anyhow. Continue.

MOTHERS

All I can say about mothers is that I have become bit milder since I've become a mother myself. My mother was not perfect as I am not perfect either to my children.

...and you don't have to have biological children to be a mother. In lots of ways, Lynn Ruth, you're the Jewish mother I never had but wanted for my children. Come to think of it, you are a mother to many "children" because of who you are...asshole parents sometimes still have the most incredible children and that's why I think conditioning is not everything: it's about taking charge and being a responsible individual.

The other night I watched this HBO show: Rosie O'Donnell had rented an entire cruise ship for gay couples and their children. I cried my eyes out over this one gay (male) couple with 4 adopted children: these two guys were the most amazing mothers...which just shows you: you don't have to have your own children or be female to be a good mother.

I wish you had had a better mother, Lynn Ruth, but we can't choose our path in life and have to play the cards we're dealt with. I don't believe in victimization and I know you don't either. Yet bad parenting is something we have to live with for the rest of our lives and I think the key is to distil the good and discard the rest. Your mother turned you into a survivor, into someone who will persevere no matter what, and life is all about perseverance and doing your thing regardless...or as Dorothy Parker said at the end of one of the most famous suicide poems: You Might As Well Live... that's what you're doing,Lynn Ruth and I admire you for it-- you are DARING to live in ways I haven't dared yet...

LOVING YOUR MOTHER

I met a woman whose mother is dying of cancer. She devotes every afternoon to care for her mom and often her evenings as well, because they do not live together. She has given up most of her normal activities to do this and she is thrilled for the opportunity give back love and concern to a woman who has given her so much.
I cannot imagine feeling this way and that is a terrible loss both for me and for my mother when she was alive. My mother was my enemy and what I am today is in spite of her not because of her.
My mother was not a cruel woman although many who have read Starving Hearts might think she was. She was the product of being so adored by HER mother, so over-indulged that she thought the world would always bow down to her demands. When she married my father she was shocked to realize that a marriage involved HER giving something back to someone else. She had expected only to receive his love and financial support. She felt betrayed. Fortunately for her, my father so adored her and was so elated to have captured this adorable blue-eyed red-head he knew didn't love him that he took the abuse my mother dealt to him and considered it small payment for having her to show off on his arm when he went out on the town.
When I was born, my being was more than my mother could handle. Pregnancy was uncomfortable and giving birth hurt; Once I arrived her time wasn't her own. When she was tired, I dared to cry. I was hungry when she hada other things to do.I became the reason she was not happy with her life. It never occurred to her that she was the source of her malaise. So it was that when my mother lost her place in the spotlight, she punished me.
As I grew up and saw other mothers who loved their children, I thought it was my fault that my mother didn't like me and so I tried very hard to please her, but I could not. When I gave her a gift and I did so every time I saw a pretty flower, or something I thought would charm her into a smile, she got angry. When I complimented her, she told me not to butter her up. I obeyed her. I did not complain. I escaped into books and school where I was the star she wanted to be. And soon I began to hate her...hate her because she had the power to hurt me and used it without any logic I could understand. If she had a bad day, I was punished. It didn't make sense. Yet when I appealed to my father, he said, "As long as you live in your mother's house, you obey her rules."
I did what he said. Each time I managed to escape, fate or bad luck or economics sent me back to her home until finally I managed to cross the country. She couldn't touch me any more. No daily phone calls telling me how inferior I was. No insistent commands to drive over 40 miles to her suburban home to weed her garden, wash her dishes, drive her to the store. That part of my life was over.
And I became me.
When she died, I was sad for my father and sad for the pain she felt but I was not sad for me. Jewish people light candles on the anniverary of their parents' deaths. I light no candle. When I think of my mother, I only think how glad I am that I moved away and never had to take care of her during those six years she was dying.
Sometimes, I cry at my lack of feeling for the woman who bore me, but most times I know that my mother's method of demeaning and manipulating me, created the strong, resilient woman I am today.
Someone asked me once what gifts my mother gave me and I said none. I was wrong. My mother toughened me for life's blows and those blows become more severe and more unpredictible as one grows older. There is a Latin saying "Don't let the bastards grind you down."
I never do.
Thanks Mom.
So I met a woman who loves giving her mother back the support and love she received. She made me realize that some might think I was a deprived kid, but because of my relationship with my mother, I got guts.
And so I say once again with no bitterness and no regret for the hugs, the kisses, the emotional support I never received: Thanks Mom.

complicated-- no answers

Lynn Ruth,

Do not fire your Brazilian cleaning lady. The older I get, the more difficult life seems to become. I used to think in terms of black and white but these days I see all the different shades of grey. As I am writing this, a bird races by my window with twigs in its beaks;(s)he is building a nest under the eaves of the garage. This bird does not have to think to about immigration issues-- all it feels is a natural urge to build a nest. No questions asked...I sometimes wish my life were as simple as that, without blogs that question this, that and the other.
When I lived in Denver, a little naked baby bird fell out of its nest onto our back patio. It survived the fall and I was wondering what to do. Could I save this little blind baby that tried to crawl on the patio, its beak opened wide? I had a little baby in the crib inside and I could not let it die, so I called the Denver Zoo-- and asked for the bird department. I got a German woman on the phone who heard me out and then told me in a heavy German accent: "You will have to kill sis bird." I hung up, calling her a Nazi, but she was right of course; we sometimes just have to follow Nature's laws and while Nature has no answers to immigration, I am in awe of this little busybody outside of my window and realize there's something very powerful about being, observing and listening, without judging, questioning or thinking: we have lost some of that art in our busy lives and while it does not answer your question, Lynn Ruth, it does bring us back to our center and the silence of being.

more on immigration

Immigration puzzles me as well I hire a Brazilian woman to clean my house She is illegal ... should I fire her? Should I let her children go hungry because I won't hire an illegal immigrant?
BUT what am I saying about my own family and about you who had to work so hard to become a legal resident of this country? Am I negating your rights as a human being and the efforts youmade to follow rules made by your host country when I pay a woman who should have stayed in Brazil until she qualified to enter this country?

I just don't know, Inez. I just don't know

Rewards

I cannot seem to erase my fury at Rene Villanueva and Richard Romanski for the evil they have done to me and that is a terrible flaw in my own character. I look at people like that who are very proud of the way they got something from an old lady even though she had the contract that proved she had a right to her money or her car. They feel victorious and very clever. Rene is delighted that by perjuring her daughter and fabricating an agreement that never happened, she managed to save herself 1600 dollars. Richard Romanski on the other hand doesn't see what the fuss was about. He had an oppotunity to look good in the eyes of a big blond bombshell and so what if the old lady didn't get her money? She was Jewish and those kind always take advantage of the rest of us anyway.
I think about the rewards they won for themselves: a car that was worth three times what she paid for it; a sense of showing that little, old Jew she couldn't have what she wanted in HIS court...and I think, "Would I do what either of these people (I use that noun loosely) did for the rewards they reaped?" The answer is no. I couldn't live with myself knowing I had cheated someone that way. And then I probe deeper. Let us say I complained to the district attorney and proved that Richard Romanski prevented the Bar Association from returnng my papers so I could continue my complaints against him. Let us say I registered my fury with the presiding judge because he allowed a mistrial to go unnoticed. What would I get in return? I MIGHT get a car that woman has been driving for a year and a half. I would not get the money since once you appeal in Small Claims Court, the case is virtually closed. I wouldn't get much satisfaction even if the judge were reprimanded for ignoring my rights because the injustice itself is what hurt me and there is no remedy in the world that can erase my shock at hearing false testimony actually encouraged by a man who thought I was not important enough to protect under the laws of the state and my country.
AND what would I have lost:
I would have lost hours of my time, time that I can spend writing my stories, creating my shows, polishing my humor and building the life I have begun for myself so that I can love living the life I have left. I have already lost my impulse to be kind to others. I am wary now and suspicious. They might be Rene all over again They might accuse me of stealing gifts they gave me. I won't accept anything from anyone anymore and perhaps that is a good thing. They say we need one another to survive but I am afraid of others now. I am alone. I know that neither the police nor the justice system will protect me or my property. That is the scar I cannot heal.
Rewards. Have I gotten anything positive from this experience? My enemies have. She has a car and both can bask in the sense of their own power to over-ride the law. I like to think that my rewards will come in the new people who come into my life. Perhaps mine will come in the acts of kindness others are doing for me every day. Perhaps mine will come in knowing that there is no one on this earth that can say I didn't reach out to them when they were in need.
Perhaps.
I like to think that this line of reasoning will finally dull the pain of being classed as no one because I didn't have the money, the impact, the influence or the connections to fight for rights the state and country assure me are mine.

illegal immigration

I feel mixed about the immigration issue. Like most immigrants to this country I had to battle with the INS, a humongous bureaucracy that lost my papers twice. It was agony and since a lot of people like me play by the rules, I think no exceptions should be made except in asylum cases. Just because you pay taxes but walked across the border illegally, does not mean you are more legitimate than the person who waited for his papers, before crossing the border.
At the same time, I also think that a place like California needs the immigrant workforce and that there are jobs and wages that Americans don't want. The immigrants who pick the grapes, work in construction and clean our houses are the oil of the California economy. I'm not at all anti-immigrant or xenophobic. I think all immigration is good in terms of turning the host society into a more dynamic, more interesting and more flourishing place. All immigrants are welcome here and the ones that are here illegal need to be stimulated and assisted to make themselves legal and that does not mean any handouts or shortcuts but form after form, which I filled out, too, to come to this country. America is about treating everyone the same way and that ideal should be enforced at the moment of entry. Plain and simple.