Baby Girl

This time, I’m gonna make our dreams come true.
Well, I love you more than anything in the world...
--Sugarland

My youngest daughter is off to Morocco for almost two months...to get better at her Arabic as part of a study abroad program, both of which will help her pursue her dream of joining the FBI. I look back at the world I grew up in and the world my daughters grew up in and how much has changed in 40 years for women.

I grew up in the 60s and 70s. Womens' Lib was a catch phrase and it meant a great deal as women broke more and more barriers. They began stepping out of the traditional roles of secretary and teacher and store clerk and entering professions that had previously been dominated by men. In 1972, Title IX legislation was passed that stated no one could be discriminated against on the basis of gender in any education program receiving federal funds. I remember as a student being horribly frustrated with having to take Home Ec classes--cooking and sewing. My mother had taught me both, long before junior high, and it was a waste of my time. Why couldn't I take shop classes which seemed much more interesting? Title IX passed a year too late for me. A sister who is a year younger now had the option of taking either Home Ec or Shop. By the time my sister who is five years younger got to junior high, she had to take both. Huge changes in five years' time.

I also watched the role of women change in the media. We began to see female newscasters. Television shows moved past the June Cleaver stereotypes. We saw television shows with strong female characters and leads. Helen Reddy's 1972 hit "I Am Woman" took over the radio stations and was constantly being referred to as part of "the Women's Movement". The term "Ms." came into being and people scoffed at it, insisting it would never take hold.

My mother had a college degree in Home Economics. She insisted that my sisters and I learn how to sew and cook so that we wouldn't "waste" our college education on these things. She wanted us to do more. All four of us have college degrees--I have a Masters in Education and Administrative Licensure, my sister has a B.S. in Speech Communications, my brother has a B.S. Electrical Engineering and an MBA, and my youngest sister has a Masters in Political Science--all a far cry from Home Economics.

And then I think about the world my daughters grew up in. In the 80s we saw the first woman appointed to the US Supreme Court, the first woman go up in space, and the first woman named as a presidential running mate. My daughters never experienced school segregation based on their gender. They took karate lessons and went on archeological digs. We let them go "mucking" in the pond as much as they played dress-up. We pushed them, and never let them think for a moment there wasn't anything they couldn't do--or shouldn't--because they were girls. And where did it get them?

One daughter has a degree in Global Studies and a minor in International Business. She did an internship in Shanghai. Another has a degree in Chemical Engineering and works in a research lab. And my Baby Girl wants to join the FBI and fight terrorism. I am proud of them, yes, but I also sometimes reflect on my own life. I can't imagine women going into these 3 careers 40 years ago. Like so many young women, my girls are smart and capable, and I am glad the road was paved for them. Their grandma would be so proud of them too. And yet I quit my job for 15 years to be an at-home mom because to me, that is just as important as any other job. I hope when they become mothers, they will find a place for that career too.

My Baby Girl sent me an email a few weeks ago, saying how happy she was that we were not only letting her go to Morocco, but we were actually encouraging her to go. I don't know if I can honestly say I am encouraging her. She is my baby. I want to know she is always safe, and will always be here with me. To hug, to hold, to laugh with, to be quiet with. But that is selfish. I am proud that she feels confident enough to go half way around the world all by herself, and immerse herself in a very different culture. I know she would not be who she is if she didn't pursue her dreams. And so I need to let her make her dreams come true.

So, Baby Girl, when you are four thousand miles and one left turn away from where the home fires burn, and you miss your Mama, here is my love song for you....

They say in this town, stars stay up all night,
Don’t know, can’t see ‘em for the glow of the neon lights.
And it's a long way from here to the place where the home fires burn.
Well it's two thousand miles and one left turn.

Dear Mom and Dad,
Please send money, I’m so broke that it ain’t funny.
I don't need much, just enough to get me through.
Please don’t worry 'cause I'm all right,
I’m playing here at the bar tonight.
This time, I’m gonna make our dreams come true.
Well, I love you more than anything in the world...
Love, your Baby Girl.

Black top, blue sky, big town full of little white lies.
Well, everybody’s your friend: you can never be sure.
They'll promise fancy cars and diamond rings, all sorts of shiny things,
But, girl, you’ll remember what your knees are for.

Dear Mom and Dad,
Please send money, I’m so broke that it ain’t funny.
I don't need much, just enough to get me through.
Please don’t worry 'cause I'm all right,
I’m playing here at the bar tonight.
This time, I’m gonna make our dreams come true.
Well, I love you more than anything in the world...
Love, your Baby Girl.

I know that I’m on my way. I can tell every time I play.
And I know it’s worth all the dues I pay, when I can write to you and say...

Dear Mom and Dad,
I’ll send money. I’m so rich that it ain’t funny.
It ought to be more than enough to get you through.
Please don’t worry 'cause I’m all right,
I’m staying here at the Ritz tonight
What do you know, we made our dreams come true.
And there are fancy cars and diamond rings,
But you know that they don't mean a thing.
They all add up to nothing compared to you.
Well, remember me in ribbons and curls.
I still love you more than anything in the world...
Love, your Baby Girl.

Bohemian Rhapsody

Mama, life had just begun
But now I've gone and thrown it all away
Mama, didn't mean to make you cry...
--Queen

Years ago I worked with someone who said Americans have never quite figured out if our prison systems were meant to punish or reform, and as a result, they did neither. I realize why we have the death penalty, but I don't support it. I believe that if you feel killing is wrong, you can't say it's wrong except when we want to kill a prisoner...or an unborn baby...or any other intentional killing. But I did think if someone had committed that heinous a crime, we ought to just have some sort of penal system like Devil's Island, a place where prisoners can't escape and they are left to contend with each other. A sort of "throw away the key" approach. But events of the last year have caused me to really examine some of those beliefs.

For the past nine months, I have watched a friend of mine deal with the horrific tragedy of her grown son being arrested for killing his 8 month old infant son, her grandson. You hear about stories like this on the news from time to time and you are horrified and you wonder what kind of person could do such a thing. This is the first time I ever saw what it did to the victim's family. My friend was there when the baby's body was discovered. My friend worked with the police to track down her son. My friend had to grieve the loss of her grandson who died a violent death at the hands of someone she also loved. My friend had to deal with other family members' grief and anger and depression. My friend had to testify at the grand jury hearing that indicted her son with first degree murder charges. My friend worried that the publicity surrounding this would jeopardize her job. My friend worked hard to "live in the day" so she could get through each day. My friend acknowledged to me that her son had to be held accountable for what he had done, but also sat in the courtroom for moral support for her son the day the judge gave him a life sentence--and she struggled with both.

And all this has made me understand that these crimes go far beyond the perpetrator and victim. It made me understand they affect entire families, and their employers, and their friends, and the police officers and court officials involved, and so many others. My friend's son will spend the next 30 days in a state prison, and after that, they will make a decision where he will spend the rest of his life...either there or one of the other prisons in the state. And I cannot imagine what she will do if it is not nearby.

In my genealogy research, I came across an ancestor whose brother was hung for murdering a woman. It sounded like a love triangle, but I'm not sure. Back then, newspapers were somewhat more sensational in some respects, and somewhat more delicate in other respects, but I think that's what they were alluding to. And in light of everything I've watched my friend go through, I can't imagine what it's like for families who have a relative who has been given a death sentence. Am I being sympathetic when there are psychos and serial killers and sadistic rapists and all sorts of really evil people out there who commit heinous crimes against innocent people? No. They deserve to be locked up where they can't hurt anyone else. But do their families deserve to lose a loved one? Their victims (or the victims' families) might argue for "an eye for an eye" justice. I just don't believe in it.

My friend's son's life is essentially forfeit. She may not live long enough to see him out of prison--if he ever gets out. She's lost a grandson and a son. She's working hard to come to terms with both. And along the way, she's taught me some incredible life lessons on priorities, on finding inner strength, on personal integrity, on being a mom, and so many other things. I consider it fortunate that she came into my life. The world needs more people like her.

So...as my Baby Girl pursues her plans to go into law, or criminal justice, or law enforcement, I hope she will find balance. Keep us safe, take care of the bad guys, and always, always, remember the families.

Shuttin' Detroit Down

While the boss man takes his bonus pay and jets on out of town
DC's bailing out them bankers as the farmers auction ground
Yeah, while they're living up on Wall Street in that New York City town
Here in the real world they're shuttin' Detroit down

--John Rich

Today I had a long talk with my teaching staff. It's been a long hard haul these last two years getting our school up and running. Each and every one of them has worked hard and they deserve a lot of credit. Like everyone, they would like better hours and more pay. I had to tell them the hours are what they are. I'll work with our board to do what I can for a pay scale and employee compensation plan, however. Where they fell on the continuum of their requests, I think, depends a whole lot on their life experience and job experience. The more experience the teacher has with other schools or employers, the more they likely they are to acknowledge our work environment is pretty good. Those with less experience are being more demanding. They'd have a rude awaking if they went somewhere else.

I think my first job experience would have been my babysitting--and I did a lot of it. It's how I paid for my trip to Germany. Fifty cents an hour for years til I earned the hundreds of dollars the trip cost.

My first employment was at the Baskin Robbins ice cream store at the IDS Crystal Court. We were told it was the second busiest of their stores, second only to the one at Grand Central Station. I took the bus downtown for every shift, evenings after school and on weekends. Pay was about $2.30/hour. I learned a whole lot about other walks of life working there. We had everyone from business people who stopped in on their lunch hour to transvestites who trolled the streets to homeless people who begged. I also learned how to deal with - and stand up to - workplace harassment on that job.

Then I got a job at Dayton's Department Store in downtown Minneapolis. The interview took so long I had to forgo my Senior Snow Party trip. Priorities. My parents had and expectation that I go to college but weren't going to be able to pay for a whole lot of it. Having the job mattered. Dayton's placed me at their switchboard. No matter what store you called, you got our switchboard and we answered according to which light lit up. We were expected to answer 220 calls per hour during peak calling times. I got an employee discount working there though and learned the value of job benefits working there.

I spent one summer working as a live-in nanny for a family with 3 kids. Mom was an attorney and dad was a children's surgeon. Their work life and social life was such that it was easier for them to have a live-in nanny to depend on. It was also a way for me to move out of my parent's house, something I really wanted to be able to do. My mother was upset. To her, my desire to move out implied I was unhappy at home. I wasn't. I just desperately wanted to be independent. On that job I started to learn what that really meant and just how hard it was.

I had two summers I spent at Camp Tamarac. That was, by far, the funnest job I ever had. I got paid to be with kids and be out in the woods all summer. I made some friends I still keep in touch with 30 years later, and some of the best memories of my life. It's also where I met my husband, even though he didn't work there. He was a friend of someone who did.

I spent about a year or two working for a chain of group homes for mentally retarded teens. These were individuals who had such severe behavior problems it was the last stop before permanent committal to a state hospital. I learned a lot about behavior modification that served me well in my teaching career. It also helped me learn I didn't want to go into Special Ed like I thought I did. That laid the groundwork for a very important aspect of my parenting....give my kids a taste of what they were interested in so they could try it out before they invested 4 years of college only to decide it wasn't really what they wanted to do. It's why we paid for my oldest to go to archeology camp, paid for years of art lessons for another, and are sending my youngest off to an Arabic-speaking country this month in pursuit of her career goals.

Once I got my teaching degree, I worked with mentally retarded adults teaching them job skills. I left there after it became apparent it was more of a day care than a facility that helped them become self-sufficient. I learned the importance of following through on the mission of a program or company and one's ideals. If you're only paying lip-service to a goal, it wasn't for me.

Once my kids were born, I quit work to be home with them. It was extremely hard for me. I felt suffocated at the smallness of my world and the lack of adult contact. I felt I was doing the right thing for my children but that it was at the expense of my self. It was during this time I found La Leche League. Volunteering for them allowed me adult contact and also provided me with a set of ideals that people followed through on. In one capacity or another, I volunteered for them for ten years, eventually moving into management within the organization. They were, and are, an amazing group of women who promote a phenomenal form of mothering that makes this world a better place for our children. And they shaped my views on management more than anything else.

But I really missed the world of education, which is what I set out to do early on. So I finally made the decision to go back to teaching. I taught for many years...3rd grade, 4th grade, and 5th grade. I loved every minute of it. And I missed the work of non-profit management. So after several years of teaching I decided to go back to school to get my principal's license. I saw that as the best way to combine my love of non-profit management with my love of teaching. It took me two years of night school to get my Masters of Arts in Education and another two years of night school to get my administrative degree. Then three years of pounding the pavement to get a job as a principal.

It's been hard work. I started a school from the ground up. I hired an entire staff. I'm tired every single night. Some people make me crazy. I need to shut down when I get home after a week of 12-14 hour days. But I love every minute of it and I love the difference I am making. I hope I am creating something good for our students. And I hope my young teachers will see what we have here and will stick with it. They are good and they are worth it.

Bridge Over Troubled Water

I'll take your part
When darkness comes
And pain is all around
--Simon & Garfunkel

This week I took five bullets out of a friend's hand who wanted to shoot himself. He was going for his gun and my daughter sat in his lap to keep him settled and distracted while I talked him into handing over the shells and his wife got the gun out of the room. His dad had recently died and now his beloved dog had been hit by a car and killed. Granted, he was really drunk and may or may not have done anything, but he scared everyone. A lot.

When we got to their house, his wife collapsed in my arms sobbing--and did so a few more times throughout the afternoon. My daughter kept him walking and distracted. I made him eat for the first time in almost two days. We kept pouring out the alcohol. We got more people over to the house. We got the guns out of the house.

After it was all over, my daughter posted on Facebook, "Maybe today could have just not happened." She should not have had to be witness to all that. She should not have had to reverse roles so drastically with someone she looks up to as a father-figure. She should not have had to worry that someone she loves might blow his brains out in front of her. She should not have been the one he called and have that weight put on her shoulders.

The loss of a parent is tough. I know. It's been eight years and I still struggle with the loss of my mom. People lose their pets every day. I've lost several. And I know it's extra hard for people whose pet is their "baby". But they don't threaten to shoot themselves in front of loved ones. If events like that push you that far over the edge, or that's what surfaces when you get that drunk, it's time to get help.

I Loved Her First

But I loved her first and I held her first
And a place in my heart will always be hers
From the first breath she breathed
When she first smiled at me
--Heartland

My CC Baby graduates from college today. A top student in one of the top Chemical Engineering programs in the country.

She knows the story that when she was born, I had 3 days of start and stop labor. That we finally decided to go to the Emmy Lou Harris concert anyway. That we left during intermission because once the show started, my contractions suddenly went to 3 minutes apart. That she had the cord wrapped around her neck, and almost flipped herself off the scale when the nurse tried to weigh her. That she was born early in the morning and her Aunt, who gets up at ungodly hours, would be the first one awake to share the news with. And that she was colicky... She was born at a time when hospitals were just changing from keeping babies in nurseries to letting them stay with mom. If they put me on the floor where babies stayed with mom, I had to understand there were not nurses enough to tend to the baby. But my CC Baby cried every time I tried to put her down. Even when she fell asleep and I laid her down and moved my hands away from her in agonizingly slow increments, the minute I finally stepped back, she'd wake up screaming. At 3am, the nurses came and got her "because other mothers on the floor needed sleep." I did too. Three hours later when I went to go find CC Baby, she was laying on her tummy across the lap of a nurse who was doing paperwork. She informed me I had a baby "that just needs to be held." At the time, I didn't realize the weight of those words. Months later, we finally figured out she was lactose intolerant--to the point that my nursing bothered her if I drank milk. Once we stopped the dairy, she was a happier baby. To this day though, she needs to be held or to touch people. It's just who she is.

I have always thought that my first daughter made me a mom, but my second daughter, my CC Baby, taught me to mother. Her need to be held all the time, and her colicky discomforts, led me to search for different ways to parent. It was because of her that I came to La Leche League. When my first friend told me about LLL, I thought it sounded a little bit weird. A few days later, another friend recommended LLL too. I began to wonder if maybe I should check them out. LLL gave me good, common sense suggestions on how to help my CC Baby, and they supported my instincts as a mother. And, over time, they shaped some of my core beliefs about parenting--some of which are summarized in the side bar of my blog's main page. I came to understand it's okay to nurse your baby whenever she needs to, that it's okay to carry your child, the importance of physical touch, how to guide your child constructively, and so many other things. They even suggested I would get more sleep if I took her to bed with me. I was desperate on that front and so started bringing her into our bed. But heaven forbid I should admit that to anyone! At a family gathering a few months later, when everyone was fussing over the baby and giving me lots of unasked for advice, my grandmother took me aside and quietly suggested I do what mothers did "in her day" and take the baby to bed with me. A huge weight lifted from my shoulders with that.

CC Baby walked early and talked early. She was, and always will be, very intense. She excels at pretty much everything she puts her mind to. She showed significant artistic development at a very young age and we encouraged it. We sought out and found an art program for her. For about six years she took weekly art lessons and eventually went on to win a blue ribbon at the MN State Fair for one of her paintings. She does incredibly intricate drawings with watercolor pencils that I just love. She's got musical abilities, writes, and has always done well at math. She got a scholarship to a college in California and although she really liked the school and living in the Bay Area, she decided to return to MN so she could enter the University's Chem E program. And now she's one of their top students. And today she graduates. I am so proud of her.

I had a friend in LLL who had quite a sense of humor. One year she gave her kids a list called, "Ten Reasons to Honor Your Mother on Mother's Day." The last item on her list was, "Because she's been your friend 9 months longer than anyone else." And I have. I loved her first.

Tamarack, Part 2

With a whoop and a cry
And a natural high
At Tamarack, at Tamarack

While I was at Tamarack, I dated one of the guys who was up there as part of the maintenance crew. His sister ran the Arts and Crafts building which is how he got hired. Back in the Twin Cities one weekend, he took me sailing on one of the local lakes. He had a small sailboat named "The Dawn Treader". I was amused with the name and he was impressed I knew the reference. I've always liked that and thought if I ever owned a boat, I might just use that name too. At camp, he and I spent some nice afternoons on our days off doing things like inner-tubing down the river, but as I got to know him I realized he was a pretty cynical person and that bothered me. It didn't last long.

Then I started dating SC. That relationship lasted more than a year. He had gone on one of the earlier bike quests and when camp was done, he and I set out on our own bike trip. We went back to Madeline Island and through Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Our panniers were loaded down with a small tent, our sleeping bags, and minimal gear such as a one burner camp stove and mess kit. Personal items were also at a minimum. We left from the eastern edge of the Twin Cities and headed into Wisconsin. Our first night out, we couldn't find a campground and ended up throwing our bags down in a wooded area behind a church. After that, we planned a little better. One of our goals was to go 100 miles in one day. The day we headed into Bayfield, WI we would have made our goal but we ran out of road. We did 87 miles that day before we got to the spot where we had to load the ferry over to the island.

One day, after leaving Madeline Island and on our way through the UP, we had rain. My rain gear didn't breathe all that well and the sweat I worked up while biking made it feel like I was in a sauna. That was grim. We rode for a good long while to get out of the rain that morning and finally stopped late in the morning for breakfast in some small diner. We ate a hearty breakfast but were so famished we ordered a second breakfast. The cook came out to talk to us because he couldn't believe two people could eat that much! And it was while we were in the UP that I developed an appreciation for pasties. It's a regional food and I've rarely had any as good as they make them in the UP.

We continued our trip on up to Porcupine Mountain State Park in the UP, then headed back. Cycling through Wisconsin is nice because they have well-paved shoulders on their highways. At one point on our trip back (and keep in mind this is mid-to-late September by now), we were biking along when a patch of dried, brown grass seemed to move! It rose up snarling and it took a startled moment before I realized it was a large dog that had been sleeping in the long grass, a dog that was almost the exact same color as the grass. It came after us, and it was one of those moments a cyclist has to get off the bike and put the bike between you and the dog. The owner heard the commotion and finally called it off.

We made the round trip in about three weeks. I went back to college for the year, and when the next summer came, I went back to Tamarack. This time as their Arts and Crafts Director. I convinced a friend of mine, Betsy, to get a job up there as well.

Betsy was majoring in Business and so took a job as the camp's office manager. She had never really spent time in the outdoors much, so this was all new to her. She and I roomed together in the staff quarters. Almost every day we could smell urine in our cabin and couldn't figure out why. It finally dawned on me we were down-wind of one of the camper's latrines; we just couldn't see it because of all the underbrush in the way. One day, however, Betsy was complaining about the smell, saying she wanted to know what it was. I told her it was "pee-bugs". She wanted to know what that was, and I told her I couldn't remember the proper name for them but everyone just called them pee-bugs because they gave off a smell like pee. And they get in your clothes and bedding and stuff like moths do and then you have a problem. She wasn't impressed. She went marching off to our maintenance guys complaining about the pee-bugs in our room and it was only when she saw the looks on their faces that she realized I was making it all up. I still keep in touch with Betsy after all these years and that story still comes up.