Category: Family

For Ellie Greenwich, Who Really WAS Leader of the Pack, With Thanks

Ellie_GreenwichWhen our kids were little, we used to sing.  All the time.  And early on, many of the songs they loved were written by this woman:  Ellie Greenwich. She was a tough cookie I think.  She was also one of the great song writers of her generation.  Ever heard Be My Baby? (“Bee my, bee my bay bee, my one and only baybee…”)  Chapel of Love? (“Goin’ to the Cha pull and we’re gonna’ get ma a a reed”) River Deep, Mountain High ?(“Do I love you my oh my, river deep, mountain high” that was Tina Turner.)  Ever hear of girl groups?  Then you’ve heard of Ellie Greenwich.  There’s a reason she’s in the Song Writers Hall of Fame.  She died August 26, the same day as Senator Kennedy, so I’m a little late, but I have a lot to thank her for.

Freshman year we lived in a dorm with a big porch facing Seelye Hall, the main classroom building.  We’d put our stereo speakers in the windows over the porch and blasted  whatever we liked at the time, especially in the spring, as the snow melted and spirits rose.  One of our classics was “Leader of the Pack.”  All of us, the Gang of Four as we were then, could re relied upon, for no reason, to belt out “Hey there, where’d you meet him?”  to which another would reply (in song, of course, and I know you know this) “I met him at the candy stoh – ore.”   It sounds so silly, doesn’t it?  But it wasn’t.

The tribal music Greenwich gave us was alive with the spirit that was all of us, before the War tore everything apart, when we just had fun and our minds were full of ideas and ambitions, and songs, and romantic daydreams, and songs, and learning how to be grown ups (slowly) and songs.  And her songs were so universal, so full of a love of living and living for love – way before we even heard of our sister alums Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan.  Somehow, as things became more serious, Doo Wa Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy Doo didn’t flow off the tongue so easily.  That’s why I was so glad when a Broadway musical, Leader of the Pack, opened in the 80’s and gave us another chance – and a great cast album, full of many of her greatest songs.

My own favorite is all tangled up in a memory.  It was a sunny fall day and my six-year-old and I were walking down a street someplace in the Village.  And we were arm-in-arm.  And our walk had a rhythm – right feet at the same time, left feet at the same time, just the two of us.   And the rhythm?  It came because, together, crossing the nearly 30 years between us, together, we were singing –Da Doo Ron Ron.”

Not quite this great, but not bad, either. So thanks Ellie. And the rest of you – see for yourselves.

Sons Really Do Get Married, and Their Parents Really Do Love It, (and Nobody Cried)

Our new family 1

There we are, our sweet sweet family with it's newly married eldest and his lovely brand-new wife.   It's an out-of-body experience to watch your son get married, and this was a wonderful one.  I'd been very nervous:  would it go well after the two of them had worked so hard on every detail, would they have fun, would we cry, would I look ok (well, after all, those photos last forever.)

It all did go well.  The groom (in the middle) was so joyous and ready, his speech so sure and calm; his wife so lovely and pleased, his brother (on the right)offering the loveliest, funniest, just-rightest toast ever.  There were only 80 of us so over the weekend we became a kind of tribe, tables shifting as people moved around enjoying the event, and one another. 

It was a great joy to me to see how much the boys feel for each other.  I have, today, two of my dearest wishes: that my children be good friends and that each son find a partner who is wonderful, honorable and loving.  So far so good.

I'd been thinking for months about the power of time, of change.  One of my friends commented on my Facebook page that "I remember when Josh was xeroxing his little hands in the office!" I do too.  And I thought I'd be consumed by those kinds of thoughts.  But this just felt right, timely and good for everyone.  No nostalgia, not "where are you going my little one, little one"  "sunrise, sunset" thoughts at all.  Just gratitude at the happiness and love that surrounded the bride, the groom and the rest of us.  May it always be so.

Days Before a Son Marries; Mothers-in-Law Get Jittery Too

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These two sweeties will be married on Sunday.  One of them is my son.  My first born.  My baby.  I don’t know why I’ve been so reluctant to write about it; it’s a beautiful relationship and a joyous moment in all of our lives. But I have been silent, or almost so, about it for some time.  Can’t seem to let myself write.  My sweet friend Karin Lippert, noting my cryptic tweet, wrote:

Congratulations… mixed emotions are the new normal, the new black? No, we have all always had overwhelming,wonderful emotions about our kids…

She’s right, I guess.  The mix isn’t between wishing well and not so well, it’s between joy and respect for the place these two have found together in the world, and my profound sense of time passing, and of change.  I’ll keep you posed when I can.

You’re Doing What? Trains, Planes and Automobiles (and Us)

MAP-SM_southwestchief
It's pouring in Chicago.  We arrived early this morning at the end of Phase One of our Great Adventure.  So you don't feel uninformed, here's the story:

  1. Our son is getting married next Sunday in San Francisco.
  2. My husband has a (we hope recently repaired) detached retina and can't fly until we know the repair worked.
  3. If we had waited until we were sure the surgery was successful, it would have been too late to drive if we had had to. 
  4. We are already fairly broke from tuition and the slow economy so why not spend even more money and take the train? 
  5. (really 4b) it turns out that the train is very expensive. 
  6. We don't have a choice so why fret about 4a? 
  7. There were no seats on the train until Chicago. 
  8. I drove 700 miles yesterday to get us from DC to Chicago to get on the train (retina detachment makes it hard to split the driving.)
  9. Our family doesn't know we took the train because the groom was worried about his dad's eye so our early arrival will be stealthy. (don''t tell)
  10. At least all this is distracting me from the sentimental squishiness that keeps sneaking up on me. 
  11.   You are now ready to return to the present where 

Rick and I are in the Metropolitan Lounge at Union Station in Chicago waiting for the Southwest Chief.  You can see the route above.  Actually I'm more excited than annoyed – it is something we would have never done if we didn't need to.  I can't picture the accommodations – I'm betting on a cross between all those black and white thrillers where people were always chasing each other up and down the aisles and flirting in the bed-sitting rooms and who knows what.  We'll see.  Meanwhile we're in the lounge with about a billion people on an "America by Train" group, with some smoker's coughs, name tags for all, and a pretty friendly environment.  I'm too tired to be friendly though.  Unusual for me.

I will try to post this afternoon but they don't have wireless on the train (WHAAAAT????) and I'm having trouble pairing my blackberry so it's a bit sketchy.  If I can't post I'll keep a diary and post it when I can.   Wish us luck.

Playing With the Big Boys: Bruce Springsteen’s New Drummer and the Rest of Us

Jay Weinberg 2
Does the young drummer in this photo look familiar? He's definitely not Bruce's long-time drummer The Mighty Max Weinberg. He is, however, a Weinberg, Max's son Jay.. I learned about this from my own son, who IM'd

"Did you know that Max Weinberg's son is now the drummer for the E Street Band?  It's a great story – little coverage.  Seriously – he is 18 and no one has picked up that an ageless band now has an 18-year-old on drums."

He's right.  It's a wonderful story, for many reasons.  Just because it is, first of all.  But also because all parents love it when their kids go into the family business; at least I think they do.  That's not all, though.  To be fair, Jay is only going to tour with them when his dad has to stay in LA to help launch the new Conan O'Brien Tonight Show. Even so, there's something lovely about Bruce calling and inviting him to join the band. Anyone who's ever watched a sound check or read about Bruce knows he's got high standards; this was NOT a sentimental decision. Jay can play the drums.

So why do I love this?  A demonstration of that kind of trust by a national legend close to three times  his age is pretty impressive.  The idea of two generations on stage together as peers is an example of something that's been important to me for years: alliances across generations in all manner of venues.

I've been writing both here and on SVMoms about the tensions between Boomers and Millennials.  There is a growing stress between us.  Just a month ago I heard a young political social media genius – a serious one – mock the Boomers who claimed they helped to end the Vietnam War.  "Dead soldiers ended the war, not you guys." he said with determination.  Permutations of that attitude abound; although perhaps less so in families where parenting was respectful and strong and included a history of those times and a modest explanation of what we were trying to do.  

President Obama, whose attitudes and capabilities I admire, tends to imply that it's time to ditch, at the least, a lot of the rhetoric and style of that time.  I don't disagree.  All that I want is for those of us in my generation and the younger people whose core values we share to be free to travel across the boundaries of style and execution to be allies and friends rather than adversaries.  That kind of sharing emerges from respect in both directions, from engaging younger people more as peers than acoytes.  That's what the Obama campaign did, and look what happened.

I've been fortunate, because of my relationship with my sons, because I've worked in the Internet world for ten years — so much with younger people, and because I am part of a community full of young families, to be able to do the same.  But the divisions are growing for many of us, and they're sad.

So when Bruce, who has so often spoken for so many, crosses two-thirds of his life to, at 60+, add an 18-year-old drummer to his band, it's an example and a message for which I am grateful.  No one who knows his music would ever think he would add a drummer to send a message; he takes his music, and his fans, too seriously for that.  He is, however, reminding us all that, 18 or 80 – talent, music, dreams, ideas, faith or fun, the walls need not be so high.  Whether it's campaigning for a candidate, working for women's rights, writing a poem, cooking a meal, building a house, growing tomatoes or making music, we are all pooer for the walls we build, and richer for the gifts we share. 

Another Landmark in Jewish Life, Another Lesson Learned

Getting Siddur2
When I first got involved in observant Judaism, I was appalled at a lot of what I saw.  Without any background or knowledge I was ready to condemn rules from keeping kosher to circumcision to the bedecken in a marriage ceremony to Jewish education.

I’ve changed my mind about many things (though not all) but more important than any single issue is the larger lesson of this lengthy and complicated transition: you can’t judge anything until you really understand it.  It’s so easy to laugh off a traditional life, modest clothing, 613 commandments (and I still struggle with many of them and remain, I know, ignorant of many others.)  But as each rule and ritual is placed into context, its importance emerges, if you let it.  Not for everything, certainly, but for more of this somewhat exotic existence than I ever expected.

Last night I went with friends to celebrate their son’s receipt of his first siddur – prayerbook.  It is a remarkable event.  In advance, parents come to school and decorate the books’ cover; the kids wear crowns with prayers on top, there’s a long performance full of the child’s version of many of the traditions and they dance and sing and tell us what they will contribute to the future.  Parents and siblings and sleeping infants and grandparents are gathered to watch, in a balloon-decorated room with cupcakes and apple juice waiting in the back.

Of course, all this is a kind of indoctrination.  But what I’ve realized is that I think any child rearing of merit imparts values as this ceremony does.  In this case, the gift of prayer is celebrated, and being old enough to become, at least a bit, master of one’s own prayers is pretty cosmic.  Most Orthodox ceremonies I’ve been part of celebrate this gift and the journey of our emerging relationships with God, each in our own way.

But as I remember taking my kids to marches, and boycotting Nestle, and raising them on Pete Seeger and the Weavers and politics all the time, well – that was a form of indoctrination too.  And we were determined that they would receive the values that we thought most important, and be raised with a keen sense of right and wrong in political as well as personal terms.  Now, of course, they’ve modified all that to suit themselves, as they should.  But they had a set of values to push up against, as their father used to say.  Instead of prayers, the signs in their school said “Each one, teach one” and every kid had a task to contribute to the community.  Not so different, just not Godly.

I know that we are a secular nation, and that many American Jews live highly secular lives.  I did too.  But somehow, we found our way here.  Tonight I’ll light Sabbath Candles and feel the quiet peace that comes with them.  And I’ll be grateful not only for that but for the grace and love of the parents who invited me to share in their son’s celebration, and who have so often provoked me to think harder and struggle more to understand this life I’ve chosen.  And have taught both of us so much.  Believe me, I’m at least as surprised as you are by my reactions, but as long as that continues, I know I’m keeping faith with the name of this blog, along with the larger faith I seek.

Shabbat Shalom.




Attachment Parents, Anxious Parents, Sanctimommies and Skinned Knees

Helicopter_WikiWorld
This morning I helped to produce a conference on parenting and "over" parenting.  It was designed to help anxious young parents who are often under pressure to be "better" and more attentive than their peers.  They feed on each other and worry all the time, and in cases beyond my community (I don't see it here) they compete, sometimes with cruelty, to see who's the best.

If you're a "mommy blog" reader you'll see it all the time.  One of my favorites is Liz Gumbinner, proprietor of Mom-101.  She has a gentle, loving, yet often hilarious and almost always moving take on life as a parent.  She also has a keen-eyed abhorrance for what she calls " Sanctimommies."  She writes about them often, and their thoughtless comments and judgments.  No matter how much we detest what they do, which is more often judgmental than well-meaning, they can get to us.  They plant scary, painful doubts, especially when we are vulnerable.

I remember this torment so well.  You don't want your child to feel bad.  You don't want her to fall off the monkey bars.  You certainly don't want him to be sad because he lost a T-Ball game and didn't get a medal or got a lower grade than the kid who sits next to him and didn't get a sticker on his paper.  It's terrible.  I think what's worse though is over-compensating to preserve delicate feelings.  

And that's what much of this conference was aimed at.  Speakers told parents that kids needed some autonomy, needed their own territory.   That protecting them prevented them from learning how to solve problems and bounce back from the adversity that is part of life.  They also made an interesting point that I think is controversial but tough to contradict.  YES, moms and dads are both important, but dads have a different role.  And mothers too often, in their frequent role as gatekeepers between the kids and daddy, set standards that are too squishy, not allowing the dads to find their own way to deal with their children.

This does not mean there is no overlap – nurturing dad and outward-facing mom.  But both perspectives – female and male, have value.  Many times as our kids grew up, my husband and I stopped one another from going too far in one way or the other.  I wanted to send money to bail them out of a jam.  My husband would remind me that if we ran to the rescue we were telling them that we didn't think they could take care of themselves. "If they really need help", he'd say, "they'll ask for it."

Other times he'd go nuclear in the punishment department or refuse permission for something perfectly acceptable because he didn't think first.  That was my cue to step in and moderate things.  I often thought sadly of friends raising kids alone, without this valuable balance.

I guess this is just a meditation on parenting in the 21st Century.  It's painful to see wonderful parents whose instincts are sound and who love their kids get tangled up in these issues, and it was wonderful to watch the dialog today and the passions in the conversations that continued over lunch and will go forward in several after-sessions.  In fact, it was very Web 2.0.  The speakers may have set things off, but now they're working with one another, strengthening not only their families but also the community around them.

Mommy Wisdom Across the InterWeb

Cindy Josh 6 Flags June 1975
This week I took dinner over to a couple who just became parents of an infant son.  It had been a long time coming and it was very moving to sit in their living room and sense the peace and – to be honest – blessedness of their parenthood.  I started out "doing something nice" by taking dinner and of course got far more out of it myself.  Being in that room is a memory I will cherish.

I told them about all the parenting tips offered in virtual baby showers I'd been part of, and about all the other posts I'd done about my children and my life as a mother.  Then I kind of promised I'd send them the links.  I figured, though, that as long as I was pulling it all together I'd make a little package for anyone else looking for the kind of parenting advice that A) might be really good and B) you can ignore without hurting anyone's feelings.  So here they are — and as The Band wrote, "take what you need and leave the rest."

First of all, since you have a son, here's a Julie's gift: a blog list filled with wisdom — a virtual baby shower of advice and warnings about raising boys.   There's a list of "boy songs" too.  That's a bonus.  If you want to read my contribution, it's here.

And what about just plain good advice about being a mom?  That was the first shower, and it's full of funny and often very moving posts.  Here's mine.

This one's kind of funny, and will look like it's a million years away – but it's fun: what to do when a second kid shows up and makes everything crazy all over again.  I wrote for that one, too.

My favorite is the one whose subject was "memories of the first thirty days."  It was an emotional whopper; once I started I had trouble stopping.  Here's what I remember.

Finally, as you enter this amazing new life, a preview of what it's like when your kids are grown and gone.  They're from December of 2006 and this past Thanksgiving.  For some reason both struck a nerve with readers; it's an amazing adventure you've embarked upon – and it's glorious in all its phases.  I wish you half the joy I've known.

Oh Sarah! (Palin) But Could She Be (A Little Bit) Right?

Just when we thought it was safe to go back in the water…. there she is again!  This time, though, some of what she says is creepily unsettling.  This loads slowly but is worth the wait – we can talk about it after you watch it.


Here’s the thing: Do you really think people, especially journalists, would have been so cruel to an “unwed mother” whose parents were progressive politicians?  Or to a Rockefeller or even a Bush? Throughout the interview, Palin raises the issue of class, and of the attacks on her kids; we’ll touch on that in a minute.

During the campaign, I wrote about Palin and the class issue, and the sad parallels to Paula Jones.  The fact is that Sarah Palin isn’t sophisticated, that she’ be a popular Girl Scout leader or Women’s Club president in the life that existed when I was a kid – around the Mad Men era.  Maybe that would have been OK if she’d known more, or been less cruel and incendiary in her speeches.  Her inherent lack of sophistication and experience, what William Galston has called “a celebration of ignorance” enabled much of the class snobbery the followed.  But follow it did; not in the “she’s not our kind” sort of way – it was far more subtle than that.  More in the collective realization of the “cool people” that she was a WalMart, polyester lady thrust into a J Crew sort of world.

Now.  Let’s think about the kids.  The family itself was kind of a throwback I guess.  And their omnipresence – thrust onto the stage – was weird.  But when Elizabeth Edwards was criticized for taking the kids on the road during the campaign, feminists and others leapt to her defense.  When Al Gore Jr. was arrested in a DUI it was a “private family matter,”  not a continuing object of ridicule.  Somehow though, the way this pregnancy and relationship has been portrayed has been cruel and tawdry without casting much light on Palin, her tenure or her philosophy.*  And remember the whole “mommy wars” thing – did Palin put her career ahead of her kids?  One person who wrote consistently well about this is PunditMom.  Take a look.

None of what I’m saying here justifies what Palin stood for or did as a candidate.  She was, and is, a scary person hiding behind “adorableness.”  But we need to think about the mainstream coverage of her campaign and how much of it derided matters of class and family, not policy and ideology.  There was certainly enough of that substantial stuff to keep any reporter busy.

What do you think? 

*I am not talking about conversations concerning issues of choice, sex education or contraception but of the less substantial, more visible harumphing.

Introducing Tuesday Tours: Random Worthy Blog Posts

Tourist with suitcases
Welcome to Tuesday Tours.  There's so much good stuff out in the Blog Universe; we all have our blog readers filled with those we love.  It's tough to keep up though, so until further notice, I'll be offering Tuesday tours of some of my own frequent favorites.

One of my favorite bloggers, Pundit Mom, offers posts at two ends of the spectrum as the week begins.  Both are worth reading.  The first:  advice to the Obamas about the neighborhood around Sidwell Friends School.  It's just fun.  The second is a serious post with a serious question:  When is it right to tell an airline official that a passenger is making you nervous
? 

Concerned about what's going on in Israel?  Check back daily at Writes Like She Talks, where Jill Zimon has her finger on what's up all over the Web.  Here's a sample.

The wise Maria Niles is looking to figure out all those generation labels like X and Boomer and Millennial — and what they mean (and what the heck her own is.)

Also "generationally speaking," you know that all last year I wrote comparing 1968 and 2008.  Well,  Time Goes By columnist Saul Friedman has done me one (actually two) better, writing of lessons from his own iconic president, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and Obama's point of reference, Abraham Lincoln. 

Beth Kanter is a legend.  Rightfully so.  So when she offers 52 ways for Non-profits to use social media efficiently as a New Year's gift to her readers, I'm figuring that at least some of them can help the rest of us too.

Two of my favorite moms have something special too:  I'm late on this one, but Her Bad Mother's description of a willful three-year-old (it's long so wait until you have time) is priceless.  Some kids are just strong strong little people.

Also, Woulda Coulda Shoulda's Mir Kamin celebrated her son's last single-digit birthday with a wonderful hymn to a newly-nine-year-old.  She never misses, that one.

Finally, this one – because the happy family in the photo is mine.