Growing Up Then and Now

In the morning my mom would sleep-in while we all got dressed, made our own breakfast and got off to school.  When I started junior high I even made my own lunch to pack; and all of us during elementary school years came home and fixed our own lunch.  It was only as we were leaving out the front door for afternoon classes that Grace would wake up.  This was because she never went to bed before 4 am.  After she put us to bed the night before, and said good night to Jack (our father) in whatever way that meant, she’d spend the hours between midnite and 4 am living her own life reading, clipping coupons, sewing, darning, and so on.  Then she’d get her 8 hours in.

Once we were out the door after lunch, she had her own time again, to garden, until it was time to fix supper, which was always later than any other kids’.  Because we had no TV we always played outside after school, until the 7 pm yodel to come home for supper.  Talk about creating time to lead your own life and not be over-burdened with household chores!  As soon as I got my driver’s license I did my own laundry at the laundromat because the wringer washer in the basement left too many wrinkles.

Grace Saving the Delaware R.

Whether a truck driver, a construction worker or a homemaker, Grace is loved by all because she’s so sociable, so funny, and such an intellectual.  She grew up in an IWW family where Ralph Chaplin, the balladeer, was often a dinner guest.  She was Secretary of her class at Wilson Junior College (as well as homecoming queen).  She had me read about Sacco & Vanzetti and Brown vs. the Board of Education at a young age.  And she never doubted I’d grow up to be somebody.

My good fortune to have such a great mom included learning frugality and not being materialistic.  The neighbors had Fords and Buicks and Cadillacs – we had a Rambler.  The neighbors went out to eat – we never did.  The neighbors had the newspaper delivered in the morning – we got my grandparents’ in the evening after they finished reading it.  And so dime by dime my parents saved enough for my college education.  It’s a huge gift they gave me – a chance to do whatever I wanted after college instead of having to re-pay a college debt.

I also learned kindness and generosity at home, treating others how you’d like to be treated.  When Maggie was back in the hospital for another long-stay (this time as a seven year-old for her second open-heart surgery), the nurses and doctors thought it remarkable that someone – with so much to feel misfortunate about – had no chip on her shoulder and instead brought out the best spirits in all the patients of all ages on the floor.  Way to be Maggie!  Good work Grace!

There’s so much more that could be said, I’ll end paraphrasing what Grace said to me as I left home hitchhiking to college in 1968:  “You don’t have to call everyday – we raised you to make it on your own.”

Dear Nick,

I  am real proud of your pick-off move to third base and your straight A+ grades, and I want to use this P.S. to tell your make-you-laugh story.

Teaching about sex is another top-of-the-list thing.  I learned from Purry and Scarface.  Grace, my mom, had informed the Dawkins kids that so long as we found good homes for all of Purry’s kittens, she wouldn’t have to get fixed.  Every Spring (and sometimes in the Fall) when Purry was in heat Grace would get us to the window and point out the arrival of Scarface (Grace’s name for him).  Scarface would chase the other males away, always successfully (I assume it’s how he got so many scars and won Purry’s adoration), and then start fornicating in plain view.  Nine weeks later, Presto! kittens.  The neighborhood ended up with many generations of Scarface and Purry descendants.

Well, Ellen and six year-old Nick were watching a semi-adult movie one night when French Kissing somehow came-up.  El asked Nick if he knew what French Kissing was.  “Sure,” he said, “It’s when you kiss someone and you put your tongue in your opponent’s mouth.”

Where did Nick learn about French Kissing?

Tomorrow:  Jack’s LOL Story

I’m telling this story because there needs to be give and take in every marriage – and it only gets harder once you have kids.  We had a furious fight over whether Jack was old enough / responsible enough to walk with his younger brother by themselves to the corner by the Lake.  As I tell below, Jack had developed quite a good sense of responsibility even at a young age.  Nick was climbing the tree and getting on the garage roof even before he was going to Kindergarten.  It is a debate for the ages how much independence to give your children.  I’ve read where at least one mother in NYC lets her 6 year-old take the subway alone to school.  Because my mom didn’t drive, I walked to Kindergarten myself, even crossing a busy street at the stoplight, rather than get in on the neighborhood car pool.  When I left home at age 17, my mom said, “You don’t need to call us everyday.  We did our best to raise you to take care of yourself.”

On the other hand, I’ve witnessed ten year-olds on Jack and Nick’s block being told they can’t go to the park alone.  Again, to Ellen’s ever-lasting credit, she’s let me win most the “being independent” arguments and we’ve so far – KNOCK ON WOOD – raised our kids to be independent and safe.

See what I mean!

Now the real test is approaching.  I’ve bought Mitzi, a Mitsubishi 5 speed stick shift on the floor, for Jack to learn to drive.  Jack’s agreed to pay me 50% of the purchase price to have it be his own car when he’s 16.  (He works as a “bagger” at the local grocery store.)  Ellen’s agreed to let Jack get his license on his 16^th birthday so long as he keeps up a B average in school.  I conceded on no motorcycles until he’s an experienced driver (but read the story “How I Came to Be a Lawyer.”)  Now the test I’m talking about:  Will Jack be a safe driver and skillful driver or a risky driver and a bad driver?

For me, it’s just like Nick’s climbing roofs.  If you let the kids find their own limits, then they’ll create their own safety zone – one they really know.  But, if you tell them No, you can’t climb trees, then these are the kids who later fall and break their leg.  For Ellen, it’s an innate mother-thing to be protective, and she’s right about that.  So far we’ve traversed without calamity and with our marriage intact, even though El once went so far as to tell me that the neighbor lady had threatened to call child protection if she ever saw Nick on the garage roof again; to which I replied “Let her.”

Tomorrow:  The Many Splendors