Archive for Articles and Essays
The greatest challenge of nurturing daughters into womanhood is the infinite number of choices young girls and young women have for creating a life of purpose and living out her passion.
Choice is not a bad thing. And it most definitely better than having no choices.
At the same time, choice, and alternatives require planning, responsibility and a good does of honesty with realistic views.
Choice means just what it says. You have the opportunity to choose.
When I think back on my late teens and early twenties–I met my now husband when I was seventeen years old–I am amazed that I married, that he wanted me and that we have remained together for thirty-two years.vWe’ve known each other thirty-six.
I tried committing suicide, my second attempt, three months after meeting my husband, then boyfriend. We met in August of 1978, my first week as a college freshman. He was a junior, practically 4.0 student, majoring in Chemistry and with aspirations
Though we dated several times, he even attending church with me, our relationship stalled. I was not her, never could or would be. I was also headed off for college, the one and same university that had graduated him.
I was sad during much of the summer.
He had stood me up and not followed through on attending
The day I married, July 3rd, 1982 stood six years from the day my brother had died. I can only imagine what my mother’s life must have been like during the years that followed.
Instead of having a child, a son at home for three years following the August of 1978 when I left for college, my mother re-entered a house where she would live alone until she died in 1996 at the hospital in Berkeley, California where my husband is on staff.
My mother did not drive me to college. Instead she engaged a former student, one year older than me, and who was a sophomore where I would be attending.
He readily accepted, safely delivered me as he
My mother was proud the July afternoon I married. The day before Independence Day, July 3rd, 1982, I marched down the aisle of the church in which my mother and her mother had been faithful members.
Though I had not joined the congregation I attended services. I had chosen membership with my father’s church. The decision had been simple enough. Couples much like my parents comprised the congregations of both churches.
The town in which the two churches existed, where my mother had grown up was
One of the greatest moments I have experienced as the daughter of my mother was when I graduated high school. The last four years had been difficult. My father died during my sophomore year leaving my mother a widow with two children. Eighteen months later my brother and only sibling died of drowning.
On graduation day from high school I possessed the
I am the keeper of memories and bloodlines in both my families of origin and immediate relations.
By the time I was sixteen both my father and my younger brother, who was my only sibling, had died. Life had severed my family of four during the span of two years into one of me, and my mother.
It was painful, the losses.
I will never know