God Bless Martin

Philadelphia

This has been a complex summer for me--not the carefree one I had imagined. Oh, well. On examining it, I think it's all about the meat of life--relationships, expectations, taking risks, being heard, listening for clues, waiting. I always consider those winter tasks--when we're all inside, there are more holidays that evoke "stuff". Not this year.
I suppose that for me, one element in the mix is the task of being the parent of adult children-- a challenge I didn't expect when they were born. Now, I love my sons dearly. I raised them pretty much alone from the time they were 8 and 11 ( I was 35 ) on a teacher's salary at first; then took the risk to go into advertising where the pay was better but still 60% ( 1986 ) of a man's salary. So, money was always tight. And so was time.

When I began in advertising, I was commuting from suburban Philadelphia to New York City twice a week. I'd go up on Monday morning's Amtrak at 7am that put me into Penn Station at 9:15am--two subways to my office on the east side. I'd work late, entertain clients, and stay all night in New York that night, work the next day in New York, then take the 4:45pm Amtrak to Paoli, Pa that arrived at 7:15pm.

Wednesday I worked at home. That sounds easy now, but back then it was a major deal. I had to convince my boss in New York that I could get the job done from home--and convince New York clients that whatever they needed would be on their desk whether I was there, and walked it over to them, or one of the staff did. Personal attention is the name of the game in advertising. Somehow it worked. It was my saving grace. Wednesday was the day I also went to the kids' schools to see what was going on.

Thursday and Friday I repeated the Monday schedule. I was never busier in my life. Both kids were in high school, Chris was getting ready for college. I had an au pair with them while I was in New York, called every night, had dinner w/ the au pair on my return home on Tuesday and Friday nights so we could" pass the torch" from one caretaker to the other, so-to-speak. I was exhausted most of the time, And, of course, there still was never enough money for the exponentially expanding needs of growing adolescent boys. You get the picture.

Now they are adults with jobs and families/girlfriends and loads of interests. But what I didn't know then is that the relationship with adult children can also be exhausting. My friends who have adult children and I commiserate from time to time about the phenomenon--something I didn't really think about when they were kids. I was 22 when my first child was born, and 25 with the second. So, I figured by 50 I wouldn't even know what zip code they lived in--my task would be done and we'd talk to each other at Christmas and Easter in between my adventures to exotic lands --or something like that! I'm not alone it turns out, the literature is full of data--the relationship with adult kids is nuanced, long-lived, charge ( by definition ) and lots and lots of space.

When the kids were small, they had "time out" in a child size green rocker that had been mine when I was a little girl. So, the green chair still makes us all laugh because it was the icon of discipline. Besides teaching them self control, I tried to teach them how to process, how to resolve conflict, to listen to others sides' as well as have their own but using THE SPOON. When discussions would heat up, we would each get a chance to talk --as long as you had THE SPOON in your hand, it was your turn--and when you were finished, you handed it over to whomever wanted to respond to you.

Anyway, this summer, I wanted both the green chair back, and them in it--and I wanted possession of THE SPOON for as long as it took to articulate my side. But I think part of the struggle, too, is that back then, I was "doing" all the time to make it happen for our little family. Now, my role is more like a third base coach--there if you need, but you know how to run the bases and how to win the game sort of thing.

Nothing's perfect, certainly not relationships that are as deep as family ties. But, I still cling to Martin Buber's notion in times of darkness. Buber, a Jewish theologian wrote about trust and what he called the " I/Thou relationship.
( http://courses.washington.edu/spcmu/buber/buber00.html ) Buber believed that trust was all we had in this world. And that the trust was built by two people risking telling their side no matter how messy or clumsy or angry to the other. Buber believed that the "in between", the ether created by the two courageous persons was graced--that it was bigger than either person. And, best of all, he believed that as long as you told your side in that cocoon of trust, something better --however small or delayed in surfacing--would emerge.

It's all good. I've got lots of patience these days. And, you know, dear readers, this is apparently my time for ...waiting.


M.C.