PROTECTING OUR CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN

As mothers we try to keep our children safe and free from harm, and then when the next generation comes along we try to provide the same kind of protection to our grandchildren. We even want to shield them from some of life’s emotional blows. But at some point we are often made painfully aware that our love and our best efforts are not always enough. They get hurt physically and they get hurt emotionally. When we – and they – are lucky, they recover and use those difficult times to learn from and to grow.

But as was made clear to me anew by the publication of my daughter Dorri’s powerful and heartbreaking essay, “Defriending My Rapist,” published in The New York Times online on January 13 and in print on January 15, I was not only unable to protect her from a horrifying experience when she was only 13 – I never even knew about it until many years later. Sure that it was her fault that she had been attacked, and also sure that if she told her parents we would go to the school and demand that the boys involved be held responsible for their actions, and that she would then be bullied at school for having “told,” Dorri kept this secret for years.

We knew that Dorri was having a troubled adolescence, and we tried to help – by speaking to her guidance counselor in junior high, arranging for her to see therapists, providing positive family experiences. But until Dorri was 26 and had sought out a therapist herself, she never unburdened herself of the long-repressed secret that was causing so many problems in her life.

By going public with her story 37 years after the attack, both with her essay and her appearance on Dr. Drew’s television show, Dorri wants to tell young people (boys as well as girls) that if something like this should happen to them, they shouldn’t blame themselves, and they should go to an adult who can help them. It’s never the victim’s fault, no matter what she wears and what she does – it is always the attacker’s fault.

Dorri has received hundreds of responses to her essay and TV appearance, many of which came from other victims who also never told anyone -- boys and girls who are now adults. So many say that the incidents and shame nearly destroyed their lives, and many said that Dorri had inspired them to finally talk about these traumas.

I hope that my grandchildren never have to undergo anything like this – but that if they do, that they will be able to ask for – and to get – help.

9TH EDITION OF “BABY AND CHILD CARE” by Benjamin Spock, M.D. JUST PUBLISHED

Like many grandmothers of today, I raised my three daughters with the assistance of my dog-eared copy of “Baby and Child Care.” And then my children raised their children with revised editions of this enormously helpful work, which in its newest incarnation still starts out with those comforting, confidence-building words, “You know more than you think you do.”

Yesterday I was thrilled to be part of the book launch for this new edition of "Dr. Spock's Baby and Child Care." The book party was hosted by Mary Morgan, Dr. Spock’s wife for 25 years until his death in 1998 at the age of 94, and was attended by Robert Needlman, M.D., the pediatrician who has carried on Dr. Spock’s legacy by writing the 8th and the 9th editions, and other celebrants who either knew Ben Spock or honored his memory. The event at the venerable Greenwich Village Caffé Vivaldi was an exciting mix of tributes to this outstanding man, songs and music from the beautiful Iranian singer Rana Farhan and her band featuring the poetry of the Persian poet Rumi, good food, and good feelings. I felt honored to be there.

One of the most exciting days of my life was the one back in 1973 when both Dr. Spock and I were interviewed on the TV show Midday New York. After the show, I wrote this great man the following letter:

“Dear Dr. Spock:
“I’m sure that you must be used to reactions such as you got from me last week when I met you at “Midday” – heartfelt gratitude from a mother whose hand you held and whose confidence you raised as I brought up my children. And I’m sure you know how many people admire, respect, and support you for your outspoken and deep involvement in the peace movement. (We didn’t talk about this at all, but I am one of those people.) But I don’t know how often you think of yourself as a sex symbol, so I thought you might enjoy hearing what 16-year-old Nancy said about you.
“As we were sitting at lunch, my friend Sue and I were talking about how excited we were about having actually met you in person after having relied on you in print for so many years, and how wonderful it was to have someone in our lives whom we continued to respect over the years and in such different contexts. Then we talked about your extreme youthfulness at 70 – and here’s where my nubile daughter piped up with: ‘If I were 18, I’d really want to go after him, but since I’m under-age now, I wouldn’t want to get him in trouble.’ All I can say is that I hope she continues to have such good taste!
“All best wishes, Sally”

Then a few weeks later I got another thrill when I received the following letter:

“Dear Sally:
“I rarely get such an appreciative, flattering letter as yours. I’d be a spoiled second childhood child if I did. Your daughter’s remark was particularly exciting.
“Affectionately, Ben”

I went on to interview Ben Spock a couple of times for different writing projects and found him warm and wise and generous with his time. I feel blessed to have these memories.

WRITERS EMERGENCY ASSISTANCE FUND

Was I surprised to see that my last entry in these pages was almost two months ago, when I was volunteering for the NYC Marathon! Well, let’s see – soon afterwards there was Thanksgiving, when I volunteered for the Writers Emergency Assistance Fund (WEAF), a program administered by the American Society of Journalists and Authors (ASJA), the wonderful organization for nonfiction freelance writers which I have been a member of for almost all my writing life.

This volunteer stint was also fun – since for the first time WEAF held a fund-raiser in the Broadway offices of the ASJA, which meant that all of us who were there on Thanksgiving morning (including grandchildren) had a perfect view of the incredible Macy’s parade. And we knew we were helping a good cause. Tax-deductible contributions to WEAF help established freelance writers who, because of advanced age, illness, disability, a natural disaster, or an extraordinary professional crisis are unable to work, and a writer need not be a member of ASJA to qualify for a grant. To contribute, to request help, and to find more information about the program, go to www.asja.org.

And have a happy new year!

MARATHON P.S.

In my last post I forgot to mention one other interesting encounter during yesterday’s volunteer stint at the New York City Marathon. As I was standing outside on this lovely brisk fall day, a photographer who was shooting a documentary was standing near me. After we exchanged a few words about his film project, he turned and said, “You smell good.” I wondered what sparked that – until he asked, “Are you wearing ‘Opium’?” And indeed I had dabbed a little of my favorite perfume behind my ears before I left my apartment that morning. I rarely wear perfume on a day-to-day basis and I was amazed that anyone could still recognize the fragrance after I had been out in the open air for several hours. “I keep trying to get my girlfriend to wear it,” he said, “but she always refuses because that’s the perfume my wife used to wear – at least before our divorce. I still love the scent, though.”

And people say New Yorkers don’t talk to strangers!

MARATHON HUGS AND KISSES

One issue for many women “of a certain age” (i.e., grandmother-age) who live alone is “skin hunger,” a yearning for affectionate physical contact with other adults. Today I discovered a sure-fire way to get lots of hugs and kisses. I volunteered at the Finish Line of the New York City Marathon. Finishing a marathon is such an intense emotional experience – I know because I did it back in 1993, to celebrate my 60th birthday – that people’s feelings overflow. Today tears welled up in my own eyes for practically the entire seven hours while I was one of several volunteers handing out medals to finishers.

First, as the wheelchair athletes came in, I was so moved by the tremendous effort of these competitors who refused to give up with the excuse of disability. Instead, they used hand-powered chairs, and the winner finished in one hour and 31 minutes. Then I saw the world-class professional athletes come in, after they had used every last bit of energy they had to set new records or at least new personal-best times. Some were triumphant, some disappointed, and I felt empathy for every one of them.

And then as I saw finishers from around the world unable to hold back their tears as they realized their dream of pushing themselves to the limit and running 26.2 miles in what has to be the greatest city in the world, my home town, New York City, I started to cry along with them.

But between the tears I was cheered by the many men and women who, as I put the ribbons holding their finishers’ medals around their necks, could not resist hugging and kissing me as they thanked me and saw me as the acknowledgment of their personal triumphs. One man turned down the medal offered to him by the young man next to me and said, “No, I’m waiting for my wife,” and then, after accepting the medal I put around his neck, kissed me on both cheeks in the Continental manner and gave me an enormous bear hug. The volunteer next to me said, “Oh, I’m so sorry – I didn’t realize you were his wife.” “I never saw him before in my life,” I said with a grin.

KIDS ARE SAFER IN CRASHES WHEN GRANNY OR GRANDPA IS DRIVING

A report published in the August 2011 issue of the medical journal PEDIATRICS showed findings that were just the opposite of what the researchers had expected. Since most of us grandparents are in an older age group that has a higher risk of severe crashes, the researchers thought that grandparent-driven children would be at higher risk of injury. However, they found that children are actually safer in a crash when grandma or grandpa is behind the wheel.

The study authors examined five years worth of crash data, including more than 2,000 children. Grandparents comprised 9.5 percent of drivers in crashes (the rest were parents), but resulted in only 6.6 percent of the total injuries. Nearly all children were reported to be restrained at the time of the crash. However, children in grandparent-driven vehicles were less likely to be optimally restrained. Despite this, children in grandparent-driven crashes had half the risk of injuries as those in crashes when parents were driving.

We grandparents probably drive more cautiously when we have “precious cargo” on board, but our precious passengers would be even safer if we followed current child restraint guidelines. So we need to be more familiar with the best child seats -- and how to use them.

METAMORPHOSIS

I just heard a wonderful activity story from Super Granny Mary Heath, gardener and grandmother of six, that I have to share. I’ll let Mary tell it in her own words. And be sure to look at the photos on the screen:

On June 18 when three of my granddaughters -- Rachel, age 7, Hailey, 6 and Taylor, 3 -- were out in our garden, we found a black swallowtail caterpillar on my parsley. I have an herb garden and that species especially loves parsley, dill, cilantro, and carrot tops. We got the "bug house" container, which I had ready and waiting. This is something we've done before, as far as catching bugs and watching them. We put the critter into the container and then I suggested we look it up on the Internet. The girls liked that idea. We learned that getting them to pupate and develop into a butterfly is really not too hard. So, back to the garden we went to find more parsley, dill, and cilantro leaves. This caterpillar ATE everything. We were putting in food twice a day. Rachel thought he needed water, so we spritzed it a couple of times, just to keep it moist.
Two days later, on June 20, I put a small stick into the container, because we had read how they crawl up the stick to pupate. Sure enough, almost immediately, the thing crawled up the stick. By the next morning, it was hanging from the stick, just as it's supposed to do, but we didn't know if it would actually spin a cocoon. The girls had to come over (they live a few blocks from us) every day to see the progress. On the morning of June 21, the cocoon was formed! It was in that state until June 29. Nothing happened all that time, and I was afraid our little creature was dead! Then, on the 29th, I was working by the sink, and heard a little rustle and looked over at the container... the cocoon was TWITCHING. I called the girls immediately and they came right over. They got to see this periodic twitching... like a cat in a bag. The girls were truly amazed and their interest now was regenerated for sure. We didn't know how soon it might emerge, so we watched and monitored it almost every waking hour! The day following there was no movement, and again I was afraid the caterpillar was dead. The girls and I had talked all along that sometimes, in nature, things don't work out like we hope they will, and that we needed to be very patient. It might turn into a butterfly and it might not. I don't think either of them had doubts like mine.
On July 1, we noticed a color change... definitely a good sign, as it turned blackish and you could actually see the yellow dots of color on the wings, right through the cocoon. Rachel, the oldest sister, could begin to imagine, I think, that there was a butterfly in there. We talked about how it might be a very small butterfly because the cocoon didn't seem very big.
On July 2, my husband got up at 5:30 a.m., and said the cocoon was intact. By the time I got up around 7, I looked in the container, and could hardly believe what I saw... we had a wet butterfly! I waited until 8 and called the girls. They came right over and by then the butterfly was pretty well unfurled, and drying off. It was beautiful... really was. The girls thought it might be hungry, so we talked about the food it liked. No longer was it dill or parsley, but now it would be nectar from flowers. We gathered a couple to put in the container. Nothing happened. The butterfly was still sort of stuck to the wall of the opposite side of the container.
We had read that after a couple of hours, the butterfly would be ready to fly. We talked about letting it go or keeping it. While Hailey seemed reluctant to release it, Rachel reminded her that that's what butterflies do… they fly away, and maybe it would be happiest if it could do that. Hailey seemed to agree. Just about then, the butterfly flew a little inside the cage and found the flowers. We decided then, to take it outside, near some flowers.
We gathered around, with camera in hand, and gently lifted the lid. It was a few minutes before it actually took off, but it was big and beautiful and landed across the yard near some flowers, then off in the yards around us.
We've never seen it since, but I told the girls, when they see a black swallowtail butterfly, they will have to wonder, was that ours?