CITY LIGHTS BOOKS, SAN FRANCISCO AND MY LOVELY SONS

Citylights_night_2When I was in high school this was one of the places I dreamed of coming:  San Francisco’s City Lights Bookstore.  Far from my home in Pittsburgh, arty, intellectual and free.  Ironic then that all these years later I’m here, usually, to visit sons ten years older than I was when I set my sights on Greenwich Village or Bloomsbury. . . or San Francisco. 

One lives here; the other’s girlfriend lives here so he pretty much commutes here from Seattle.  It’s a perfect place to meet and spend the holidays.  We came out for Thanksgiving and are here again, this time since Christmas day.

It’s been lovely, if a bit stressful: a new girlfriend for our younger one – we had dinner with her – and the pressure that comes from wanting infrequent visits to go well.  At best we see one another every couple of months; both boys wish we lived closer which makes me feel good but it’s tough that we don’t — and have not much prospect of ever moving this direction. 

Now it’s our last day and the usual burgeoning lump in the throat has appeared.  Both boys have been genuinely happy to be with us and have ditched their calendars to spend the week with us.  I’m very grateful for their attention – they think I’m nuts and say of course they want to be with us.  For some reason this astonishes me.  We do have fun – jabbering about everything from Benazir Bhutto to series television.  Lots of laughter and the additional delight of seeing the boys and Josh’s friend Amy laughing and enjoying one another’s company.  But as the time comes to leave, board the plane and fly back to our DC lives, a determined sadness permeates even the happiest of moments.  I once interviewed Naomi Foner, mother to Maggie and Jake Gyllenhaal and the woman who wrote Running on Empty, a film about children leaving home in a particularly profound and complete way.  "Parenthood is the only job" she told me, "where you measure success by how well you say goodbye." 

Little_in_snow_hug
Manifestly, we’ve done that well.  Our boys are strong, self-sufficient, productive men who are friends to one another and love their parents.  They know we’re here but know too that they can take care of themselves.  In that way, we’d be defined as successful.  But.  But.  No matter how proud I am, how grateful for their strength and wisdom, humor and goodness, I miss them. 

They are the treasures of my days and will always be, and the physical distance that prevents an easy Sunday afternoon movie or Chinese dinner and makes every visit an event is always a painful reality. 

I’ll deal with it and so will they.  It’s the way things are – and it’s certainly better to want them more than we see them than to have them sigh with relief when we leave for the airport.  And whether we’re there or not, their lives are rich and often joyful.  And so, I tell myself, at least when I’m missing them, I know they’ve become the men I would have wished them to be – for their sakes, not ours.  And that’s a lot.  It doesn’t put them here next to me — but it does send with me a quiet peace amid the sadness.  That’s really all I can – or should – travel with.  The rest — working toward and achieving what they want from their lives and moving forward in the world — belongs, as it should, to them.

Happy New Year.

 

LEAVING SAN FRANCISCO – AND IT’S SAD

Red_carpet
I’m in the Red Carpet Room at SFO and very sad.  Saying goodbye to my kids is always a wrench – for them, too.  I want to write about leaving but it’s the kind of thing that says more about them than I feel fair revealing.  Suffice it to say that on this week of Thanksgiving I’m as thankful for them as it’s possible to be.

I was so sad that when we went through security and they took my H20 spray away from me I burst into tears.  My sweet husband is on his phone trying to find a way to buy a replacement for me on the web.  God bless him — I do, every day.  See you in Washington.

Stress (whining again — sorry)

Stress_gfx_frm_mswprd Here we go again!  Both boys are coming on Saturday, my brother-in-law and his family will be here UNTIL Saturday, we’d like the kids to meet our friends in this new neighborhood, I have tons of work, no presents for anyone yet, and between Rick and me we maybe sleep a combination of 8 hours a night.  Not a good combination.

I’m not sure what’s doing it either.  I think I have to find a way to chill and remember what’s important — which is for everyone to have a good time and for me not to stress too much about cooking, etc.  But between our kosher life, the dearth of decent ways to eat out here and the cost of taking everyone out all the time we do need to eat more meals at home than we used to.  So I need to plan.  AND still do work.  AND see friends before the Big Week begins.

Messed_up_kitchen_floor_1 AND do my share of the household maintenance, crooked contractor lawsuit documentation and other pleasures.  (That photo on the left is the unsupported tile floor being taken up to be COMPLETELY redone including the addition of the necessary but OMITTED subfloor.  Oh you have no idea……)

Even so I’m so excited to have the boys here in our "new" house — and the rest just has to settle down.  Kitchen floors and extra people and unpredictability are gifts, not curses.  I know that. 

After all, the boys and Amy will be here, we’re all pretty healthy and still love each other. That’s a good holiday present right there….

I DON’T WANT TO BE A TURKEY ON THANKSGIVING

We’re going to Seattle for Thanksgiving to see our older son’s new apartment and be with both boys and assorted others.  I always get a little nervous when I haven’t seen them in a while; you know how it is — you just love them so much and sometimes if it’s too obvious it becomes a burden.  They are wonderful sons and wonderful people and they tolerate my enthusiasm for them pretty well.  Like any family, we’ve been through a lot together – good and bad — and understand one another pretty well I think.  But I do worry about what I do when I’m uneasy – I get way too verbal and my big effort is going to be to keep my mouth shut except when it makes sense to open it!

Emerson1_1 One thing I learned from my father (that’s him on the left) is to try like hell not to tangle your kids up any more than necessary.  He used to tell us that we should live our own lives and NEVER feel obligated to him; that the gift of us was all we owed him. 

His own father was a classic immigrant tyrant and so he, of course, went the other way.  I’ll tell you, I honestly believe that his attitude made us MORE likely to call, show up and fuss over him.  The only grief of it, aside from losing him, is that my mom kept telling us not to come home in his final illness, that he "would not want you to see him like this."  I finally decided to go to him – fed up with being put off and horribly guilty about not doing it sooner – and he died as I was on my way there.  I don’t think I’ve completely dealt with it in the 15 years since he died — too painful and nothing to do about it anyway — but I don’t want my kids to have that sort of experience either. 

For that reason, I forced myself to call them when I was in the hospital instead of, like my own parents, waiting until I was out and OK to let them know.  I really do think of them as grown men now and try to treat them with the respect I would treat other impressive men – but sometimes I slip and go "all mom" on them.   They accept it with good humor but I just would love to have the discipline to give them the respect they deserve instead of indulging my own over-expressive self.  I’m practicing all weekend.  Can’t talk anymore… shhhhh!