My Articles:
Two Mothers’ Worst Nightmares
Two sons and two mothers: Oscar Grant III and Wanda Johnson, both black. Johannes Mehserle and his mother, who does not want her name revealed because of death threats, both white.
Grant, 22, was shot in the back and killed by former BART police officer, Mehserle, 28, on January 1, 2009. It was New Year’s and Grant, from Oakland, and his friends were partying. Police officers said they were causing a disturbance.
That’s when it happened. Another officer had Grant on his stomach on the ground and was trying to cuff his hands. Mehserle said Grant was uncooperative and claimed his free arm was moving toward his pocket, possibly for a gun. He announced he was going to Taser him — subdue him with a dart gun — though Grant begged him not to do so.
Rolling Down The River
When my husband Harry and I took our kids on a canoe trip one weekend, we learned that one of them was very different from us. Our older daughter Emma and her little sister, Pinkie Lee, were three and a half and seven years old. Harry had decided that he was going to do all the planning for this trip and show me that he could manage such things. I never really had doubts; only a few when he told me we could take breaks at the espresso bars they had stationed along the riverbanks.
Once at our campsite, we were surprised that we were so close to the highway. When cars sped past some little pebbles would fly onto our smore ready melted marshmallows. Ah well, nothing to fret. We simply turned the tent around and made the camp site a bit cozier. When morning arrived, we were up and at ‘em. It seemed as though Harry had found a special place without many other visitors.
Seven AM, only the four of us on our merry way down the river that had just enough flow to move us comfortably down the water way. Nancy Drew and Tom Sawyer all grown up taking their offspring on yet another adventure. WHOMP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Our canoe hit a large stump that was big enough to stop us but not high enough for us to see it before it caused us to bump into and capsize. Luckily there was a small mound near us so we were able to get Emma and Pinkie onto the land while Harry and I turned the boat over to get the water that had accumulated in it, back into the river. When the boat was dry enough, Emma and Pinkie (who were not happy and could not understand why Harry and I couldn’t stop laughing), suspiciously got back into the boat with me, while Harry waded through the water until he could find a spot where it was deep enough to float.
Love and Anxiety
I think, therefore I am. I am a mother, therefore I worry. I worry about my children.
There are other worldly concerns in which I can sink my empathic teeth. World peace, hunger, poverty, corrupt governments, health care; I care about all of these important issues. But only after I’m sure the kids are okay.
When our first-born cried as an infant for two straight hours, we searched through the new parents bible of human development, “Your Baby and Child,” by Penelope Leach. We were desperate to find a remedy that would calm her.
There were countless ear infections and weeks on antibiotics after trying homeopathy that, though it would not destroy the immune system, did not work against recurrence. What would those drugs do to such little bitty valves and organs? Continue… »
A Symbol’s Deeper Meaning
We are on a road trip and we have stopped at a gas station to fill up the car, use the restrooms and get some drinks.
Harry handles the gas and refreshments. Emma and I go into the soiled restroom that is better than nothing at all. It reeks of urine and the floor is sticky. Every time we take a step, the floor holds onto the soles of our shoes for just a second too long.
After covering the seat with layers of tissue paper, I hold Emma above the toilet seat hoping she won’t splash herself or me. That’s when she says it.
“What’s that?”
I don’t want to turn to look at what she sees until she is finished.
“Just a sec, Em. When you’re all finished I’ll have a look.”
The task is completed but her question remains.
“What’s that Mama?” she asks again.
Continue… »
Stalking The Future!
It was our first Valentine’s Day. Harry and I had known each other for less than a year. We were young, poor and madly in love. Those were the days when fun was free and easy. Without any little mouths to feed, tuitions or mortgages to pay, the fact that we were broke never cramped our style. Our car was an old Volvo without a properly working clutch. (I know, what was I thinking getting into that vehicle?)
Sometimes when we stopped, we had to get out and push it to get into gear again. It seems unbelievable now, that when we would do this, we would be laughing the entire time. The power of our new young love was as strong and mighty as any superhero! Continue… »
No One’s Day In Court
We stood in line under large umbrellas for twenty minutes while the rain did not let up. Finally at the door, we take off our coats and display our belongings. Bags are checked, shoes off, jewelry placed in a small plastic bowl. We are not flying anywhere, we are about to enter the federal building where family court is held.
My friend has been divorced for more than a year but she and her ex-husband continue to argue concerning visitation of their young son. There are not serious differences, but the sort of disagreements that any couple might have about how to raise children. All the feelings of hurt and loss get mixed up and placed on the innocent child, who often bears the brunt of their estranged parents’ woes and in family court this is only too clear. Continue… »