My mom, Alice, the adoptive mom
Last year I received the court and social work records from my blind adoption as an infant. Now I like to think of my birth mother and adoptive mother as my mothers A to Z. My adoptive mom was Alice, my birth mother Zelda. And in between were plenty of other caring adults: E for Edna, L for Louise, my two grandmothers. And then there was my nurturing and formidable dad, W for Warren.
Each one of these people, and others including aunts, uncles, and many teachers, did their absolute best for me, reminding me of Hilary Clinton’s book, It Takes a Village. I remember the uproar when her book was published–“No, it doesn’t,” shouted some conservative press, some of whom had no doubt been reared by their own “village” network of caring adults.
Increasingly we see children with one or two overwhelmed parents, and lucky are those who have a capable, loving-hearted grandparent to step into the breach. I know such a person, a grandmother, who devotes much of her time to her working daughter’s three young boys, and whose husband is mortally ill, being cared for hundreds of miles from their home.
Here’s to you, CM, and all those like you, who offer the grace of caring for children. You do it for those particular children, but it’s a true gift to all of us.