a responsible life (lyn)

I’m currently reading The Wrong Mother by Sophie Hannah.  She’s a British author, with a beautiful style of writing that succinctly captures the mundane thoughts of everyday life.  At one point she writes, “ Esther is always accusing me of being prim, but I think deep down I’m more of a risk-taker than she is.  Sensible is just a costume I wear most of the time because it suits the life I’ve ended up with.”

I didn’t end up with my life, I chose it.  But otherwise, I think this author  adequately describes how I often feel.

When I was younger, I made some daring choices.  I lived more by impulse than reason.  

In 1971, I answered an ad posted on our college bulletin board and went to Europe with a girl I didn’t know.  We got along great, but after a few weeks we decided we wanted to see different countries, so we split up.  I traveled around Europe with a backpack, alone, for the next four weeks.  It was an amazing adventure.

In 1972 I transferred to Tufts from Boston University.  Yes, it’s a better school. My motivation, though, was not based on its reputation, but  rather on the desire to be on the same campus with Bob, my college heartthrob.  Though the relationship didn’t work out, and Bob is now married with two kids and lives in San Francisco, we are still friends.

In 1975 I followed Don to the midwest.  We had been living together in Cambridge, but he got a job in his hometown of Chicago.  So despite our not getting along at the time, and despite his writing a letter to my parents telling them how immature I was, I still packed up and moved to Chicago, a city I didn’t know.  I ended up staying there for six years and marrying someone else.  Don moved to Hollywood and became a successful television writer.   We are still friends.  He came to my son’s Bar Mitzvah a few years ago.

In 1981 I took a job in Boston at Gillette.  I didn’t want to let go of the life I’d created in Chicago, so I let my mother pick an apartment for me.  She chose well, and for 3 1/2 years I lived in Back Bay, met M, fell in and out of love with John, and knew I’d never leave the East Coast again.

In 1985 I moved to New York.  I knew no one here.  But in my heart I knew that this is the place where I belonged.  I’ve never wavered from that belief.

In 1992 I got pregnant, and was ecstatic.  Having Alexander was the best thing that ever happened to me.

And since then, I think my life has been filled with well-considered choices (one may even say boring).  I worry about all the things mothers worry about.  My son thinks I am conservative.  And now that he sees me being so responsible with even food, I doubt he can imagine me as a person who would hitchhike through Europe by herself (though of course I would never want him to do that). 

Living and eating responsibly is healthy, and that's good.  Living irresponsibly is more dangerous and less predicable.  It can also be a lot more fun.  


I miss you french fries.