Inspired by a boy

I have an old friend who is a dentist in NY. On his fb page he wrote a touching post. "Today, after examining one of my twelve year old patients, I told him that he did not have anymore baby teeth. With great joy and excitement in his eyes he looked at me and asked, "Does that mean I am a man now?"


I can't stop thinking about this child and wishing I knew him because I remember waking up on my twelfth birthday and wondering how I would ever make it to my eighteenth and thinking six more years with despair. That phrase, great joy and excitement, says it all. He was excited for his life, now, and raring for the future. What does it mean to him to be a man? Clearly, it was a very desirable state of life with opportunity and privilege.


I remember being a tiny girl and lying on the sofa as my mother made breakfast for my father before he left for work. It was quite early and I was told I could stay as long as I was quiet. They spoke softly to each other and I felt quite sorry for my brother who had to go to school. I never wanted to have to leave the safety and comfort of being with my mother. I was one of those children who howled the first day of Kindergarden and can still see my mother looking in the window with concern.  She died of breast cancer within three months of that day. I wonder how sick she was and how important it was to her that she could see my first day of school. I remember, too, her showing me a little box in our pink refrigerator and telling me not to touch it because it was dope.


I have very few memories of my father before my mother died. And I do not have good memories of after. He was ill equipped to raise three children on his own. My sister was only two years old. Because of his lightning quick temper, he soon became someone to be feared. I did not look forward with "great joy and excitement" to growing up. I thought of it as the day of salvation when I could finally get away from the violence and chaos.


I am not the only one who has had a challenging childhood. The old man himself had a horrific childhood and vowed to do better for his children. I am sure that had my mother lived things would have been very different. Looking back, I think he laid hands on my step-mother, too. One of Harriet's sisters who knew my mother, told me that she kept him in check and never accepted that kind of behavior, that he was a different man.


I left home two months before my eighteenth birthday. It wasn't in my mind that I was a woman now. I was a child escaping. I have been lucky enough to have two beautiful daughters, now grown. I did better for them than the way I was raised. They are wonderful women, raised with love. I am not saying there weren't times that life was chaotic. I hope they looked forward with great joy and excitement to becoming the women they are.


Thanks to Marc Bienenstock for sharing his story.