To Live is to (Re)learn

I hope you liked the interview with Maryland Lt. Gov. Anthony Brown. We think it's part of our mission to keep you apprised of new voices and emerging leaders. We have a long list people we want you to meet (don't want to say who in case they aren't exactly clamoring to talk to us) but suffice to say, the list is long, international and quite diverse. So, on we go.

And of course, Dorothy Ford...love her and her story. I had seen Ms. Ford out and about, doing her community service thing, and I was so interested in how she made the transition from "wife-of" and "mother-of" to simply...living as herself.

How about you? Can you relate? Ever made the shift from public to private (doesn't have to be a national context, could be local...from school principal to homemaker, etc.)? What was that like?

As a final note -- the N Street moms who are celebrating Mother's Day without their kids. I thought you might be interested in how that story came about. I had actually visited N Street Village a couple of months ago because I was helping out with their annual dinner. It's a fairly well known local facility, located across the street from its founder, Luther Place Memorial Church. It was started back in the 70's, when services for the homeless, especially homeless women, were few. At that time, the homeless population was exploding, because, many believe, of the practice of de-institutionalizing the chronically mentally ill...I am told that some mornings, the minister, John Steinbruck, and his staff would find homeless women literally dumped on the steps of the church...sometimes badly beaten, nearly naked, often raped. The church began opening its doors; at first, all they could offer were mats on the floor. Now N Street is an award-winning complex offering treatment for drug and alcohol addiction, mental health services, medical care, and low income housing.

Anyway, when I was there, the woman bringing me around mentioned that one of the women I met was now strong enough to try to look for her "child," a child now long grown, who had been taken from her long ago when she was in the throes of her addiction. Pascale (my escort) mentioned that many of the women at N Street had lost their children. "Mother's Day here is terrible," she said. "It is the worst day of the year."

And that stayed with me. As a fairly new mother myself -- my children are toddlers -- I remember how hard it was to leave the house in the morning, just to go to work, when my maternity leave ended. I think I cried three times the first day, and was proud of myself when I got it down to once a day by the end of the first week. Some days it's still hard, no matter how much I like and need to work.

So I tried to imagine what it was like to not even know where your children are -- what they look like, how they're doing in school, and to not know, not because you had chosen to give them up, because you had decided it was best for them -- but because you were so deep in the throes of your own sickness it had to be decided for you.

I decided I couldn't imagine, so I had to ask.

Conventional wisdom calls for Mother's Day to be celebrated, but what does it mean for you?
Have your own life's decisions ever separated you from your children? Or your mom?
In the words of Cher (and I don't quote her often), ever wish you could "turn back time?"

Michel Martin

5:28 PM ET | 05- 9-2007 | permalink

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5:28 PM ET | 05- 9-2007 | permalink