This 4th of July would have been my mother's 88th birthday. I love that she was born on the 4th of July because a more independent person I have never known, not even me. I miss her. I miss her more than I could have ever imagined. I thought I was prepared because we had created The Daniel Family Trust, and took care of all of her estate planning needs. She was old and slow and often cranky and forgetful; not at all the woman who raised us. She had grown disillusioned with her life, and when it was her time to go, she was ready. From diagnoses of an inoperable tumor in her extremely enlarged heart, to her last breath was about a month. She died in the home she loved and in which she worked very hard to create and maintain, not just a home, but a hearth. A place to gather; to mourn, to celebrate, to laugh and to learn. I am now in the process of selling her house, and closing a chapter of my life; even though I know now that I can never completely escape that homestead and our hometown. I carry it all with me, but it is time for me to move on.
Unable to tolerate festivities this year, I buried myself in the John Adams miniseries, rerun by HBO on the 4th. It was fabulous and, once again instructional for me. I have always loved history and politics. Always. In fact, I got on the very last nerve of just about everybody in our town when I was growing up. It's just a part of me, just as much as my big thighs and curly hair.
So I watched and was mesmerized by the whole thing -- the stellar cast, the excellent photography and, of course, a great written work, David McCullough's 'John Adams,' upon which to base this miniseries. It was everything I love: history, politics and great writing. And it reminded me that it is time for me to spend more time on my writing. And so, I am clearing my head of administrative matters and clearing up matters left over from my practice, so that I can create the necessary space for my imagination to thrive. It's hard to write when I'm stressed out and unsettled. I still do it; it's just harder to focus with too much monkey mind. I needed to clear my head.
As I watched, I remembered how much I love early American history, and how miraculous that our democracy is still ever-expanding to include all of "the people." One of the most fascinating lessons of the Revolutionary War period and the drafting of the Constitution, was the art, and pain, of compromise. The largeness of the issues, actions and consequences before these men was something they all grew to understand and respect.
And treating one another as brethren was extremely difficult at times, as they all felt very passionately and argued fervently; first, about breaking from our mother country, and later in the Constitutional Convention, about how to govern ourselves. They were the landed gentry, of course, but they also took their roles in history very seriously and understood the importance of the future nation that they were building. And so, as one of the delegates from South Carolina said to John Adams, "Gentlemen can always come to an agreement." These men were on bitterly opposite sides of the matter; and yet, they saw past themselves, to the future greatness of the United States of America. And this new America could never be without respectful men on opposite sides of an issue being able to come together and compromise for the good and the glory of future generations of Americans to come. We could use their wisdom and sense of compromise today.
And as I ponder my new life, my Mexican-American Yankee-Doodle-Dandy mother's life (our anchor baby), and the gift of a great nation that is just starting to fulfill those promises made 237 years ago, I am filled with longing. It is the longing of the in-between spaces in life; when one thing is finished and another has yet to begin. I long for the sound of my mother's laughter and the feel of her hugs. I even long for her sometimes childish insults.
And mostly what I long for is the true America that we were always meant to be. So much of who we are is the result of the inspiration, ingenuity, risk, mistakes, institutionalized racism, hope and continuous forward progress of our nation's many people. I love my country enough to forgive the unenlightened, and often brutal, manner in which it has treated its own people; and to encourage it as it races to act affirmatively to make amends to those treated unjustly.
I say this because I realize now just how absolutely crazy the whole idea of Independence was at the time, and how miraculous that we won the war. I love my mother for the way she loved this country; and I love this country because it had the courage to strive for such a comprehensive, personal and unique freedom, that it has taken us nearly 240 years to just begin to fulfill. We still haven't completely gotten there yet, but we are ever so much closer than we were that 4th of July that my mother was born in 1925, into a segregated Ajo, Arizona. I am glad that in her lifetime, she was able to enjoy watching, at least some of, the barriers to equality torn down before her very beautiful brown eyes.
Happy Birthday Mom!! I miss you.
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