15 of 40

Written 12/15/16

6th grade was the first time someone asked me what kind of music I listened to and I knew instinctively that "musicals and folk music" was the wrong answer. My seat mate Andrew Kim used to write down the weekly Top 40 on a sheet of notebook paper--his handwriting so small and perfect it looked like the letters were typed. At some point he gave me a tape: Every Rose Has Its Thorn by Poison. My musical education had taken its next step, though I can't say it every progressed much beyond listening to the radio and listening to the music my boyfriends played. And I kept listening to, and loving, musicals.

I've been listening to Hamilton a lot lately. It's a musical about the first Secretary of the Treasury--one of the founding fathers. So random and so incredibly fantastic. The songs are great, the singing is gorgeous and fun, the story is interesting and important. And timely. It's a story about the founding of this country--can I say the creation of this country? The land was here, there were people here--these songs are not about that or them. These songs are about the conflict and excitement that went along with winning independence from England and the early days of being the United States of America. My favorite song changes depending on the day and my mood. I love the king of England and his funny break-up songs. I love the women--their voices and their thoughts. I love the men--their duels, with both pistols and words. There is a song about falling in love. A song about not getting the one you want and continuing to long for him. A song about taking your shot to make the most of your one life. And a song about parenthood that I keep going back to.

Dear Theodosia, , what to say to you?
You have my eyes
you have your mother's name.
When you came into the world, you cried
And it broke my heart

I'm dedicating every day to you
Domestic life was never quite my style
When you smile
You knock me out, I fall apart

You will come of age with our young nation
We'll bleed and fight for you
We'll make it right for you

If we lay a strong enough foundation
We'll pass it on to you
We'll give the world to you
And you'll blow us all away
Someday
Someday

It's sung by two fathers and their voices along with the words capture so much of what it feels like to be a parent. A pang, a deep hope, a powerlessness, an eye to the future. It helps me imagine this group of young men not yet three hundred years ago--fighting to win their points, wanting success and power and money, all of them white, and on some level wanting to build a country that they would feel proud to pass on their children.

Not quite a month ago I stood in the small hallway between my children's bedrooms and listened at the door to my younger girls' room. It was quiet. The day before was Friday the 13th in November--the day many people were killed in coordinated terrorist attacks in Paris. On Saturday the 14th I heard soft stirring noises in my daughters' room and quietly opened the door. Daphne, my youngest, was awake. Cleo, her twin sister, didn't budge. I picked up my cherubic, blonde, blue-eyed girl and sat in the rocker with her. She laid her head against my chest and I rocked her, pushing my feet against the carpeted floor. There was no sound except for the rain from the white noise machine. Rocking, rocking, rocking. My child safe in my arms. I felt a deep desire to just keep rocking--it was enough action to feel like I was actually doing something, but it was soft and quiet and comforting, all of which I needed.

I thought about other parents in other parts of the world and how, no matter what their religious beliefs or country of origin are, they too would probably like to take a quiet moment and rock their children. Even terrorists probably would. That is confusing.

Parenthood is not the essence of everything. It is not for everyone. These days it is the essence of most things in my life because it is what I'm doing--what I spend the most time doing and thinking about. I spent the 14th of November with my four kids and my husband. We went to the marina in Martinez and played at the playground. Went for a walk in the grass, stopping to pet dogs and watching ducks and seagulls swim in a pond. We stood outside the skate park and watched a skater dad with three 9-11 year old boys. It was soothing and painful to watch my children. I felt foggy and dimmed, unsure what to do or say and then continually drawn back to being with these young people--encouraging my son to walk a bit further, finding rocks for them to thrown into the creek, watching the little ones navigate the descent of a steep hill.

I do not think all people are good. I do not think everyone's intentions are noble or right. I know mine aren't always. Hopefully they are most of the time.