We Became Our Mothers and Fathers Without A Sound.

August 28, 2006 – 9:44 pm |

When I went to college (which really wasn’t all that long ago) my favorite thing to do was check my mail. Not my e-mail. My real, go to the post office, put in the key, pull out the letters mailbox. In it I would almost always find a lovely well-decorated letter from Fabulous or a dark and brooding letter from the non- committal musician boyfriend. Sometimes there would be a package slip, and I would wait in line for a care package full of Scotch Tape and Ho-Hos from Sam’s Club. (Yes, people – Bulk loads of Scotch Tape and Ho-Ho’s; my mom rocks). On occasion Fabulous, or the brooder, or some other friend would send me a – (drum roll) mixed tape.

I would take the mail back to my dorm room, pile it up on the table without opening it. Sometimes I would leave it until after the day’s classes, or take it by myself to the student union to read over lunch – so I could savor the mail, the connection, the time with friends.

During the past decade I endured law school and the partnership track, got married, bore and nursed three children, and tried to become the poster child for the alternative work arrangement. And if you add in there a more-than-healthy dose of family crisis, well you could say I’ve been kind of busy. So that’s my excuse for not actually realizing about all the blogging. I just didn’t know.

That’s how it happens I think. How we become our parents. It’s incremental until one day we just notice that we’re the worried, reminiscent, behind-the-times grown-ups. One day we realize that we don’t know about the hip music, that we aren’t on myspace, that we aren’t podcasting. One day we’re in touch and the next we’re pondering the days when making someone a playlist required time-planning, heavy equipment, and lots of CD’s.

One day we’re rolling our eyes at our parents while we explain that heavy metal music is not for devil worshipers. Then out of nowhere we’re the worried parents … worrying that the emails and the blogging and the itunes will leave nothing for our children to touch, build and savor. Worrying that instead of getting well-decorated letters from the friends they have, our kids will be blogging with ones they’ve not yet met. And I admit it, I know it makes me sound old, but I am really worried about these things.