Air Traffic Controller, Part 2

I refer to my mother’s role managing four children in the mid-1950s as an air traffic controller. (See: Air Traffic Controller Part I.) In some circles it was even bad form for a mother to try to raise a child and work outside the home at the same time. Even twenty-five years later, when it was expected that women would pursue careers, mother was usually still the air traffic controller. My father, along with the vast majority of husbands, saw his role as bringing home the bacon. In this he felt strongly—even self-righteous. His wife should and must focus on making a home for the whole family including, but by no means limited to, the children.

He wanted his dinner on the table, and he wanted it simple and elegant. He wanted the house clean and tidy with “a place for everything and everything in its place.” Similarly, he wanted his children properly placed and fitted out. Just as each thing had its appropriate slot or box, each child needed to be in its appropriate slot. My older brother was slotted to be a lawyer like his Dad—taking over in the law firm—my younger sister was, with her amazing brain, slotted to sit at the right hand of her father, the genius, so that they could amuse each other on into his dotage, and so on. Making sure my father’s world turned out like this was one of the responsibilities of my mother, the air traffic controller.

Wanting to lead her own life (she did go to college, after all), and feeling the burden of taking responsibility for five other lives as well, it was a relief when any one of us could take care of ourselves. My mother, therefore, wanted to increase the number of things I could do for myself. From feeding myself (a big step forward), through doing my homework on my own, to getting into college, the more I was taking responsibility, the more time she had for others and herself. I remember one dramatic moment in the hallway outside her bedroom, when I said, “Mom …” and got the annoyed response, “Can’t I even go to the bathroom?!” “Of course,” I said, “You could have just told me.” (And I wondered why it wasn’t just that simple.)