My mother was often street smart- and often not smart enough- and had
imperial tastes as well as saving string having come through the Great
Depression. She was at a loss with a formally educated daughter and
how to deal with older suitors that started showing up as well as the
intricate cruelty of social cliques. Her physical and psychological
health started to fall apart in her late-40's. She simply gave up on
her parental duties. She knew I no longer cared for my finance but was
heartless- once the Crane invitations were paid for that was to be my
fate. On the one hand maybe she felt that by marrying me to an
ordinary Catholic, I would avoid her battles and live a simple life
but on the other hand she had stolen my inheritance and may have
nursed a sub-conscious grudge against me for having an easier life
than she had had. She could be generous and she could be brutal.
Finally I was told to study a lovely portrait of my mother and me when
I was about 4 years old and I began to understand her and gain some
empathy and love. She did the best she was able to do.//My daughter
came home over Christmas and took back many of my things- jewelry,
evening bags, opera gloves, etc,- perhaps thinking I would never need
or use them again. I probably wouldn't- I already had used them. But
it was a stark reminder of the cutting points between generations. It
also occurs between fathers and sons.
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