Life lessons big and small



35 is a lot less scary because I know I have people like you three in the boat with me.

You are by turns competent, elegant, sentimental, loving, hilarious, and honest. You keep me laughing and remind me, when the melancholy pulls too hard, of the great good that there is in life.

We have learned together how to be mothers. I love your children absolutely and know you would take care of mine no matter what. I am looking forward to talking to each of you every single day of the next 35 years.

A few things I have learned in the school of C, E, and H:

  • how to mix a Southside
  • what a “go cup” is (and the importance of one)
  • how to roast a chicken
  • how to pee in a parking lot
  • the value of taking children’s animals away as a discipline technique
  • that a bra helps me out more than my old tank tops
  • how to make turkey tetrazzini
  • that acting happy can make you feel happy
  • that a snack solves most problems
  • to wear sunscreen and big straw hats
  • that it’s possible to drive from New York to Brookline in 3 hours
  • how I want my house to look
  • that I will never be good at card games
  • that sometimes I don’t need to worry so much
  • about the Bergdorf’s shoe sale
  • that sometimes the bathroom is just too far away
  • that my children really are terrible eaters
  • that Whitesnake blaring from a minivan makes total sense
  • that sometimes you just show up, no matter what
  • that balloons make a party
  • that baptism, not confirmation, is the Episcopalian church access pass to communion
  • that zinnias can be both cheerful and sophisticated
  • what true style is
  • that I am not crazy, and that I will never be alone

Thank you for being the people who make my life sparkly. I love you.

Kindred

J, J, and A,

You are my kindred. I don’t have any other relationships like these: we don’t in fact know each others’ lives that well, we don’t know each others’ families that well, yet we just understand each other in a way that is, to me, unique and wonderful.

We have much more in common than we don’t. We are educated, we are curious, we are thoughtful, we are probably more than a touch neurotic. We are all accustomed to being in charge and in control; I feel a perceptible relaxation in myself, and sense it in each of you, when we sit down, order a glass of wine, and just let out a deep breath. Each time I see you I leave both comforted and inspired. You are three of the most capable, accomplished, intelligent, loving women I know. And you are, as far as I can tell, utterly unaware of your brilliance, which is part of the wonder of each of you.

In truth, I was intimidated when I met you, in turn, two in 1996 (A, I will never forget that very first interview at college – thank God you decided to pass me onto the second round) and one in 2001. I was awestruck, all three times, by similar things: you each seemed to me to be breathlessly competent, confident, breezing through life with ease, leaving a trail of admirers in your wake.

I was lucky enough to share my first pregnancy with you, A (that summer of daily milkshakes), and my second with you, J. Oh what sage counselors you both were, on life with a newborn and then on the sheer terror of life with more than one!

Each time I see you I learn something. We are unmistakably in the thick of Real Life, all of us, and we share a similar perspective on what contributes to identity and to a fully-lived life. A perspective that I have found very rarely in others; this makes each of you more important to me than you probably realize. We can talk about subjects ranging from silly to serious, from flip to fraught. I never tire of your stories and appreciate that each of you has both tremendous wisdom and great humor. I want you each to know that I admire you, I honor the grace with which you meet the challenges that I know about and those I don’t, and I am genuinely grateful for your friendship.

Now, more sangria!

Please pray

Please pray for a friend’s four year old with a kidney tumor. I believe in the power of this, so please send your healing thoughts.

Anna & Twilight

Fighting off a cold today.

Have started Twilight on Anna’s recommendation. Oh Anna, thank you thank you! My lifetime self-assessment partner: thank God for you. I feel a bit like the person who started reading Harry Potter I when VI came out, but there you go. Am on page 18 and as promised it is a quick read indeed.

I said: what do I read when Vogue feels like The Economist – too many dense articles? She said: Twilight is for you. Anna’s reading list is varied and fascinating (she is also 100% kindle now … hmmm) and she is one of the few people whose recommendations I take instantly to heart.

Somewhere I feel I never went

As I ran past HBS this morning I was struck by the familiar feeling that I simply never went there. I really honestly can barely remember anything of those two years. The photo above seems to prove that I did graduate, but if not for the photographic evidence of 2 years and the handful of friends I met there, I might believe it didn’t actually happen.
I never felt at home at HBS, never felt quite like I fit. Perhaps this ought to have been my first clue that the Business World was not for me! I also can think of almost nothing that I actually learned there. I wonder if this is because I spent 90% of my in-class time doing the Times crossword or (more often) reading the cases for the next day’s classes. This is the most salient example I can think of NOT Being Here Now. My God. I was so focused on getting done with the next day’s work that I never heard a damned thing in today’s class. Anna seemed to have the same strategy, and she and I had many free nights with nothing to do since we were done with our homework. Anna, however, seems to have emerged from HBS with a few skills and things learned, so I am forced to conclude this is another data point supporting the fact that I really am an idiot.
I guess that is one thing that HBS gave me: Anna. We were friendly at Princeton but didn’t get close until HBS. While I am a mental midget compared to Anna, she’s the friend who most understands the intellectual and mental restlessness I feel, who knows the angst of having a big gaping hole where “life’s professional passion” should be. She too has lots of interests, none of them compelling. She consumes life at breakneck speed, searching, always, as I am, for an animating interest, for an internal compass. For me to have a friend with whom I can share the many challenges and joys of this way of living is an enormous gift.
Since we’ve both become mothers, our relationship has deepened. Anna is one of my favorite mother friends – she is funny and pragmatic, charmed and unsentimental, and always incisively observant when talking about Zachary and Ava. She shares my awareness of how frustration and awe coexist in every minute of mothering.
So, while I really can’t read an income statement, don’t understand a lick about macroeconomics, and still struggle to remember the five forces, I guess HBS was worth it if I found Anna there!