Dave dropped this in my lap this morning: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB121695015234783463.html?mod=2_1578_topbox
knowing it would get my blood boiling.
To me, the kernel of truth is this quote: “I do it to detach.”
hmmmmm?
Yesterday, I was recalling a friend of mine (who ended up dying of a brain tumor in his 30’s) that a few years before he died he fell in love with a little three-year old boy named Til. My friend was a gay man who never planned to have children, but his best (girl) friend had a little boy he adored. Well, this friend, Andreas, took to collecting little treats (toys and penny candy and such) to carry around in his pockets, so when he saw Til he’d have a treasure to pull out of his pocket – presto! Now, I tell you this story because I am thinking of “Iron Mom” … whose pockets were stuffed with notes from her mother … yet, YET, she didn’t even think of what her own daughter needed/wanted/deserved from her. IRON mom, indeed. I do it to detach.
thoughts?
