Our Kids– The Ones We Have, Plus More

My husband and I may have become, strangely enough, mostly empty-nesters; but darned if children don’t keep popping up all over the place. And sometimes they even come with birds.

I happened upon this sweet sculpture in the Boston Public Garden the other day. Maybe you’ve been charmed by the piece, too. Called “Boy and Bird Fountain,”(even though there wasn’t any water flowing) it’s near the Arlington Street side.

Since I was in town to attend a conference with accomplished as well as would-be authors called “The Muse and the Marketplace,” I was in a writer-ly frame of mind, and might’ve thought that this was a kind of depiction of Ann Lamotte’s book about needing to be patient through the composing process, called Bird by Bird. Maybe, but more likely it was reminding me that each child is an individual, needing sustenance and care and a variety of ways to express innate curiosity. Nature, of course, always provides a good start.

The thing is, though, we keep getting clear messages about how vast the differences are between kids growing up all around us, everywhere. Where and how they begin, what happens in their households and neighborhoods day after day— these things, not surprisingly, determine so very much about how their lives will unfold. And they separate us, too. Robert Putnam’s new book— I’m sure you’ve heard about it by now – is all about this growing divide among the “have” and the “have not” kids.  As a society, it’s as if we’ve almost come to accept it as normal. But when you stop and think that a segment of kids, by the accident of their birth, are receiving a constant cascade of goods and services, which is only becoming more and more voluminous, and another whole segment, also by the accident of their birth, are not—well, then, it just seems really troubling.

Exactly where kids live, it turns out, makes an enormous difference that digs even deeper than we might have expected. In the aftermath of the Baltimore crisis, yesterday’s New York Times featured a front page story called “Change of Address Offers a Pathway Out of Poverty.” Apparently, the whole concept of “upward mobility” almost requires actual mobility: if people can move to certain “better” neighborhoods, their chances of success improve.

The findings suggest that geography does not merely separate rich from poor but also plays a large role in determining which poor children achieve the so-called American dream.

This is not surprising, really; but it sure is disturbing, considering how many families are stuck in places where, due to a combination of factors, good opportunities don’t exactly rush up to present themselves as people are walking down the street.

Tomorrow evening, I’m attending a dinner with other mentors from the “Circle Program” here in New Hampshire. The governor, Maggie Hassan, will be the guest speaker. I’m proud to be part of this organization, because it’s trying to make at least a dent in the situation: many girls (and of course boys, too) are growing up in households, in neighborhoods, which simply can’t provide a whole lot else besides basic survival. These girls need reinforcements from outside, chances to learn some new things and build their skills and confidence.

And, not surprisingly, we mentors win big also. I remember, on a cold and windy March day, racking my brain for ideas about where to bring “my girl” for something fun to do. I didn’t want to drive far, so eventually I chose a local art studio where we (her brother came too, as he usually does) could do simple projects for a couple of hours. Did we ever have fun when we arrived at a simple brick building across town, a former school, to play with colors! We went wild. There was excitement, too, upon departure: the wind tried to blow away most of our masterpieces as soon as we walked out the door. But the kids went running after them, laughing so hard.

I sure felt lucky on that day and, really, on every day that we get to do stuff together.

Next week, I’ll go to a program called “New Hampshire’s Kids, the American Dream, and the Growing Opportunity Gap.” I don’t expect there will be any answers provided there, but at least we’ll get to talk about some of the realities of ongoing divisions, even in this mostly rural state. Furthermore, I know that my husband, in his role as Episcopal bishop, is also working hard to illuminate and to address these issues.  It sure is nice sometimes when, even without my accompanying him to church, we have a kind of synchronizing swimming going on.

There’s no denying it: the transition from having your offspring running up and down stairs and sitting at table to hearing about their daily lives, and sometimes adventures, on the phone is just plain weird. Especially, in my case, when I’m also adjusting to being in a new town. Thank goodness there are plenty of other kids around…and most of them aren’t in fountains, either.