Mothers and Other Nurturers
Welcome to our third year!

This spring, we did a week-long road trip to Florida and back, to attend a wedding—the groom and his family are close family friends. We planned to drive to allow visits with relatives we rarely have a chance to see. Spending that much time in the car, traveling with my husband and my youngest daughter, and visiting my dad’s cousin, my sister, and my own aunt and cousins, though, (and with the approach of Mother's Day), I found myself thinking about family relationships, especially those between children and their mothers and other nurturers.

First, let me say that mothers and other nurturers come in all shapes, sizes, and affiliations. Sometimes the mother figure in our life is our natural mother, and sometimes it’s an aunt, a grandmother, or even a woman not related to us. This woman is at a certain place in her life—a place that frees her to nurture us, take an interest in us, and generally teach us how to love.

For me, this nurturer was my paternal grandmother. During my childhood, my own mother was battling issues resulting from her mother’s untimely death when Mom was 11, and although I know she loved me, I didn’t have a strong bond with her. My sister, 7 years my junior, was closer to Mom than I was. My grandmother was the one who spent time with me, who was “present” for me.

For Dad’s cousin Joanne (who with her husband Jules hosted us overnight in North Carolina during our trip), my grandmother is the aunt she remembers most fondly. Grandmom had a loving nature that appealed both to Joanne and to me, and Grandmom’s classical piano concerts were an added attraction for Joanne, who also is a pianist.

We met up with Aunt Terry and two of my own “cousins” for dinner during our stay in Miami. I haven’t seen any of them in years, but the memories came flooding back. This family situation is complicated: Mom was only 11 when her mother passed away unexpectedly, so young Shirley was sent from Provincetown, MA, to live with relatives in northern New Jersey. Eventually, her new best friend Louise Lind, and her family, took her in to live with them. Aunt Terry is Louise’s sister. Aunt Louise passed away several years ago. (Are you following this?)

As a kid, I spent every Thanksgiving at Aunt Terry’s—we were Catholic and they were Jewish, so it was pretty much the only holiday we shared. Terry and Louise’s mother, Grandma Lind, would bake wonderful creations and slip me money and trinkets. She and Grandpa Lind also observed my 13th birthday lavishly, although, unlike their Jewish grandchildren, I did not have a bat mitzvah. In fact, until I was a teenager, I thought we were all blood relatives. Still, I named my younger daughter after Sarah Lind, as she was the other grandmother I knew, and she was kind to me. (Our older daughter Amie is named for my paternal granmother, mentioned earlier, and Gary's mother.) Further, Sarah Lind was the mother figure in my mom’s life when her own mother's untimely death left her motherless, and once I understood what had happened, I was grateful to her.

When I signed the wedding card to—Ali and Andrew—the happy couple whose wedding we were in Florida to attend, I hesitated just a second before writing “Aunt Robin and Uncle Gary.” I had been using that intimate closing with Andrew’s younger siblings, but he had been out of the nest for a while, and I couldn’t recall if I’d used it with him. We were especially close to his mother, brother, and sister after his parents were divorced, and I felt they could use as much nurturing as they could get. I hope he’s okay with my decision.

The Issue
So, what does this saga signify? Perhaps that children (and adults!) find nurturers where they can. We all need nurturing, just as we all need to be nurturers whenever and wherever we can be. We align ourselves with those who feed our spirit, who care for us. And as we grow, we also learn to care for ourselves and others. So, the spring issue of Empty Nest remembers mothers and other nurturers of body, mind, and spirit.

Contributor Connie Wesley is back with an empty-nesting travelogue about a charitable mobile health fair in Guatemala. Donna Faria also reconnects with Empty Nest, providing tips on getting one’s body ready for spring and summer activities. New contributor Tammy Jo Meier shares a trip to Italy she arranged for six women that evolved into a real bonding experience (they’ve already had at least one reunion!). Dads can be nurturers, too, and the inclination doesn’t end when their kids leave home—for more, see Making a Difference.

Syndicated columnist Patricia McLaughlin contributes an essay on the availability of stylish clothing for our parents’ generation. Empty Nest Associate Editor Bonnie Boehme contributes an interview with Marian Bellus, an empty nester with an interesting second career—as an American Catholic priest. I also touch on some other nurturing issues: GENERATIONS recounts taking care of Mom after surgery, and They Still Need You explores what may yet be expected of us as parents, even after The Launch.

Each day we sally forth, but nurturing ourselves and others, and receiving that nurturing in return, is what keeps us on a bright path . . .

Enjoy the issue!

Robin C. Bonner
Editor, Empty Nest