A Happy Birthday Thank You, to Ethan and Jesse

“Oh very young
What will you leave us this time?
You’re only dancing on this earth for a short while
And though your dreams may toss and turn you now
They will vanish away like your daddy’s best jeans
Denim blue fading up to the sky.

And though you want them to last forever
You know they never will
You know they never will
And the patches make the goodbye harder still.”

~ Cat Stevens

They arrived on this planet in the early seventies, 1971 and 1973 to be exact. My sons, Ethan and Jesse, both came home from the hospital to the tune of the exact same song played on the radio two years apart: Tin-Tin’s, “Toast and Marmalade for Tea.” That song is now the song we play to celebrate their birthdays. It still makes me cry every time I hear it.

As both of their birthdays are about to be celebrated I’m feeling especially mushy (and old!) now in my reminiscing of that time. On April 17th, Jesse will be 40 years old. And on April 27th, Ethan will be 42! How in the world did that happen!??? They’re both catching up with me.

Born in the L.A. spring it was a joyful time to get to know each other. Everything was sunny and fresh and I would rock and nurse their beautiful little bodies in the sunshine on our deck surrounded by the sharp pungent smell of Eucalyptus trees and the brilliance of begonias and camellias everywhere.

Yet life outside this bucolic setting wasn’t always so sweet. To give you an idea of what the headlines were like back then here’s a quick glimpse of some of the key aspects that pop out at me. I remember the political backdrop of such innocence during those child-rearing times often being in counter-balance to what was going on in the “real” world. For me, the late sixties and seventies were a kaleidoscope of emotional sound and site-bites – so many triggers of pain, pathos and prayers for peace: Kent State and the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty, Southern whites storming a bus to prevent integration, the Chicago 7, the death of Janis Joplin, the first Earth Day celebration, the Pentagon Papers, Watergate, the Native American Movement at Alcatraz, Vietnamization. I was watching the unthinkable on TV – race riots and Vietnam protests. So much horror. Brutality. (Though it seems like Disney compared to what we’re experiencing today.)

All was turmoil yet so much of the music and movies of that era are still considered brilliant classics 2001: A Space Odyssey made it’s phenomenal film debut in the late sixties, followed by The Godfather, Apocalypse Now, The Exorcist, Jaws…

Johnny Carson was the supreme king of the late night format. I still don’t think anybody today even comes close to his class act presence. All in the Family was huge, along with Laverne and Shirley, Happy Days, Sandford & Son, The Muppet Show, Starsky and Hutch, The Waltons…

The movies the boys saw in the latter half of the seventies were Pete’s Dragon, Superman, Willy-Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, Charlottes’ Web, The Muppet Movie, the Little Prince, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Star Wars…

Most of the songs I loved had to do with “Giving Peace a Chance.” The lyrics echoed my beliefs that continue to this day reflecting unity and connection – a world in which one could “Imagine” true togetherness and love, not war. They were sung by Lennon and McCartney, Creedance Clearwater Revival, Barry McGuire, Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, Simon and Garfunkle, Joanie Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Judy Collins, Peter, Paul and Mary, and so many others whose words we sang and danced to in our guitar-strumming “hootenannys.” Other favorites were Cat Stevens (before he became “Yusuf Islam”), the Who, Springsteen, the Beatles, Sonny and Cher, the Doors, the Monkees, Mamas and Papas, Sting and the Police, Carole King, James Taylor, Carly Simon, Marvin Gaye, Rod Stewart, Janis Joplin, Buffy St. Marie, the Eagles, Harry Nilsson, Stevie Wonder, and so many more…

But most of all I was in “Wonder Land” raising two of my best friends in the entire world. I never realized I had that kind of joy in me. Ethan and Jesse tapped into my inner “Peter Pan” and allowed me to be a wild child along with them, as well as a more (not often) patient “Wendy.” I couldn’t ever resist their challenges to “C’mon, let’s go!” Climbing, running, bicycling, racing everywhere. I fell off a ski chair lift, screamed in icy fear peering over gut-wrenching (for me!) heights, followed them into a childhood that beckoned me to finally have FUN! Oh why did they have to grow up???

My hair long and parted down the middle, I wore hot pants and platform shoes that were eventually usurped by Earth shoes, sandals and clunky boots, coordinated with micro-minis-to-maxis, bell bottom jeans, patched jean jackets, tye dyed everything, peasant blouses and flowy skirts, hair combs, camisoles and very large, rose-colored glasses…

Look, I know all wasn’t perfect. But allow me this moment of selective remembering. I’m picking and choosing all the stuff that fed my soul and psyche those oh so many eons ago. And so I continue to remember. Guess you could call it a flashback. Those of us from that era had probably far too many of those. But this is different. This is a look back at what I still remember being a magical time with the boys’ childhood favorites being Sesame Street; the Muppets; GI Joe; Smurfs; Elf Quest; Stretch Armstrong; Batman; Robin; Spiderman; Steve Austin, the Bionic Six Million Dollar Man; Little Rascals and then later on they were all about Star Wars.

I can’t help laughing at remembering the craziness. It was a wild ride of raucous laughter, spinning tire-on-the-tree swings, tromps in the mud after a rain way up in the caves in Los Feliz’s Bronson Canyon Park; capes flying from room to room attached to Super Power Hero costumes (lovingly crafted by Super Woman herself, Aunt Marilyn!) and tons of rehearsals, performances and huge excitement over just about everything – every holiday, peanut butter clay creation, every animal, every bug, booger, Lionel train, etc., etc., etc. A beloved first doggy was named after Buffy St. Marie (my favorite folk singer at that time) and so many other precious well loved dogs, cats, snakes, guinea pigs, birds, etc., followed in that rambling old house at the end of a cul-de-sac in the Hollywood Hills.

I made horridly healthy meals and lunches packed with Brewer’s Yeast shakes, (the nutrition guru at that time was Adelle Davis and I followed her every yeasty suggestion much to my family’s chagrin) sprouts, wheat germ, kefir and carob concoctions (does anyone really like that shit?) only to find out much later that all of my carefully crafted mommy-ministerings ended up being tossed out or traded for bologna and Twinkies, white bread and potato chips.

We had string quartet recitals (E and J on violin, Kent on cello and me on viola.) The boys called me “mother plucker” deservedly… I played terribly but was so thrilled that we were actually performing together, fulfilling a lifelong dream of mine. There were plays, youth symphonies, and movies, endless trips to the L.A. Zoo where I volunteered, evening rituals reading all my favorite classics to the boys as we scrunched together on the couch discovering the worlds of Heidi, Treasure Island, Swiss Family Robinson and more.

We did everything together—from jazz classes (Jesse’s shoe went flying off his foot and nearly missed Ethan’s head), to their eye-rolling tolerance of my constant attempts to calm us all down bringing a Yogi healer into the fray. OMG that was HYSTERICAL. The only thing that the boys got out of that experience, at first trying to process dealing with a woman who looked like a walking mummy all swathed in white turbin and tunic and encouraging them to “breathe into their third eye” was the fact that, “Mom, Ahtma has bad breath!”

And how could I ever forget the time I foolishly brought them to a Nuclear Freeze meeting in which a whole group of us were mapping out a star-studded evening dedicated to peace and love while my two boys quietly crayoned in the corner – an entire sheet of paper filled with guns and ammo and blood and guts and killing. “DON’T SHOW THIS TO ANYONE!” I hissed at them. Lord help me. I tried.

In spite of the madness, I lived in a cocoon of fantasy creating a world I always wished for as a child. The truth is, when Ethan and Jesse made their delicious debuts my world began. There is a great saying that says, “Look back but don’t stare.” And that is true. You really can’t retrieve what is no longer there. It’s just a stare. A blink. Another life.

But what I know for real is that when Ethan and Jesse rocked this world with their presence they transformed me into someone I never even knew. All the stuff I’ve never been able to stand about myself suddenly vaporized into this one roller-coaster ride of motherhood. For the first time in my life I was having the kind of fun and hilarity and exhaustion and infinite rewards I never thought possible.

I loved it so that I wanted to preserve every wonderful, ridiculous, side-splitting, heart-wrenching moment. And I did one of the best things I’ve ever done and have encouraged other parents to do as well, and that is to keep a running journal of their children’s questions, observations, key snippets that you just don’t want to let slip into the ethers of lost-never-found again. So now the boys have a whole box of little black books packed with my brief scribblings of their precious overheard conversations and impromptu antics. The journals have become the source of tremendous entertainment for them today and the next generation as well. And they’ve been able to help my sons realize that a lot of their patterns, behaviors, passions were inherent. Many of the who, what, why of them are woven into their own DNA fabric. They were born being who they are today. They were helped to understand this based on the little journal observations. And another advantage of the writings is that it helped me observe them while still interacting with them. I was able to see that they are indeed separate beings, not extensions of neither Kent nor me. They are who they are and were always so – of course, guided along by a solidly supportive and loving parenting team, which Kent and I were with those boys. I’m very grateful.

I spoke of the next generation just now. The beautiful thing is that Ethan and Jesse are the gifts that keep on giving. I never thought I could love two people any more in all the world. And then Ethan’s and Fa’s son, Kaio, was born and immediately transformed me into a love-sick Nana at one glance into his golden face. He owns me, this little boy, who also owns all who know and love him too. I realize I have to stand in line to even share a portion of his beingness. To say I’m over the moon over Kaio is totally an understatement. The Universe isn’t big enough to express how big my love is for him. And then Jesse married Branda who honored us all with her extraordinary daughter, Autumn. I finally can fuss over a girl in this testosterone-driven world of mine! And what a beautiful young pre-teen wonder she is. I’m crazy about her!!! And when I met and married my dearest Pete years ago I then inherited Adam when he was ten and is now a strapping nearly 23-year-old and has won my heart forever; as well as Pete’s step kids, Rina and Roy, who have beautiful children to celebrate too.

So though I know that looking back and staring into the abyss of what used to be and trying to hold onto the joy of each little boy is ultimately an effort in futility, I now realize that in order to truly embrace life and love I must let it go. The way it was then isn’t the way it’s supposed to be now.

But the truth is Ethan and Jesse really never left. They simply grew up and continue to gift all of us who love them passionately as they experience their own lives, with their own wives and children, experiencing their own visions, perspectives and challenges. Who they were then is who they still are now. They’re just older and yes, wiser. We all continue to laugh and sing and play and explore together whenever we get the chance to regroup. There’s now just more of our clan to experience the fun.

Do I miss those seventies days? With all my heart. But on April 17th and April 27th I’ll do what I always do on their birthdays and that’s buy myself flowers in honor of being blessed by and with them and being given one more year to love them more. And yes, I’ll listen to, “Toast and Marmalade for Tea.” And cry.

Happy Birthday, Jesse and Ethan. Thank you for it all!
I Love You Forever and Beyond,
Momma