Problem solving is all a matter of perspective, especially if you’re a mother

My mother had a system for dealing with perplexing problems.

When it was a small puzzle or distraction, not worth fretting over, she’d sail right by it with an airy, ”We won’t pin a worry on it.” No worry. No talk. Problem over.

If the situation was too much of a mess to even attempt to deal with, she’d say, “Let’s just draw a curtain of pity over the whole thing.” Once the Curtain of Pity was drawn, we could tiptoe away and never have to deal with it again.

However, if someone really displeased Mom, she’d say, “Oh, flush him down the toilet,” with the disdain that could only be expressed by a girl who had spent the first 25 years of her life without indoor plumbing. If this dreaded phrase was uttered, that person was automatically out of our lives, never again to be taken fresh hot rolls or invited to occupy the extra chair at festive dinners.

This may seem extreme and I haven’t got time to explain it right now. But I will observe that our family came from the same little town in the South of Italy at the same time Russell Shorto describes in “Smalltime: A Story of My Family and the Mob.”

In the spring of 1953, I was 19 years old and fast heading down the stretch toward my 20th birthday, still unmarried and without prospects. In my mind, I was practically wrapped in the Curtain of Pity and really worried about what was coming next.

It may seem ridiculous in today’s world, but in 1953, at the advanced age of 19, according to Department of Commerce statistics, 57% of women were married.

“Don’t worry, Dorothy – you’ll find somebody,” said my best friend, married a whole year ago at age 18. She said it as if that somebody was pretty likely to be found under an overturned stone. And I was not even offended. Once you turned 20 – well, what was there to hope for?

Within three years, I had two kids and was exhausted all the time. My dreams had come true. I spent Mothers Day in 1957 lying on the floor in our Quarters at the Presidio of San Francisco as the children marched up and down on my back to the strains of marshal music. West Point Story played on our fuzzy black and white TV. Except for reaching up occasionally to adjust the strip of aluminum foil that made the reception better, I never stirred.

Of course there were no disposable diapers in those days and the diaper pail full of redolent objects still follows me in my dreams. No curtain of pity big enough for them. This was not as much fun as I expected.

We were members of the Silent Generation, not because we didn’t talk, but because we followed the rules. We didn’t demonstrate. We didn’t protest. Some sources say we were also the only generation for whom the American Dream came true. We were more successful than our parents, and our kids did better than we did. Times change. The grandchildren will be lucky to own a house.

Mother’s Day again in changing times. Amy, my upstairs neighbor, has two boys, a teenager, and a 7-month-old. Although the boys are separated by 16 years in age, they always seem happy. Advice? “Always be the house all the kids can come to,” she said.

Father Dave Rogerson observes that just as we sometimes try to keep the spirit of Christmas, giving and loving, alive all year long, It might also be good in these frightening times to keep and grow the spirit of Easter renewal all year long — to become “Easter People.”

I am wearing a blue and yellow bracelet, a reminder of the valiant people of Ukraine. It’s no trouble at all. Maybe it’s important to go to some trouble. To do something more. I remember how tired I was raising the small children. It was worth the trouble.

My Mother and my Grandson went for a horseback ride once. Daniel was 4 and they were using stick horses that had belonged to his dad. They had a fine time as they trotted along. Soon the little boy slowed.

“I’m tired! Carry me, Grammy,” he begged.

“Oh, no, you just think you’re tired,” my Mom replied. “It’s your horse, he’s tired. Take mine. It’s fresher.”

She turned her stick horse over to the little boy and accepted his, and they cantered happily home. Sometimes all it takes is a different point of view — and we won’t pin a worry on that.

Where to find Dorothy in May

• 9 a.m. May 2 and 16: Zoom Coffee Chat (and Change the World), a fast hour of guests, resources, ideas and fun.
• 2 p.m. May 5: The Zoom Book Doctors, with guest experts who will tell you how to bring your book from idea to launch. Special guest Frank Flores on screenwriting.

Register for both events at Dorothy@itsnevertoolate.com.

Catch Dorothy’s podcast, Swimming Upstream Radio Show, at https://itsnevertoolate.com.

Contact Dorothy at PO Box 881, DuPont, WA 98327; 800-548-9264 or Dorothy@itsnevertoolate.com.

This story was originally published May 1, 2022 at 5:00 AM.