Subterranean Anger

Subterranean Anger

“I’m nice, but a little bit mean today,” my granddaughter said. In her own way, she was saying that she felt angry.  Laney is two-and-a-half.

Laney with kitty face“It’s okay to feel mad,” I said, stroking her bangs to one side. I reminded her that I felt mad at our dog for not coming when called.  “It’s just not okay to be mean,” I explained, “but you can be mad.” I wondered if she could understand the distinction.

Many years ago, when I was young, I decided to be the good child. Maybe I saw certain advantages in it. My sister had a bolder personality and got in trouble some.

I was a quieter soul, an observer.

I remember being given a small necklace. It had a white marble pendant with a gold band around its center. In fine script, The Golden Rule was engraved on the band. The simple ethical code made a profound impression on me.

Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you.

My family in 1962

My family in 1962

In some ways, trying to be good was connected to a deep love for my father. My dad was and is a safe, wise, and approachable man, and I was quite sure that he’d love me no matter what. Still, being compliant is often about winning approval.

I tried to do everything “right,” but I wasn’t perfect. I had a bit of gumption and remember getting spanked.

You, got spanked?” My husband goaded. “What for?Continue reading