.SOMETIMES RAW.

This article is dedicated to my son Joel. Even though he drives me nuts sometimes, I have to admit that overall he is a very cute, smart, sweet kid. He will be eleven years old this year and leaving elementary school with flying colours to join Gymnasium here in Austria. Today, he came home and showed his math test with zero mistakes and a straight A (1 here in Austria). Be still my heart.

Sometimes I worry about losing the connection with my funny, vulnerable little boy as he gets older, and, when I mentioned this to a friend the other day, she replied: “It will be just the way it is now, only he’ll be a sweet-hearted young man, and you will feel very short.” Here, I share completely subjective rules for raising a pre-teenage boy…

I hadn’t realized that raising a pre-teenaged boy would involve all the tenderness of a violin spilling out a persistent heartbreaking melody in the background — and also, of course, all the crash-banging of a drum set. But it’s both things all the time. And, come to think of it and according to a good friend of mine, that’s true of raising a pre-teenage girl, too, a scenario to which most of these rules also apply. The main rule, which you already know, is to love these big kids fiercely and excessively.

1. Teach them to respect women. Not in the pretty-object-on-a-pedestal way of things and art; in the way of real, human equals with a right to their self-determination, intelligence and space on the subway.

2. Enjoy the same funny conversations you’ve always had, especially while walking in the woods or cuddling on the couch. “How many pieces of Kinderriegel do you think you could eat?” he might ask, and then look aghast when you say ten. “What? Twenty at least.”

3. Love them for sleeping late. The only other option is to not love them for sleeping late, since sleeping late is itself a given. They’re creating many inches of new human flesh a day, and it’s exhausting! (Remember pregnancy?) When they stagger out at 2 p.m. with their man-sized arms and legs and their sleep-creased baby faces, you can just say, “Did you have a good sleep, my love?” instead of “Good AFTERNOON,” like all of our own passive-aggressive parents did. And you might be treated to a languid smile, a comfortable stretch, and the simple pleasure of the words, “I did.”

4. Be kind to your child, even if it seems like he doesn’t notice or care. He does. Treat him to doughnuts, to barbecue, to a big smile, a cup of hot chocolate, the benefit of the doubt. When he lies down in your bed to be near you and the cats, you can go ahead and keep reading your book — the cats are purring enough for all of you — but it’s okay to brim with joy.

5. Prepare for cranky questions to emanate from the open fridge: “Is the ham all gone?” “Wasn’t there leftover steak?” Answer with your sunny good nature. “It is!” “You ate it!” Remind your son that he is welcome to restock the fridge.

6. Enjoy the beautiful, gentle, funny boy who says things like, “Herro,” to make you laugh after you muse aloud that work today was killing you. 

7. Be trustworthy. Be respectful. If he turns to you with something bad or hard, the first message should be, “I’m so glad you told me.” The second message should be, “How can I help?”

8. Assuming you actually want your son to join you, whatever it is you’re doing, the answer to the question, “Is it okay if my friends come with us?” is always yes. Also, because you will remember when he was too shy to invite people over.

9. Relatedly, keep around plenty of games and books to give the kids lots of fun things to fill their time with besides the kinds of fun things that you might be less excited about.

10. For everybody’s sake, knock before entering. In fact, maybe even, like, bang a gong outside the door before you get near enough to knock.

11. Take a picture of the heap of gigantic shoes by your front door because one day they will not be there and you will want to tearfully reminisce.

12. Teach him the important life skills: How to send a thank-you note. How to listen and ask questions. How to walk into a kitchen and say, “Put me to work.” How to call their representatives about an important issue. How to clean a bathroom, do a load of laundry, scramble an egg. How to sit patiently on the sofa between their two grandparents with their two new iPhones, nodding slowly and saying, “Here, let me show you,” when the grandparents are convinced the Google has gone missing.

13. Substance-wise, consider moderation over prohibition. That said, if you make one rule, let it be this: “Don’t ever try meth, crack cocaine, or heroin. Ever, ever, ever.” Explain the way these drugs permanently mess up your dopamine receptors (if you need to learn about that first yourself, do).

14. Pick your battles. Personal style is a pretty low-stakes form of self-actualization; if the way they wear their hair or jeans (hello, bum crack!) is not your very favorite, complain about it to a friend.

15. Pretend you’re just tying your shoe so they won’t notice you leaning in to sniff the still-intoxicating smell of their scalp.

16. Lying in bed at night, scanning around to check for various dangers and unhappinesses, you will mentally find your son safe in his bed, in his room, in your house. And you will remember to be so, so grateful. Because one day you will buy him a memory foam mattress topper and a set of twin XL sheets and, poof, he will leave behind a heartbreaking boy-shaped hole.

17. Wherever they go, physically or emotionally, understand that they’ll come back to you. And when they do, go ahead and fling your mama arms — your mama heart! — wide open. Wide, wide open.

What would you add?

It’s about time I finally cracked this charming little book open. I’ve had it sitting on my bookshelf for a while. The book is a tribute to bookstores, book lovers, and England. This epistolary novel delivered exactly what I expected it to! If it hadn’t already confirmed what I suspected, namely that I’m not the only soul in the world with a book-reading and book-collecting obsession, then Helene Hanff’s experience would have offered the proof I needed.  

What the book is about:

The book consists of the correspondence, from the late 1940s until the late 1960s, between New York writer and bibliophile Helene Hanff and Frank Doel, an employee at Marks & Co. Booksellers at the eponymous address in London. 

Hanff was a voracious, eclectic reader who couldn’t find good American editions of the books she wanted to read. Responding to an advertisement in a periodical, she wrote to Marks & Co., and began her two decades-long epistolary relationship with Doel.

Her chatty, witty and often teasing letters requesting books and Frank’s more conservative, straightlaced missives form the backbone of the work. As their long-distance, customer-bookseller relationship evolves, Hanff occasionally writes to other store employees, as well as Doel’s wife, the couple’s daughters and the family’s elderly neighbour. 

What gradually emerges is a gentle and moving look at two kindred spirits united by their love of the printed word. Hanff’s descriptions of the physical books are so vivid you can practically smell and feel the sturdy covers and the thick, creamy pages. The book also touches on their differing cultures, Hanff’s writing characterized by frank forthrightness, Doel’s, although no less friendly, by a certain civility and politeness.

Their correspondence isn’t just about books, although there are some amusing, illuminating passages about Chaucer, Samuel Pepys, Jane Austen, John Donne and Laurence Sterne. Early on, Hanff also sends care packages of food and stockings to the bookstore, much-needed in a time of post-World War II rationing.

Furthermore, there are subtle glimpses into history and the changing nature of society: bookstore employees emigrate to other countries to try their luck; the Doels save up money to buy their first used car; Queen Elizabeth II is crowned; Beatlemania descends on London.

But what I love most of all is the portrait that emerges of Hanff herself. A strong and independent single woman who would rather send cash in the mail than fuss with getting a money order, she starts out living in a tiny, cramped apartment and works her way up the publishing and radio drama world, drawing on much of her reading of literature (thanks to the packages from 84, Charing Cross Road) to create her plays. 

What I also admire is how uncluttered this book is. There were other letters, but Hanff trusts the reader to do the work to connect the dots. By reading a “reply” we can intuit what’s being replied to. There are no baggy, self-important, italicized passages about what’s in the letters themselves. And the graceful ending is stunning in its understatement. I’m pleased to finally say I can move this book from the nightstand to the “keepers” shelf. I’m just a bit sorry that it ended all too soon. I could have kept reading about Helene and Frank for days yet. This little gem also serves as a reminder to not put off until tomorrow what you’d love to do today. Time is shorter than we imagine, and the people we wish to meet and the places we yearn to visit are waiting for us. The time is now!

One last thought: Likely, you won’t be surprised to learn that secondhand bookstores are one of my most treasured places on earth to visit or even to have my own just like Marks & Co. one day. Used books are amazing. I love thinking about all the other readers who have previously held these books in their hands. Did they like the book but not well enough to keep it at home on that favorite shelf? Did the person pass away years before and not have a book-loving friend or relative to hand the books down to? Or maybe this fellow bookworm simply ran out of space or packed up, moved, and decided to share a beloved book with some stranger in the future that will connect by some invisible thread. 

The movie is also on YouTube starring Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins. Superb!

*which is a gas planet. Ur-anus, gas planet! Get it? Funny!

The other day I was out for a walk in the evening and saw this little tiny blue alien sitting close to the freshly plowed field. “What the hell,” I thought. The little creature cried and explained, “I am from planet Uranus. I am so sad because I didn’t get the promotion I applied for and now I have to stay at this portal here on Earth and work from here!” “Oh no, I said, this is so sad. Can you explain how your boss made this decision about who gets promoted? Go on, explain what you did wrong!” The tiny blue alien continued and said, “So management on spaceship Urania says that, …..

I don’t smile enough.

I smile too much.

I don’t kiss ass.

I am abrasive. For example, that time when I asked for a promotion. It was awkward and I made everyone on the management team uncomfortable.

I don’t speak up.

I never shut up and ask too many questions.

I am sloppy. Like when I sent that space email with one typo. Alien boss said I needed to proofread my work.

I am too focused on details.

I don’t focus enough on details.

The alien boss needed to promote females even though I was qualified and exactly who they needed for the position.

I am not experienced enough. Oh, wait, I am 4000 years old! Well, I look young. Maybe if I was more mature, like if I was married or had at least two kids (why don’t you have more kids, by the way? Alien boss is a little curious), then they could envision me as being a supervisor on sector 1 at Uranus.

I do have kids! And am a single parent for crying out loud! Well, the management is concerned about my ability to balance everything, and I look tired all the time, ask for days off because my alien children are sick, and I feel guilty asking the boss to leave, so they just promote someone who does not have kids but has red lipstick, claw polish, hosts the best Friday-after-work-parties inviting everyone even from Mars, who’s a great female alien and “simple and easy” to talk to.

I am too argumentative. For example, right now I am upset that I didn’t get a promotion, and I am asking for concrete examples of what I can do better. Alien management doesn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty. I should just trust my judgment and wait for the next promotion round when “my time comes”.

I am a pushover. When X7R2 came back 15 minutes late from his break (a recurring problem) I should have just told him to be on time instead of telling management that I thought it was inappropriate. Leaders handle their own problems, my alien boss told me.

I am not a team player. If I would just wait a few thousand years, there would be some great opportunities here for me. They need me in my current role right now.

I am not good at promoting myself. What do they even want? I f***ing DESIGNED and BUILT this spaceship myself dammit! It is over there in the field by the way. Still fully functioning because I knoooooow how to start AND land on different planets.

Then he fell silent and cried a bit. When aliens from Uranus cry, tiny stars appear at the corner of their eyes. I hugged him and said, “Look, at least you are on ‘the rooster already for upcoming promotions’. Maybe your time will come. Just wait and keep applying and if you won’t get the promotion that is fine too. Just be true to yourself so you can always look in your space mirror!”