Let's start with the Bad. Our Spring in the Balkans last year (see July 24th, below) introduced me to Rebecca West; I had never before read her. I found Black Lamb, Grey Dove mesmerizing: what wonderful writing and engaging story-telling. What a critical, discerning and prescient eye for the lives around her as she traveled Bosnia, Serbia and Croatia in 1938 and '39.
I had become an acolyte. Until yesterday -- when came in the NY Review of Books Mother's Day reprints, Anthony West's diatribe against her, his mother, Rebecca West, of whom he documented a life-long crusade to destroy his career, his marriage and his reputation. Goodness! What a mother/son relationship! She must have been a tumultuous personality, indeed -- Nieztschean feminist; mistress to H G Wells and and, according to her son (H G Wells' bastard),the Journalist, John Gunther. Rebecca it turns out was vengeful, volatile and manipulative despite being a gifted journalist, critic, and novelist whose last book was published at age 89. I'm still a fan of her writing, but . . . .What trauma Anthony West dealt with!
Mothers leave legacies; what did mine leave? The Good. Eleanor Taylor would have disdained a Rebecca West-type as a self-centered shrew. Eleanor Taylor was anything but.
Eleanor Taylor Waller was forever in love with Fletcher C. Waller. He passed on at age 72 in 1983; she, 28 years later at age 98, in 2011. Her purpose was to make him -- and the rest of us -- whole. She was the rock our family is built upon.
Fletch: struggling to support a family during the '30s; all in, answering the call to public service during WWII and the early Cold War; corporate maverick in the later '50s and '60s; adult drop-out and scrambling entrepreneur in the '70's.
They ventured together: Door County Sailing, then Beaver Flags. She was his sea anchor -- and our
foundation.
Eleanor Waller personifies loyalty, tolerance, patience, strength, compassion, self-reliance (especially after Dad died,) and humor. She is my Mom -- still.
And the Ugly? There are no ugly mothers.
Mothers leave legacies; what did mine leave? The Good. Eleanor Taylor would have disdained a Rebecca West-type as a self-centered shrew. Eleanor Taylor was anything but.
Eleanor Taylor Waller was forever in love with Fletcher C. Waller. He passed on at age 72 in 1983; she, 28 years later at age 98, in 2011. Her purpose was to make him -- and the rest of us -- whole. She was the rock our family is built upon.
Fletch: struggling to support a family during the '30s; all in, answering the call to public service during WWII and the early Cold War; corporate maverick in the later '50s and '60s; adult drop-out and scrambling entrepreneur in the '70's.
Eleanor made it work, supporting him though frustrations, sharing the pressures, encouraging him to dream. As a kid, I was jealous, classically Oedipal.
They ventured together: Door County Sailing, then Beaver Flags. She was his sea anchor -- and our
foundation.
Eleanor Waller personifies loyalty, tolerance, patience, strength, compassion, self-reliance (especially after Dad died,) and humor. She is my Mom -- still.
And the Ugly? There are no ugly mothers.
Wonderful. Thank you for the journey.
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