An Interview About China’s One-Child Policy (独生子女政策): A Mother, a Daughter, and Little Choice. A Conversation with Simeng Dai

interview about China's one-child policy 2

Chinese/English Transcription and Translation of Simeng Dai's interview about China's one-child policy with her mother

噢!妈妈 / Oh!Mama 

First episode. 

标题: 我妈妈的四次怀孕和三次生育

Title: My mother’s four pregnancies and three deliveries/children.

本期节目欢迎大家和父母长辈一起收听。

We recommend you listen to this program with your parents and elders.

大家好,我是S。欢迎收听 噢!妈妈 的第一期节目。

我出生在浙江温州一个普通的农村家庭,我妈在1990年至1996年期间生了3个小孩。我是中间的女儿,有一个姐姐和弟弟。我在出生后不久就被寄养在别人家里。过去的几年,我一直在试图自我消化这段经历,为了拼凑出更完整的前因后果,了解那段历史,我鼓起勇气采访了我妈。请她讲述了她在计划生育高压政策和农村重男轻女的落后文化之间挣扎的生育故事。

Hi everyone, my name is S. Welcome to the first episode of Oh!Mama.

I was born in an ordinary rural family in Wenzhou, Zhejiang. My mother gave birth to 3 children between 1990 and 1996. I am the middle daughter, I have a sister and a younger brother. I was fostered in someone else’s house soon after I was born. In the past few years, I have been trying to digest this experience myself. In order to piece together a more complete cause and effect and understand that period of history, I plucked up the courage to interview my mother. Asked her to tell her story of struggling between the repressive policy of family planning and the backward culture of patriarchy in rural areas.

尽管2015年已经出台了二胎政策,国家现在也正在鼓励生育,但计划生育对我们这几代人的影响不会轻易被抹去。我妈妈的经历只是万千妇女的经历中的其中一个。我希望能够通过这期节目抛砖引玉,采访到更多的母亲们,记录下属于他们的生育故事。

Although the two-child policy was introduced in 2015 and the country is now encouraging births, the impact of family planning on our generations will not be easily erased. My mother’s experience is just one of the experiences of thousands of women. I hope that through this program, I will be able to use this program to give insights, interview more mothers, and record their birth stories.

因为我妈妈并没有被采访的经验,为了让我妈能尽量放松,我们的对话是用方言和普通话穿插进行的。在方言部分我会进行翻译。

Because my mother has no experience of being interviewed, in order to let my mother relax as much as possible, our conversations were interspersed in dialect and Mandarin. I will translate the dialect part.

在录制场地方面,这次的录制是在床上进行的,所以会出现一些杂音。

同时因为这个话题的敏感性,在涉及人名和地名的地方,我都做了相应的处理,请大家多多包涵。

In terms of the recording venue, this time the recording was performed on the bed, so there will be some noise.

At the same time, because of the sensitivity of this topic, I have dealt with the names of people and places accordingly. Please bear with me.

— Start of the interview– 

S:妈妈,我做这个项目,我刚刚跟你解释的,我没有说要怪你怪爸爸或者任何人的意思。我就是单纯地想要了解一下,你在1990年到1995年期间生孩子的一些过程。因为我以前从来没有问过你,我自己也很好奇。然后我觉得全中国可能也没有多少,你这个年纪的人在说自己经历的那些事情。所以我觉得是一个很有意义的事情。

S: Mom, like I just explained to you. Doing this project, I didn’t mean to blame you or Dad or anyone. I just want to understand the process of giving birth between 1990 and 1995. Because I have never asked you before, and I am very curious myself. Then I think there may not be many people your age are talking about the things they have experienced. So I think it is a very meaningful project.

M:这个是这样的啊,我们1990年的时候。我虚岁22岁。那个时候呢,我们年纪轻嘛,就是不懂事,反正也是跟社会潮流走嘛。别人那个时候二十来岁就可以嫁人结婚了呢,我们也就结婚了嘛,当时生了一个女儿,那时候我们家里也没有钱,很穷的,没有什么财产之类的。确实是很苦。我们都是靠自己努力打拼。赚钱自己糊口养家。

M: Here’s how things were. I was almost 22 years old in 1990. At that time, we were young and we were ignorant. We were just following the trend of society. When others were in their twenties, they could marry and get married, so we got married. We gave birth to a daughter. At that time, our family had no money and was very poor. There was no real property. Life wea very hard. We all work hard on our own. Make money and to support ourselves.

怀孕的时候呢,反正我可能是年纪青,体力好。都站了一天,晚上10点钟加班加点,我都要把事情做好,那个时候做事情也很认真。生完孩子后才五十多天马上就起来继续工作,小孩子自己带。还有我妹妹都过来一起,两个妹妹过来一起帮忙,一边做生意,一边带带小孩。自己一边做事,一边带小孩,自力更生艰苦奋斗。

When I was pregnant, I was young and strong. Even if I had been standing all day, working overtime at 10 o’clock in the evening, I still had to do things well. Only more than fifty days after giving birth, I got up and continued to work immediately, and took care of the kid at the same time. And my two younger sisters came to help, doing business and bringing the children together.While doing things by myself, while taking care of children, just be self-reliant and work hard.

S:那你生第一个小孩的时候,那个时候可以做性别检查吗?

S: When you gave birth to your first child, could you have a gender check at that time?

M:有。这个是也是靠人际关系的,但是我是没有去。

M:You could. This is also dependent on interpersonal relationships, but I did not go.

S:所以你第一个生出来就不知道是男的女的。

S:So you didn’t know the gender of your first born before giving birth.

M:对。

M:I didn’t know.

S:那生出来第一个是女的之后有人有说什么吗?

S: Did anyone say anything after the first daughter was born?

M:我们这个年纪是不怎么计较。婆婆那一辈,他们是肯定是很重男轻女的。她说生了女儿,一定要生个儿子。她说再多的钱放在家里别人也看不到。她说没有儿子啊,是因为你这辈子做人做的不好。怎么会没有儿子?反正他们老人家是这样子想的。

后来继续生了第二个女儿。那我们那里的政策是这样的,第一胎是女儿后,要隔5年之后,白生第二胎。这样真的是不用罚款。如果第一个是儿子,绝对是不能再生的了。

M:We didn’t care that much. But the mother-in-law generation, they were . She said that if you gave birth to a daughter, then you must also have a son. She said that no matter how much money is kept at home, no one can see it. She said that if one doesn’t have a son, it must because you didn’t do well in your life. How could there be no son? Anyway, older people think this way. 

Later I continued to give birth to a second daughter. Then the one-child policy worked like this, if the first child was a daughter, after 5 years, the second child could be born without paying a fine. But if the first one was a son, then one can never give birth anymore.

S:第二个生出来是女儿,然后是在哪里生的呢?

S: The second daughter was born, and where did you give birth to her?

M:91年我们买了一个房子。前任房主赌博输钱后,把房子卖掉了。有个中介人介绍说这个房子好,过去装修确实很好的。195000元钱买过来了。买过来的时候呢,没有多长时间呢,那些找前房主收赌金的人,都向这个房子的主人要钱。但主人已经卖房逃跑了,别人过来找不到人,会把门从外面锁上。

买这个房子很倒霉的,在这个房子里怀孕、坐月子都在这个房子里。92年的7月的一天,一大早肚子痛起来。在旁边只有100米左右的私人的诊所里生下来了孩子。

M: Here is the story. We bought a house in 1991. The former homeowner sold his house after losing money in gambling. An intermediary said that the house was good, and the decoration was really good in the past. I bought it for 195,000 yuan. When I bought it, it didn’t take long before those debt collectors came to the house to ask for money. But the owner has already sold the house and ran away. The debt collectors would lock the door from outside with their own locks.

We were unlucky to have bought this house. We lived in this house during the second pregnancy and the Chinese practice of ‘sitting the month’ all in this house. My stomach hurt early in the morning in July 1992, the baby was born in a private clinic only about 100 meters away.

S:那第二胎的时候有做过B超吗?你生出来之前知道是个女儿吗?

S: Did you have an ultrasound during your second pregnancy? Did you know it would be a daughter before you gave birth?

M:肯定知道,反正我们这里的人都是这样的。生了第二个他说没关系,有些人是送给别人养,一个月要给别人钱呀。有一些人就直接抱给别人了,就送人了,就这样。

后来我生了27天后,我大姐在教堂里找了那户人家。

M:  I must have known. People here had ways to deal with the second daughter. People thought it was okay to have a second daughter. Some people would pay others to raise their daughter. Some people just gave away the daughter and that’s it.

Then 27 days after I gave birth to the second daughter, my eldest sister found the family in the church (and sent the daughter to that family).

S:那你当时生下来的时候是看到是个女儿,心里面是还记得是怎么想的吗?

S: Do you still remember what you thought when you gave birth to the second daughter?

M:这些我到现在为止,我都没有重男轻女,一点感觉也没有。但是婆婆她肯定是感觉怎么又是女孩。她们老人肯定是心里不高兴,我们是真无所谓的。

如果我把这个小孩给自己带,那要马上去结扎。那就是不用罚款,反正你一辈子就是两个女儿,反正这样的事,我们这里的人现在也很多。现在跟你年纪差不多大的,人家就两个女儿,有很多。除非有一些人要么抱给别人家说自己没有生下来。有些人来说直接送人了。

M: Up to now, I do not prefer boys over girls, not a slight bit. But my mother-in-law must feel like why was a girl again. The elderly must be upset. We really don’t care.

If I brought up this child myself, I would get sterilized immediately.  I would only have two daughters in my life. There are many families with two daughters (because of the policy). There are some people who would give away the second daughter and pretend they didn’t have another daughter. 

有些在单位里上班的人,她们每隔几个月都要去做检查,看有没有怀孕。不去的话,别人就会知道你是怀孕了。有一些人会找别人代替她去。这个造假肯定要有关系的。

但是有些人怀孕被抓住了,没办法,电视机拿走了,东西都搬走。那个时候政府那些。计划生育生育状态很严格的,把有些人的婆婆,公公,老公,外婆,外公都抓起坐牢的。

意思说一定要把孕妇人找过来才放他们走。怀一个大肚子,还有东逃西躲都要躲起来。

被他抓住,马上就把你打掉。

有些人他们有钱的,就罚款十万20万30万也有。或者罚你税务,反正就把生意给搞垮。

然后我就是这样,把第二个生下来交给别人养,就假装自己没有生第二个。我也没有去医院。

Some people who work for government owned employers had to be checked every few months to see if they are pregnant. If you don’t go, others will know that you were pregnant. Some people would find someone to replace her. Of course you must have connections to do hits.

But some people were caught when they were pregnant, the TV was taken away, and everything was taken by the government. The family planning workers were very strict, and some people’s mother-in-law, father-in-law, husband, grandma, and grandfather were all taken to prison.It meant that pregnant women must be found before they are let go. 

If you were pregnant with a big belly, you have to hide. If they were caught, they would be forced to get an abortion immediately.

Some people who have money and own businesses would be fined 100,000, 200,000 or 300,000 yuan. Or they would punish you with taxes, and ruin your businesses.

So what I did was to pay another family to raise the kid and pretend that I did not have the second one. I did not go to the hospital either.

S:那这27天里面的事情你还记得吗?你们是有商量吗,决定这个要不要这个小孩或者是送人呢?

S: Do you remember the events during these 27 days? Did you discuss the options, to give her away or pay someone to foster her?

M:我们坐月子也不敢在家里坐的。我在别人那里坐的。我有个朋友,她是7月7日生了儿子。我和他一起坐月子。

这时候我们心里也没有想到什么把送给别人啊,那一点心思也没有,就是给别人养个一年两年。等儿子生下来了,然后再把她抱回家。

说实在话也舍不得送给别人。

M: I didn’t dare to ‘sit the month’ at my own home. I did it at a friend’s place. She gave birth to a boy during the same time. 

At this time, we never thought of giving the girl to others. We didn’t have such thoughts at all. We just need a year or two. After the son is born, we would take her home again.

To be honest, I would not give it to others.

S:大姨是怎么找到把我寄养的这户人家,他们是怎么知道这户人家会帮别人带小孩的?

S: How did the auntie find the family who fostered me? How did they know that this family would help others with their children?

M:他们是在教堂里认识的。那户人家本来就有帮很多人代养孩子,他们的生活比较贫困,所以要靠帮别人代养孩子来赚额外的钱。

M: They met in the church. That family had already helped many people to raise children on their behalf. Their lives were relatively poor, so they had to make extra money by helping others raise children on their behalf.

S:那你一个月给他们多少钱?

S: How much did you pay them each month?

M:这都是有市场价格。别人给多少,我们也给多少。平时去那里看看,买点东西啊怎么样。他们对你好不好,这个我们真的是看不到。我现在过去他们也没有在打你,不给东西吃。但是我们走了我们就不知道了,你小孩又不知道,你也不会说话,只会哭。

这是一种社会现象,我们也没有办法。

M: All these have market prices. We pay as much as others pay. We would go there time to time and buy something. We really wouldn’t know if they treat you well. When we were there, they didn’t beat you and didn’t give food. But we don’t know what happens when we left. Of course you can’t speak, you would only cry.

This is a social phenomenon, and we had no choice.

M:后来我终于又怀了一个。去检查,查起来是个女儿,其实我也想把她生下来,8个半月了。

我记得很清楚的,真的,我现在睡觉经常会想起来。很后悔。那个时候是这样的,很严格的。

等于是他们镇政府的人都有任务的,你必须要抓几个。抓不到你这个职务也没有了,他是这样压下来。

有个副部长跟你爸关系很好的,对我们还算好的,就让我去打掉,说起来在这个我现在在心里也很难受的。两个女儿都这么聪明,生下来不是更好。我现在都这样子想。

那个检察长把我抓过去,打掉了,一根那么长的针扎到肚子上。

那个时候打掉都是免费的,还有东西送过来给我们动员。以前都是这样的,没办法的。就是没办法了,这个是政府压下来的,你不打掉,你要做去坐牢,不可能给你生下来的。

要么就是罚款,罚个10万20万就生意不让你做。

有个人能够一直升职,就是因为计划生育抓得很严。

M: Then I finally was pregnant again. I went to check and found out that she was a girl. In fact, I also wanted to give birth to her.She was eight and a half months in the belly.

I remember very clearly, really, I often think of it when I sleep now. I am still regretful. 

At that time, it was so strict. People in the town government had quotas, and you had to claim certain number of abortions. If they can’t catch enough, they’ll lose their positions. 

There is a government official who has a very good relationship with your dad. He had treated us well. He asked us to do an abortion. It still feels very hard for me to say that now.

My both daughters are so smart, it would be better to have the third one also be born. I still think so now. 

They forced an abortion on me. They stuck a needle that long into my stomach.

At that time, it was free to get an abortion, and there were even things sent to us to motivate more people to get abortions. There’s just no way to escape this. This was suppressed by the government. If you don’t get an abortion, you have to go to jail. It is impossible to give birth out of policy.

Either it is a fine, a fine of 100,000 and 200,000 or they will not let you do business.

There’s a person who got promoted all the time because he was very strict with family planning.

S:他们肯定可以睁一只眼闭一只眼,但是他选择了要这样子。

S: They could certainly turn a blind eye,  but he chose this way.

M:那也不是的,这个人家会顶起来的。你家里明明已经有两个小孩又生一个,他们家里怎么能不能这样子,这个肯定是不可能的。我们自己村里的人也会去举报,都是一样的。

M: That’s not true. Other people would complain.How come you obviously already had two children  and have more. How can they be like this in their family? People in our own village will also report.

S:那样了以后,然后你们就决定再生一次。

S: After that  (abortion), you decided to have another one?

M:决定不生了。虽然是生了两个孩子,其实费用也很大的,你在别人家里面寄养,每个月也都要钱。我已经决定不生了,看你们奶奶来跟我说再生一个吧,钱再多,别人也看不见啊,你要是没有儿子,别人会骂你的,你生吧生吧,我会去照顾你坐月子的之类之类的。

你弟弟在肚子里有5个多月了,我们也没有去打B超照性别。一直到5个多月才有朋友的朋友带我们去医院里面做了B超。以前跟你爸关系还可以,我们都已经商量好了。如果是个儿子的话,那以后衣服晚全部都由他来洗。如果是女儿的话,那就没办法,只好我自己洗了。

M: I decided not. I already had two children, the cost was actually very high. I had to pay for the family who was fostering you. I had already decided not to have a baby. Then your grandma came and persuaded me to have another one. She said that no matter how much money you have, others will not see. If you don’t have a son, others will scold you. I will take care of you during the ‘sit in month’ and things like that.

Your brother has been in my belly for more than 5 months, and we haven’t taken an ultrasound. It took more than 5 months for a friend of a friend to take us to the hospital for an ultrasound. My relationship with your dad used to be okay, we had already jokingly discussed it. If it is a son, he will wash all the clothes later. If it is a daughter, thenI have to wash it myself.

S: 生完之后大家都开心吗?

S: Was everyone happy after he was born?

M:我生了儿子,大家当然开心啦。生了之后就让他奶奶来带小孩。

M: I gave birth to a son, of course everyone was happy. After giving birth, his grandmother took care of the baby.

S:那你都舍得的吗?

S: Were you willing to let her?

M:奶奶来养他有什么好不舍得的,我那时候有工资给他的呀,大概是2000元钱左右。他53天就断奶了,生下来53天以后就马上去结扎了。

M: What is so unwilling for grandma to raise him? I paid her about 2,000 yuan per month. He was weaned in 53 days. I went to get sterilized immediately after 53 days of birth.

S:你自愿的吗?还是别人让你这个。

S: Did you volunteer? Or someone else forced you to do this.

M:自愿也要去不自愿也要去,就像犯罪之后去投降了。然后那个把你叫过来,把你的户口上起来,把他的户口上。罚了15000,后来你爸爸找了人,罚了12000。

M: Go voluntarily and go involuntarily, just like surrendering after committing a crime. Then we registered you and your brother. The fine was 15,000. Later, your father found some connections and we paid 12,000.

S:关于生孩子有什么遗憾吗?

S: Any regrets about having children?

M:就是打掉了这一个。

M: Just the one that we didn’t get to keep.

S:等于说你等于帮那个人完成一个政绩,然后你也知道那个已经验过是女的了。

S: So you were basically helping that person complete a political achievement, and then you also had known that it would have been a girl.

M:那知道的。这个是一个人一个人的思路。每个家庭的负担也不同。反正一个人一个人思想不同,有些人小孩子想多,有些人不想生孩子。

像现在我们家三个小孩都很好,那不就会有点可惜,为什么不把那个生下来?

如果三个小孩都不听话的话,那可能就不会想这些了。

现在真的经常会想起来那个小孩。睡觉的时候都会想起来。

M: We knew. Of course, having kids is different for everyone. The burden of each family is also different. Everyone thinks differently. Some people want more children, and some people don’t want to have children.

Now that all three children in our family are fine, it would be a pity, why not give birth to that?

If the three children do not behave, then I might not think about it.

Now I really often think of that child. I think of it when I sleep.

—- end of the interview

S:我们的采访内容暂时告一段落,说实话我并不完全赞同我妈妈的一些想法和做法,但这是她最真实的想法,是她的成长和生活环境在她身上留下的痕迹。

她的生育权并不完全掌握在他自己手里,是农村里传统的重男轻女思想和当时的计划生育政策,共同决定了她的生育和我们这家人的命运,包括我那被消失了的妹妹。

我在采访完我妈妈以后,也会经常想到那个没有机会长大的妹妹。如果她能够出生长大,她会有怎样的生活呢?

感谢收听噢!妈妈的第一期节目。这个节目目前还没有第二期,因为我暂时还没有找到愿意讨论这个话题的母亲们。

如果你或者你的母亲愿意谈论自己的生育历史,请通过邮箱联系我。如果你有任何的感想,欢迎给我发邮件或者在社交媒体上联络我。

如果你喜欢这期节目,请分享给你的朋友或者家人,希望我们会有下一期节目。

我们后会有期。

S: The content of our interview has come to an end. To be honest, I don’t fully agree with some of my mother’s ideas and practices, but these are her truest ideas and the traces of her growing up and living environment left on her.

Her reproductive rights are not entirely in his own hands. It is the traditional patriarchal thinking in the countryside and the family planning policy at that time, which together determine his reputation and the fate of our family, including my disappeared sister.

After interviewing my mother, I also often think of the sister who didn’t have a chance to grow up. If she was born and raised, what kind of life would she have?

Thanks for listening to the first episode of our Oh!Moma. There is no second episode of this program currently, because I haven’t found mothers who are willing to discuss this topic.

If you or your mother would like to talk about your reproductive history, please contact me via email. If you have any thoughts, please email me at ohmama.fm@gmail.com or contact me on social media.

If you like this episode, please share it with your friends or family, hope we will have the next episode.

Hope we can meet soon.

Elise Paschen speaks about her mother, Maria Tallchief: Brilliant Dancer, Muse to George Balanchine, Mother to a Poet

Elise Paschen speaks about her mother

This week’s episode has been percolating for months.

I can’t tell you exactly what led me to think that Maria Tallchief might have been an extraordinary mother, but it had something to do with knowing that she was an extraordinary woman.  

When I wrote to her daughter, the Chicago-based poet Elise Paschen, Elise wrote back right away to say she was interested but busy, and could I get back in touch with her in a couple of months.

A couple of months later, I wrote again. This time, her calendar less packed,  Elise was eager to tell me that her mother, whose technical brilliance as America’s first prima ballerina was captured on film only occasionally, had just been honored in a Google Doodle. The Doodle was created in collaboration with American Indian guest artists. One,  Lydia Cheshewalla,  is, as Tallchief was, a citizen of the Osage Nation.  Cheshewalla told an interviewer she’s admired Tallchief since childhood. Creating the artwork, she said, felt like she was coming full circle. 

When Elise Paschen speaks about her mother, her tone is one of quiet reverence, with a hint of  the “we-had-something-special” vibe I detect in the voice of many people I interview.  Elise has written several poems about her mother. They’re rich with imagery of her mother’s dancing. The poem Eurydice, about her mother’s performance in Orpheus, set to the music of Igor Stravinsky, ends with this:

Mother, when I was young, I watched

you from the wings and saw the sweat

dripping from your arms and neck, your gasp

for breath. I thought it was your last. 

But no. You’d towel off, and then

step back into the sunlight, smiling.

To prepare for our conversation,  Elise suggested I read her mother’s 1997 autobiography, Maria Tallchief: America’s Prima Ballerina, written with Larry Kaplan.  I promptly borrowed the book from the Internet Archive, and couldn’t put it down. It’s a book as humble as it is awe-inspiring.

And in the Department of Odd Coincidences, there’s this: For years, every time I’ve moved (and I’ve moved a lot), I’ve taken with me a much loved  book I own, titled Poetry Speaks. I bought it for the written poems, but also for the  three CD’s it came with, filled with spoken poetry. For years I kept the discs in my car and listened to those CD’s while driving, soothed by verse read by the poets themselves:  Walt Whitman, T.S. Eliot; Dorothy Parker;  Langston Hughes, Allen Ginsberg,  Sylvia Plath. At some point after Spotify had taken charge of  my listening  habits,  I lost the poetry CD’s.

But the book remains in my possession. And I keep it close at hand on the bookshelf next to my desk. Occasionally, I take it down, open it, and read whatever poem I happen upon.

On the  morning  Elise and I were set to talk, I glanced at the shelf, and my eyes lingered  just long enough on Poetry Speaks to take in the names of the volume’s editors: Elise Paschen. How strange that I’d never bothered to read the name. Yet now, how fitting. And thirty minutes later, there she was, reading poetry — her own, about her extraordinary mother — straight into my ear.  A full circle indeed.

Elise Paschen’s word to describe her mother: Passionate. Please contribute the word that best describes your mother to the Our Mothers Ourselves Word Cloud.

Our theme song, Tell Me Mama, is composed and performed by Andrea Perry.  Paula Mangin is our artist-in-residence. Alice Hudson is the show’s producer, and Sophie McNulty did this week’s social media.  

On What Matters: Navigating an Interview with Reeve Lindbergh

Interview with Reeve Lindbergh

When Reeve Lindbergh’s parents were young they were, for a time, arguably the most famous people in the world. So great was Charles Lindbergh’s celebrity that  it spawned the first generation of Paparazzi.  As Susan Hertog pointed out in her splendid biography, Anne Morrow Lindbergh: Her Life, when Lindbergh landed in Paris after his historic transatlantic flight in 1927, the overzealous crowd “surged toward him, mauling his plane in a wild stampede.”  

Two years later, Anne Spencer Morrow,  a 23-year-old introverted intellectual, caught Lindbergh’s eye while on Christmas break from Smith College. She was visiting her family in Mexico, where her father, Dwight Morrow, was U.S. Ambassador. 

Packs of news photographers followed the Lindberghs everywhere. When the couple’s infant son Charles Jr. was kidnapped in 1932, the press paid frenzied attention to the crime. The story remained in the headlines for months.

(Among the many heartbreaking artifacts that remain from the kidnapping is a front-page item in The New York Times from March 3, 1932: It’s a brief notice,  stating that the baby had been ill: “In the hope that whoever has taken the baby may see and understand the necessity for care, Mrs. Lindbergh…gave out the diet she had been following.” It included — exposing a young mother’s anguish to the world — “half a cup of orange juice on waking.”)

So as public figures go, one might think that anything about the Lindbergh family is fair game.

But I wanted something different. This podcast is about the way women carry out the most sacred role in their lives. As for the husband, famous or otherwise, there must be a good reason for him to enter the conversation. If there isn’t, I leave him out.

Charles Lindbergh was a complicated man. Historians have documented his respect for the Nazis in prewar Germany. And two years after Anne Morrow Lindbergh died, it was revealed that for many years he had led a double life.

In 2003,  a German woman named Astrid Bouteuil came forward with the news that she and her two brothers were Lindbergh’s children, the result of a years-long affair he had had with their mother. DNA tests confirmed it.

In short order, it was revealed that in the same years Lindbergh was involved with Brigitte Hesshaimer, he had an affair with her sister, Marietta, that produced two other children.  And a third relationship – with his secretary and translator – produced two more. Apparently, he provided for all of the children.  Still, he kept his extracurricular families  a secret from his wife

A book, Das Doppelleben des (The Double Life of…) Charles A. Lindbergh, was published in 2005. (Interestingly, it has yet to be translated into English.)

When the story of Lindbergh’s double life first came to light, the question of how Anne Lindbergh’s children might react was addressed at the time by  A. Scott Berg, Lindbergh’s biographer. ”It’s a titillating story in Germany,” he told The New York Times. “But for four people named Lindbergh on this side of the ocean, it’s a deeply troubling personal story.”

The story of Lindbergh’s secret  lives, it turns out, has been linked – compellingly, I might add – to the story of the kidnapping (see Lloyd Gardner’s excellent book, The Case That Never Dies, from Rutgers University Press).

When I spoke with Reeve,  I chose not to bring any of this up, for what boiled down to a very simple reason .

Asking Reeve to comment wouldn’t merely have cast a shadow over the entire interview. It would have made the interview about her father.

Instead, I urge you to read Reeve’s own writing on the topic.  She has written beautifully about her life as a Lindbergh in general, and about this sordid chapter in particular.  In her 2018 memoir, Two Lives, Reeve reflected on her own  split life, navigating her role as the public face of her family while, at the same time, leading a quiet existence in rural Vermont. In that book, and in her 2009 book, Forward From Here, she writes about her father’s other families. 

“I have the feeling that he was the only person involved with all these families who knew the full truth, and I keep thinking that by the time he died in 1974, my father had made his life so complicated that he had to keep each part separate from the other parts … I don’t know why he lived this way, and I don’t think I ever will know, but what it means to me is that every intimate human connection my father had during his later years was fractured by secrecy.”

At the end of our interview, I thanked Reeve, and she thanked me in return. “This has been a real nourishment for me to be able to talk about her with you this way,” she said.

I wouldn’t have wanted it to be anything else.

A note: Reeve’s word to describe her mother was “thoughtful.” Please visit the Mother Word Cloud and contribute your word to best describe your own.

This week’s episode of Our Mothers Ourselves can be found on Buzzsprout, Apple iTunes, Spotify, and pretty much everywhere else in the known podiverse.

Artwork: Paula Mangin (@PaulaBallah)

Music: Andrea Perry.

Producer: Alice Hudson 

Charming Candor Runs in the Family: Emma Walton Hamilton on Julie Andrews, her Mother.

Emma Walton Hamilton on Julie Andrews
Emma Walton Hamilton on Julie Andrews
She is our Sunshine

“What should I read?” 

“Her memoirs. Definitely the first one.”

That was Emma Walton Hamilton’s suggestion for how best to prepare for an interview about her mother, Julie Andrews.

Julie Andrews’s two memoirs, Home, and Home Work, are at once heartbreaking and awe-inspiring. While reading them, I toggled between listening to Julie’s narration via audiobook and reading words on a page. I was struck by how differently I absorbed the material depending on the medium. That is, when I listened — to that familiar dulcet voice,  made still warmer with age — so thoroughly had I absorbed its calming effect over the years, I found it hard to feel the darkness of the material. But then, when I switched to the words as written, their full weight landed.

How on earth did she emerge from all that so optimistic, her view of the world untainted by her own unhappy experiences? The answer: Because that’s who Julie Andrews is, luminous at her core.

For the holidays, we’re revisiting Katie’s conversation  with Emma Walton Hamilton, daughter of the extraordinary Julie Andrews, about her mom’s difficult childhood and her determination to give her own children stability and, above all, constant love.

Emma, it turns out,  is every bit as radiant as her mother. In our interview, she talked about her mother’s innocence, well into adulthood, a true surprise given the effect that parts of her childhood could have had on her. She talked about the insights she had when read through her mother’s journals. And she talked about the bond that doesn’t quit.

Emma and her mother have written more than 30 children’s books together. (If you haven’t dipped into The Very Fairy Princess series, you haven’t lived.) And they co-host the podcast Julie’s Library.

Art by Paula Mangin
Music by Andrea Perry
Producer: Alice Hudson

Please contribute to the mother word cloud, with your one word to describe your mother.

A very special thanks to Liz Mitchell for permission to use her beautiful version of You Are My Sunshine.

Assemblywoman Shirley Weber of California Assembly District 79 on her mother, Mildred Nash: “My mother was a woman of tremendous integrity.”

California Assembly District 79

Fleeing a lynch mob in Arkansas; a new life in
Los Angeles; eight children and a giving hand. Unimpeachable integrity.

One afternoon early in 2020, I driving home, listening to KQED (our much loved public radio station here in San Francisco) and I happened to catch the beginning of a fascinating interview. Scott Shafer and Marisa Lagos were on the phone with a state Assembly member of California Assembly District 79 named Shirley Weber. Weber’s voice was strong, her words well chosen, her views as sensible as the day is long.

Weber talked about her family’s journey to California, after her father, David Nash, fled a lynch mob in Arkansas. She talked about the strong influence her elementary school teachers had one her. She talked about her hopes for education and criminal justice reform. 

When I got home, I sat in the garage and kept listening, rapt. Wow. Who is this?

Such was my lucky introduction to Shirley Weber, Ph.D., a retired San Diego State University professor who is now a Democratic assemblywoman and the head of California’s Legislative Black Caucus. 

On Tuesday, Gov. Gavin Newsom nominated Dr. Weber to succeed Alex Padilla as secretary of state. “Dr. Weber is a tireless advocate and change agent with unimpeachable integrity,” he said.

Key word: Integrity.

There was one person who didn’t come up in that KQED interview: Dr. Weber’s mother.  A woman like this must have had a pretty great mother, I thought. 

I called Dr. Weber’s aide, Joe Kocurek, and asked him whether Dr. Weber had indeed had a mother she cherished. Yes she did, was his response. And Dr. Weber would be more than happy to talk with me about her mother,  Mildred Nash.

My conversation with Dr. Weber was my second interview for the podcast. It would be putting it charitably to say I was still feeling my way around podcast production. The quality of our Zencastr recording  was terrible (entirely my fault, for the record),  and Dr. Weber, newly stuck at home thanks to the pandemic, very kindly made a backup recording for me on her phone.

It was an interview I’ll never forget. Here I was, a total stranger, asking her about things from her childhood that she might long since have shelved.  But she was eager to honor the woman who raised her. Each memory she called forth seemed to spark a new one. She told me about her mother’s childhood in Arkansas, where she was raised by her grandmother; her mother’s math skills; her sweet potato cobbler; the ride on the segregated train when the family moved to Los Angeles in the early 1950s.

The family settled in the projects of South LA and Shirley’s mother, Mildred, worked hard as a homemaker raising her eight children. Dr. Weber told me about her mother’s superhuman efforts as a mother and homemaker. (“By the time we got out of bed in the morning, my mother had already washed a load of clothes and most had them hanging on the line.”)

Mildred Nash was so beloved in the community that when she died in 1977, the church was packed with mourners, and the flowers at the cemetery were stacked six feet high. To this day, people who know the Nash children — and their children — talk about Mildred Nash.

She lived to see her daughter Shirley receive her Ph.D. from U.C.L.A. She didn’t get to see her daughter’s rise to prominence in the California State Assembly. She didn’t live to see Dr. Weber, as chair of the Legislative Black Caucus, create a law to study proposals for reparations to descendants of enslaved people. And she didn’t get to see her daughter preside over the counting of the Electoral College votes, a count that would put Joe Biden and Kamala Harris over the top in the 2020 presidential election. The count was covered in full on C-Span, and inspired a Q&A with The New York Times,  in which Dr Weber talked about the electoral college, and voting rights.

On the day of the vote count, Dr. Weber’s outfit, a rich dark pink, put me in mind of the color her mother wore at Dr. Weber’s Ph.D. ceremony at U.C.L.A. in 1976. The photograph from that ceremony served as the basis for Paula Mangin’s drawing, which accompanies the podcast.

Mildred Nash would have turned 100 this year.

In the News

(12-22-20) Congratulations to Shirley Weber for her nomination by Governor Gavin Newsom as the next Secretary of State of California.

A Daughter’s Earnest Perspective: Gurki Basra on Indian Matchmaking and her mother, Tanjeet Basra

Gurki Basra on Indian Matchmaking

Gurki Basra on Indian Matchmaking: An Arranged Marriage and Its Evolution Toward Love

Gurki Basra knows a thing or two about dating. She even starred in Season One of the Netflix show Dating Around. One of her dates on that show could well go down in history as one of the worst first (and last) dates ever captured on camera.

Gurki’s mother, Tanjeet, on the other hand, had never been on a date, right up to the day she was married at age  22, which also happened to be the day she met her husband for the first time. As a matter of fact, during this blindest of blind dates, the Punjabi newlyweds hardly spoke to each other.

How do you come to know your life partner after such a beginning? And how on earth to you come to love him? 

I invited Gurki  on to the podcast to talk about her mother, and her family’s tradition of Indian matchmaking. 

I didn’t ask the question straight up, but wanted to know what Gurki thought of all this dating app madness and stress, especially after watching her own parents’ relationship grow into a kind of love that strikes their daughter as warm and comforting. It’s a kind of love born not of fiery passion but familiarity. During our interview,  Gurki offered pearls of wisdom she’s gleaned while bearing witness to her parents’ marriage. She carries these pearls with her as she continues her journey along the rubble strewn path of dating in the 21st century. 

And our conversation made us both stop to ask: might the human heart be spared a lot of unnecessary pain and drama if marriage were simply a matter settled between two sets of parents?

Gurki Basra on Indian Matchmaking

A note: Gurki’s word for her mother: LOVING, which you can find (along with a thousand others)  just around the corner, on the mother word cloud page. Please visit the page and contribute your own word that best describes your mother.

Artwork by Paula Mangin: (@PaulaBallah on Instagram)

Our theme song, Tell Me Mama, was composed and performed by Andrea Perry. 

Producer: David Walters

Web site: Jeannie Stivers

The poet David Whyte’s farewell letter to his mother, Mary O’Sullivan. His lyrical bridge to the past.

David Whyte's Farewell Letter

David Whyte's Farewell Letter is a balm for the soul

November 28, 2020

In this strangest of holiday seasons, when so many of us are missing our extra limb of extended family, I’m not sure it’s really just cheer we could use. As we turn this final page on our dark 2020, we might need something that transports us in a different way. The wisdom of the poet and philosopher David Whyte, especially when it comes to the wonderful relationship he had with his mother, Mary O’Sullivan, might be just what the doctor ordered.

Whyte has said that what he does for a living is ruminate on “the conversational nature of reality.”  For more than three decades, he’s been bringing his poetry and philosophy to audiences of all stripes, pinstripes included. He has read Rainer Maria Rilke’s poem The Swan – in its original German – and Emily Dickinson’s I dwell in possibility to corporate managers, and watched their bewilderment turn to understanding. In fact, Whyte has worked with companies around the world with the goal of making business leaders see that they are more likely to reach their full potential if they can find the poetry in their work lives.

I began reading David Whyte’s poetry nearly 20 years ago, when a friend gave me a two-volume boxed set. In that set I found the immaculately crafted poem The Well of Grief, which came to inhabit my interior landscape — and my purse, where I’ve kept a copy folded and tucked for many years. 

I got in touch with David about coming on to Our Mothers Ourselves after I heard him tell a heartbreaking story about his mother during his popular Sunday Series. Thomas Crocker, Whyte’s very kind right-hand person, got back to me and said that David’s schedule was hectic, but there was something about the invitation that spoke to him. That’s the way things tend to happen with this podcast: People find themselves wanting, needing, yearning to talk about the woman who saw them through so much of life.

 

Over the past decade or so, I’ve been asking people to choose just one word to describe their mother, and when I asked this of Whyte, he said it was something he hadn’t thought about before – finding the one word that best sums up Mary O’Sullivan. He chose the word “lyrical,” because, he said, his mother was “joyously articulate,” “a great singer,” and lyrical in her use of words to convey love and affection.

Turning the tables just a bit, I asked a few friends, whom I know to be fans of Whyte’s poetry, for the word they would use to describe David Whyte. A sampling of the responses: Insightful. Profound. Deep. Wise. Genius. Spiritual. Inspirational. Accessible. Surprising. Mystic. Storyteller.

My own word for Whyte: Bountiful. Everything he writes, even words wrought in sparest form, is a generous helping for the mind and for the soul.  When Whyte arrives, poetry in hand, the gift he brings is as precious as the most exquisite mother-of-pearl box. And long after its bearer has taken leave, the poetry stays. Phrases like ‘Perfection is a fragile, ice-thin ground that barely holds our human weight’ linger like an afterimage.  

One David Whyte poem that is new to me is Farewell Letterabout a letter he imagined his mother might have written to him after her death. Mary O’Sullivan became her son’s own lyrical bridge between two worlds.

In our interview, Whyte talks about the interrupted dream that gave rise to the poem. 

Whyte’s verse is balm for many a broken soul. Who wouldn’t want to read a poem titled Everything is Waiting for You? (Incidentally, the volume in which the poem appears, of the same title, is dedicated to none other than the lyrical Mary O’Sullivan.) So here’s to hoping that my conversation with David about his mother and their elemental bond will feed your mind, raise your spirits and fill your soul. I know it lifted my own heart beyond measure.

* You can find David Whyte’s word for his mother — and those of a thousand other offspring who have contributed their one word — just around the corner, on the word cloud page. Please visit and contribute your own.

A special thanks to Thomas Crocker at Many Rivers Press for permission to use David’s poetry, and to the late Bridie Gallagher for her beautiful rendition of A Mother’s Love’s a Blessing.

This episode is dedicated to the late poet (and editor non pareil), David Corcoran.  We miss you, David.

Our Mothers Ourselves is a production of Odradek Studios in San Francisco.

Alison Aucoin’s mom died from Covid-19. The grief became rage. At Donald Trump.

Alison Aucoin's mom died from Covid-19
Alison Aucoin's mom died from Covid-19
November 22, 2020

Originally Published: November 23, 2020
Updated: January 21, 2021

Alison Aucoin's mom died from Covid-19. A grim milestone. One of 563,980 Covid deaths in the U.S. alone.

The U.S. keeps reaching grim milestones, then surpassing them. Since early December, the number of average number of deaths every day from Covid was more than 3,000, and is only now starting to taper off due to the release of two vaccines.

Let’s put that number in perspective. The 1906 San Francisco earthquake killed 3,000 people in the SF Bay Area. The 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center in 2001 killed 2,605 people. These same tolls from Covid occurred in a single day. 

I started the Our Mothers Ourselves Podcast last May, when pretty much everyone I knew was deep in the Covid doldrums, well before we had any idea just how many people would get sick, and well before I knew anyone whose Mom died of Covid. 

For months, I’ve had it in the back of my mind to find someone who lost their mother to Covid. But I didn’t pursue it.  Was I scared? Did it feel exploitive? Then, in early October, my producer sent me a Facebook post she’d just seen. “You have to see this,” she said.

I was as taken aback as I was intrigued. The post shows a photograph of a woman seated next to a wooden box. But what your eye goes to immediately isn’t the woman’s face. It’s the finger. The woman in the photo, Alison Aucoin, is holding up her middle finger in a gesture of quiet outrage. In the post, Alison goes on to explain that the box contains the ashes of her mother, Lynn Evans. Alison describes mom’s tenacity and grace, and the cruel way that Covid killed her. But Alison isn’t blaming the virus so much as she is blaming the President of the United States – Donald J. Trump – for the way he mishandled the pandemic. 

Alison Aucoin's mom died from Covid-19

Lynn Evans was 79 when she died in April, after contracting Covid in a nursing home in New Orleans. Thousands upon thousands of Americans have died since. Alison’s post was visceral, raw, blunt, and beautiful. So we approached Alison, who had just moved to Orange County, California with her daughter, a dancer who had received a scholarship to train at the prestigious American Ballet Theatre Gillespie School. She agreed to share her story.

And so we talked, with Alison in her apartment in southern California and me in a closet in my house in San Francisco (next to the WiFi router, of course), both of us logged onto Squadcast, with only each other’s voices. Alison talked about her mom’s very southern childhood in New Orleans; as an only child, Lynn was mightily doted upon. Alison, too, was an only child, and she told me about the way her mother was a constant presence in her life, selfless in the way she would do anything for her daughter that seemed like the right thing to do, and was in her capacity.

The hardest part of the interview came with Alison’s recounting of the nightmare that was Lynn Evans’s illness and death. As her condition deteriorated, Lynn tried to tell her daughter how sick she was, but she had dementia, and Alison couldn’t understand what her mother was trying to say. Because the nursing home staff hadn’t mentioned that she was sick.

Alison was proud to tell me that moving cross-country in the middle of a pandemic to support her own daughter’s dream to dance is something her mother would have done for her, and she’s proud to take that piece of her mom into her own parenting.

We talked for more than an hour. At times during the interview, Alison was overcome by emotion and had to stop. And we went slowly, coming back to things that were too tough to tackle at the beginning and taking a break when she needed it. We took many breaks.

So when you listen to this episode, bear in mind that for every word Alison says, there were ten more that she couldn’t summon because talking about what happened was just so hard. That’s how raw things still are for Alison, whose mom died from Covid seven months before we spoke. That’s the toll of one death. Alison Aucoin’s mom died from Covid-19, and It’s a death that speaks for 563,980. And counting.

** A  warm Thank You to ace trumpet player Kevin Clark and the Dukes of Dixieland for permission to play On the Sunny Side of the Street, and Stardust (with Tom McDermott on piano and the late great Leigh Harris (Little Queenie) on vocals