Chapter 20 - With the Taylors Again

Tyler came home from Vietnam in 1969 because his twins were born quite premature and very tiny. Two little boys fighting to breathe while their lungs developed. They weighed two something and one something and it was not thought that they would live. Tyler, who had spent his time in Vietnam in the motor pool thanks to the many hours spent with Hobart with his head under a car hood, was released on a hardship discharge. Even though he was not a combat troop, he had seen enough to last a lifetime and did not want to talk about it. The winter was spent visiting the hospital and waiting for the twins to add weight. Sara, always an anxious woman, held up remarkably well once Tyler got home. One twin was a great concern to the doctors; they were quite negative about his chances.

This was the first Taylor family crisis in which life and death of an infant was involved. My mom and dad had friends whose young daughter was killed in a farm accident and our favorite aunt died of kidney disease. But these guys were babies and they were Tyler’s babies. The Taylors rallied to help Tyler and Sara by lavishing lots of home cooking, love, and attention on them.

By summer the twins were both home and doing very well. They were curly blonds like Tyler had been and their intelligence was already obvious. Tyler and Sara bought a mobile home and some land out in the same sticks where Annie’s family lived.

Gertie and Jason also had a boy, also curly blond hair, but much chubbier – a very smiley social butterfly who had charmed his way into all our hearts. I was the only one of the first four without a husband and a child and Augusta was feeling it. One day she tried to fix me up with a poor, unsuspecting door-to-door pots and pans salesman. I still insisted that I was not interested in marriage or children, but to Augusta this was just some poor self-image denial crap. A life without marriage and children was unfathomable to her. Luke we did not talk about.

With four babies, well three newborns and one toddler, Sundays were one long baby fest. I did love all my nephews and my niece and clamored to hold them just like all my sisters and my mom did. They never touched the floor when they were at gramma’s. As soon as one person looked ready to set a child down, a new set of arms appeared to whisk the child away.
It was the summer of the above ground pool. Everyone decided we would finally get a swimming pool so Hobart picked up a kit for an 8-foot diameter pool. An 8-foot circle had be cleared, although a spot was chosen that took advantage of whatever grassless spots were left. All stones had to be cleared from the space and sand laid down and raked out level. Then the plastic retaining wall could be put together, the liner smoothed into place, and the caps that held the liner could be snapped over the liner. The filter was assembled and placed but would not be turned on until the pool was full. This project was much easier than the cellar wall project and was actually completed in one Sunday. The guys, Dean, Tyler, Jason and Robert got quite drunk on beer. Hobart was grouchy and disapproving. By the end of the day the hose was in the pool, the babies were cranky and Hobart was somewhat mollified with a good barbecue.

Sundays that summer were spent in the pool and the backyard, although the moms, Felicity, Gertie, and Sara, spent most of their time watching babies and helping with lunch and dinner. The guys spent most of their time working on cars, standing around with beers, belching, farting, getting hot and sweaty, and finally jumping in the pool. Sometimes they got a little too fried and threw women in the pool who were not even dressed for swimming. Hobart knew his sons liked their beers, but he never realized how much until drinking was not intermixed with work, but instead with recreation and hijinks. It was obvious that Hobart regretted putting up that pool.

The Taylors started to have arguments about child rearing. After all there were three new adults in the family who had not been raised in the Taylor household. Dean had spent a lot of time at our house as a teenager and he also grew up in Smithvale, but his mom was a stern no-nonsense kind of woman. He did not have brother, just three sisters. Felicity and Dean did not always see eye-to-eye where Abby was concerned, Felicity coming down on the side of being at the baby’s beck and call, Dean on the side of letting the child cry sometimes. The Taylors were not sympathetic to Dean. Sara was just a plain fuss-budget, perfectly reasonable probably considering the boys had almost died, but still miles away from the laid back Taylor style. She had the number for Poison Control memorized, and, if speed dial had been available then, the number would have been programmed in. Gertie’s Jason was from a very dysfunctional family and he was a Southern boy. He still talked about rebels and Yankees and nothing Gertie did with his son satisfied him. (He did think of the baby as “his”.) The Taylor clan absorbed the newcomers, but was altered by them. There is nothing like a big, friendly family, though, and we changed them too.

Robert was also showing signs of settling down. One of Morgan’s friends was hanging around and Robert was not pushing this Ellen girl away. He was embarrassed about it, God forbid anyone should tease him (Mr. Torture), but when they thought they could avoid notice by the big mouths (Tyler, Dean and Jason) they say side-by-side on the couch, not saying much, but obviously intent on proximity.

My life had nothing in common with my brothers and sisters lives. They had no idea how my life went from day to day and I’m sure they did not want to know. I liked my life but I knew better than to share too many of the details. Obviously, they knew Annie and had met Linda. They knew about Lena by reputation, but had never met her, and they knew Luke because he used to hang out with Robert. They knew about my losing my job and about the Austin Healey, but we did not discuss the job search I was supposed to be conducting or how I was paying for the car. I suspected they talked about me a lot when I wasn’t around.

When I was home with the Taylors, however, I did as the Taylors did. If I arrived stoned, I left straight, not being a big drinker. I held babies, discussed babies, cooked, set tables, did dishes and swam like everyone else. But I didn’t fit in like everyone else and I thought they were the backward ones, the ones who were marching out of tune with the times. And even though I didn’t fit in, I kept going home, not wanting to completely surrender my membership in the Taylor clan. And I wouldn’t have missed the babies for anything, but I would have been happy to miss Augusta’s concern and Hobart’s disregard.I was in the 60's, but my family was still in the 50's. And I knew how to inhale.

Chapter 19 - Jane Austen in the Park

I felt so free. Women were still in arranged marriages, having their feet bound, and in other male-dominated situations all around the world, but not in America. We were equals with our men. We had the pill. Surprise babies were a thing of the past. We could smoke cigarettes, go to college, have jobs. We could go wherever we wanted to go and do whatever we wanted to do. What a privileged time in which to be born. We could wear jeans and sit cross-legged on the ground and get high and read books all day, and eat out in restaurants whenever we could afford to. We did not need our father’s brother’s, uncle’s, boyfriend’s, husband’s permission to do any of these things. What would Jane Austen think? I picture the clothes she had to wear, the socially orchestrated life she had to live.
I’m in the park by the rose garden sitting on the brick stairs at the end of the brick walk, just enjoying the warm sunniness of the day and the smell of cut grass and roses. I’m wearing an embroidered Indian white on white top of lightweight cotton and my khaki carpenter jeans with the little loop for a hammer. My white Dr. Scholl’s sandals are thrust out in front of me. I’m resting on my elbows, catching a few rays. I turn and open my eyes and I see Jane Austen walking towards me down the garden path drenched in dappled summer sun and shadows filtered through the old maples and oaks that line the path. She doesn’t see me yet. She seems to float down the brick walk in her long skirted dress, head high, back perfectly straight. She has slipper-type shoes with low heels. They are off-white with a bow on the front. Her dress is in the Greek style, empire waist, loose skirts flowing softly to the tips of her shoes. It looks like an everyday dress, cream background, small floral design, maybe roses, in pinks and greens, perhaps a chintz. The dress has a V-neck with a wide creamy cotton collar, spotless, and sleeves just above the elbow with a crisp creamy lace edge. She has the handles of a woven handbag twined around her gloved right hand. It’s one of those small pouch-type bags, pulling on the handles closes the top of the bag. Her hair is brown, piled atop her head, no loose ends. She has a summer straw picture hat on her head, pink and green ribbons around the brim, trailing down her back. A puzzled expression crosses her delicate features. She doesn’t recognize her surroundings.
She sees me and her puzzlement increases momentarily before she takes control of her expression. In spite of her control, I can see that she is scandalized. I remember I am braless. Perhaps, though, that is the least conspicuous of my transgressions.
“Good morning, Ms. Austen,” I say.
“Where am I she says?” forgetting her usually excellent manners.
“You’re not really here,” I say, “you’re just a figment of my imagination.”
“Oh, thank goodness. I was somewhere that made me very happy,” she says, “I wouldn’t want to get lost.”
“Where were you? Was it heaven? What was it like?” I ask.
“Oh we’re not allowed to talk about that,” she says.
“Please sit down. Sit down here on the steps with me.” I say, moving down a few steps to make room for her big dress. Maybe we could have a conversation.”
She is not overly fastidious. She sinks gracefully to perch on the top step. She looks me over.
“My dear,” she says, “what are you wearing. I have never seen such clothing. Pants on a women! Where are your undergarments?”
“Call me Zoe, Ms Austen”, I say, “This is the year 1969, and my friends all dress like this. We’re members of a large social movement called ‘hippies’.”
“1969?” she repeated astounded, “America? Hippies?”
Her eyes started to glaze over.
“We have a commercial for cigarettes that says ‘You’ve come a long way, baby.’ We are also in the middle of a social revolution called the “Women’s Liberation Movement’,” I say, “I got you here to see what you think of our new freedoms.”
“Cigarettes? Commercial? Baby?” she echoes, still not focusing as I would have liked.
“Cigarettes are tobacco rolled in paper,” I tell her, “a commercial is an advertisement and, since women can smoke cigarettes openly now and they once could not the ad is speaking to women. Baby is modern slang, used to show how cool and hip women are now.”
“Cool?” she says, “Hip?”
“Never mind,” I say, I really just wanted you to notice how free we are. We have a pill. If we take it everyday we don’t get pregnant. We can have as many lovers or as much sexual intercourse as we like because we are protected as long as we remember to take that pill. We don’t have to wear skirts all the time and we don’t need the protection of a man. We can come and go as we like, even have an education and a career.”
She thinks, taking in all I have said.
“My dear Zoe,” she says, “you are not as free as you imagine. Given the nature of some men, who can be as evil as the Devil, I think you will find that total freedom for women is a myth. And while the idea of an education for women is wondrously marvelous, and even having projects that occupy the mind is a concept I can grasp, a woman’s reputation will always be important and must be guarded at all times. Women, like men, will never be totally free. Free to do what? To be low and depraved. Sexuality, free of love is an abomination leading to the basest kinds of behavior.”
I didn’t argue, although this encounter had not gone quite as I expected. Apparently Jane did not envy my freedom as much as I had hoped she would. I just gave myself a knowing little “I know better” smile and made my politest good-byes. I was satisfied with the contrast between our situations, certain that I was infinitely more sophisticated and that modern women should have knocked the socks off of Ms. Jane Austen. All of her warnings were just anachronistic (excuse me) “bullshit”. (She would have frowned over that vulgarism, but, to underline my point, I was free to say it.)
I stood up, took one last whiff of the roses and walked home, by myself.






 

Chapter 17 - USA, 1969

In 1969 the five most watched TV shows were: Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In, Gomer Pyle MSMC, Bonanza, Mayberry RFD, and Family Affair. A half-gallon of milk cost 55¢, gas/gallon, 35¢, one pound of butter, 85¢, one loaf of white bread, 23¢. The minimum wage was $1.60.
Movies we watched in 1969 included: Sweet Charity, Funny Girl, Midnight Cowboy, True Grit, Take the Money and Run, Goodbye Columbus, Alice’s Restaurant, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Oh What a Lovely War, Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice, The Sterile Cuckoo, Goodbye Mr. Chips, and They Shoot Horses Don’t They.
Slaughterhouse Five, The Love Machine, The French Lieutenant’s Woman, and Portnoy’s Complaint were all on the New York Times Bestseller’s Lists.
Everywhere everyday life reflected the split between the “counter culture” and the “mainstream” culture. At least it did to me. Even the news seemed split between the two camps.
The “counter culture” news went like this. The Two Virgins album released by John and Yoko was banned from stores as pornographic. Early in the year Heard it Through the Grapevine by Marvin Gaye was the #1 hit. The Beatles made their last ever appearance as a group performing on the roof of Apple Studios. The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour was cancelled for political reasons when they had Joan Baez as a guest. Jim Morrison of the Doors was arrested for allegedly exposing himself during a show. Biafra threatened to become “one of the great catastrophes of modern times.” The Chicago 8 were indicted after disturbances and demonstrations at the Democratic National Convention. Paul McCartney married Linda Eastman. In April Aquarius (Let the Sun Shine In) by the 5th Dimension was the #1 single, followed by Get Back by the Beatles. The #1 album was Blood, Sweat and Tears. Police removed a group from People’s Park near the Berkeley Campus causing one death. Dr. Timothy Leary was convicted and sentenced to 5-30 years for bringing marijuana from Mexico to Texas and failing to pay taxes on it. John and Yoko held a Bed Love-In in Toronto for world peace, harmony and love throughout the world.
In May the #1 album was Hair. Rolling Stone guitarist Brian Jones was found dead from accidental drowning with high blood levels of alcohol and barbiturates. In August Charles Manson and his followers committed bloody murder. The Woodstock Nation convened. In the fall the #1 single was Honky Tonk Woman by the Rolling Stones and the #1 album was Blind Faith by Blind Faith. Bob Dylan changes his sound and is backed by the Band. Monty Python’s Flying Circus airs in the US for the first time.
October 15th is Moratorium on War Day with huge marches in major cities. Rumors say that “Paul is Dead.” The #1 single is I Can’t Get Close to You by the Temptations and after that Green River by Creadance Clearwater Revival. Jim Morrison is arrested for public drunkenness on a flight although the charges are dropped. The #1 album by November is Abbey Road by the Beatles. There is a huge Washington War Protest on November 16th. On December 6th the Rolling Stones are at Altamont Speedway. They allow the Hell’s Angels to act as bodyguards. One fan is killed when he rushes the stage, others are injured. 89 Native Americans occupy Alcatraz. They want funding for cultural centers among other things. A Gallup poll in December results in the statement that 22% of college students have tried marijuana. Tiny Tim and Alice are married on the Johnnie Carson Show.
The more “mainstream” events of 1969 also reflect an era of deep change. In January, THE FTC PROPOSES TO BAN CIGARETTE ADS ON TV AND RADIO STATING THAT CIGARETTE SMOKING POSES A SERIOUS DANGER TO PUBLIC HEALTH. Lyndon B. Johnson bids farewell to Congress. Jack Griffith at Cal Tech first photographs the DNA double helix through an electron microscope. The trial of accused assassin of Robert Kennedy, Sirhan Sirhan, begins in LA. Throughout the year planes are hijacked to Cuba. Richard Nixon is inaugurated. The #1 single is Crimson and Clover by Tommy James and the Shondells. James Earl Ray pleads guilty to the assassination of Martin Luther King and is sentenced to 99 years in prison. At the Grammies, Best Record goes to Mrs. Robinson, while best album goes to By the Time I Get to Phoenix. In late spring Sirhan Sirhan is convicted to death in the gas chamber.
In May one of the bloodiest battles in Vietnam occurs, the “Battle of Hamburger Hill.” The FBI discloses that it authorized wiretaps of Martin Luther King right up to the time of his death. In June a rubella vaccine becomes available. Charles Evers is elected the first ever Black major of a biracial city. The #1 song is In the Year 2525 by Zager and Evans. Ted Kennedy drives off a bridge in Martha’s Vineyard at Chappaquiddick Island with Mary Jo Kopechne. She dies and he fails to report the incident for ten hours. On July 30th Neil Armstrong is the first man to walk on the moon. He utters the famous words, “The Eagle has Landed.” Jackie Onasis celebrates her 40th birthday. Hurricane Camille hits the Gulf Coast leaving 320 dead. MacDonald’s introduces the Big Mac. Ho Chi Minh dies at 79.
The first stage reduction of troops in Vietnam is completed in August. The #1 song is Sugar, Sugar by the Archies. Marcus Welby, MD and The Brady Bunch premiere on TV. A report is released which states that violence on TV leads to real life violence. 140,000 GE workers go on strike. The #1 song is October is Suspicious Minds by Elvis Presley. A Supreme Court decision says segregation in schools must end at once. Maxi skirts are shown. The President announces complete withdrawal of all troops but does not disclose a schedule for withdrawal. Sesame Street premieres.
In the fall the #1 song is Wedding Bell Blues by the 5th Dimension, the #1 album is Abbey Road by the Beatles. In November Wendy’s opens. By December 60,000 more troops have been pulled out of Vietnam.

Chapter 18

My 1969

My boss decided to leave the Head Start grant project. He appointed me his heir apparent so I was expecting a promotion and a substantial raise. On the strength of these expectations I bought a new car, a sports car, an Austin Healey Sprite. It looked cute but was really a cheap piece of shit (yes, my language was evolving). It crumpled like a tin can if anything so much as touch it. The front end was dented almost as soon as I registered it. Jonnie was driving and did not notice that the car in front had stopped. I shrugged it off, but did not report it to my insurance. It wasn’t too bad. Rich boy Jonnie did not offer to pay.

My promotion never materialized. The federal government decide not to renew four of the university grants. Our grant was one of the four. Apparently our praise/blame study did not wow them. Not only was I not promoted: I was once again unemployed. With a brand new car (which only someone raised in poverty would have purchased in the first place)! Ineligible for unemployment payment, federal grants being year-to-year contracts! Quel panic! I just did not know what to do. Without work I was free to smoke cigarettes all day, ashtrays full of butts, cigarettes barely within my budget as I had some savings. Looking for a job was definitely in order, but the job search was not going as well this time. I typed an updated resume and hauled out the old teacher clothes, but my new curly afro-style hair was not impressing employers. And I probably smelled like patchouli. Annie, since she worked retail, was often home days. She worked crazy retail hours. She wanted to go, to do, to hang out. In July we went to Newport to the jazz festival. This festival usually concentrated on classic jazz, but in 1969 they invited people like James Brown and Led Zeppelin, The town had no idea what they were in for. Annie had a black Malibu convertible that she loved. We set off one sunny July day. In Massachusetts we picked up two young hitchhikers who ended up being from the same street we lived on. This is the way things went in the 60’s.

We had no tickets to any of the events, and could not devise a way to get inside the fences. Sometimes we hung out near the fences to listen and watch through the links, but usually we wandered around town, or along the sea wall by the Newport “summer homes” (mansions), or at the beach.

So many people came that the town was overrun. Gas station owners parked cars in front of the rest rooms so that no one could get in. Restaurants put up signs, “no shirt, no shoes, no service” or “you cannot use the rest rooms unless you are a patron.” We, fortunately, met some people who let us use their motel bathroom for a small fee, but physically we were slightly dirtier and a lot less comfortable than usual.

The group we really wanted to see was Led Zeppelin. Late Sunday it was rumored that they were not coming. The rumor spread like wildfire. Someone told Annie that this was not true. They actually were coming. Everyone started to leave but Annie would not go. We inherited some tickets from people who were convinced the group would not appear. We entered the concert grounds for the first time and saw Paul Winter Group and B.B King. Around midnight, when the crowd had gotten pretty sparse, Led Zeppelin arrived. It was electric. We all stood on our chairs and rocked out. We left for home about 3 am. Annie was vindicated. I would never be allowed to forget this.

In August we went to Woodstock. We packed up the Austin Healey, clothing, food, borrowed tents, sleeping bags, and headed down the New York State Thruway to Yasgur’s farm with about 250,000 other people, another quarter of a million having already arrived there.

We weren’t allowed to get anywhere near the farm, had to park the Austin Healey along the side of a country road with cars lining the verges as far as the eye could see. You had to walk from there. We left everything locked in the car except my cigarettes and joined the freak parade. Oh, it was wonderful! All around us a whole hippie nation, young, in “high” spirits, each one more hip than the last, music pouring from speakers rigged to telephone poles, a sunny summer day. Part of something so huge, so much to see, gorgeous long-haired guys, no shirts, dirty blue jeans, sandals. Long-haired women all rigged out in long flowy dresses and beads and sandals, jeans and Mexican wedding shirts-headbands, arm in arm. Joints were passed, jugs of wine were shared, tabs of acid were dropped. It was better than any New York City Easter Parade, better than the Ascot races, a parade of a new world set to a rock beat. Jimi Hendrix’s version of “The Star Spangled Banner.” Bad things were rumored, but we did not see anything scary. We were peaking. The whole world was peaking.

We had walked for about an hour when cars started to come through again. Apparently the flood overcame the ability of the police to control it. We ended up riding on the roof of a station wagon, full inside, with more people on the tailgate. The sun went down on our new age caravan and eventually we climbed down and spent the night at a campsite in the woods with friendly strangers. A slice of bread handed to us by a compassionate soul was all we had to eat.

When we woke up it was raining. Started out as showers, soon a downpour settled in for the long haul. We had no umbrellas, were water soaked, our hair draggled around our faces, as was everyone’s. People still trying to be playful, but with slippery clay mud everywhere it go messy. Lit a cigarette, it turned soggy and broke apart after a few puffs. The road was the only place you could actually walk without sliding so we set out to walk back to the car far away down the country road. Annie had to go to work on Monday. The rain stopped, we dried out, but it remained overcast. Now two lanes of people, those walking out and those still walking in. Still a grand and interesting passage with everyone eyeballing everyone else and the music again from the speakers. Finally, the car, a quick snack and home, back to my unemployed reality.

 

Chapter 16 - With the Taylors

Sundays were spent back in Smithvale with my real family. It took only fifteen minutes to get there but all day to get back in the rhythm of the family. Life at the Taylor household went on much as it always had with a few changes. Felicity was married so she no longer lived at home, Tyler was in Vietnam, and Gertie was a new bride. Only four of the eight Taylors were living at home. We seemed to be split into two families, the grown ups and the kids. Robert, Emily, Rebecca, and Morgan were still home, past the Robert torture days, into the “In-a-Gadda-da-Vida” days. The revolution hit the younger four somewhat, the older three not at all. Robert had mutton chop sideburns and wore his hair longer; the girls wore flowered mini skirts and dresses with white go-go boots. Their hair was long and straight and their pant legs were wider. The styles in public schools were changing.
My family welcomed me, but they were withholding judgment. I still had a good job, I was evolving slowly, but I fit in less each time I visited. Even so Sundays unfolded as tradition demanded. We sat around the living room and chatted. We watched Felicity’s new baby, took turns holding and feeding the baby, we laughed and ate and celebrated being Taylors.
Our family was actually larger because Felicity came with Dean and the baby, Abby, Gertie and Jason came with their puppy, Waffles, and Tyler’s pregnant wife, Sara was usually with us, Tyler being always on our minds and in our conversation.
Augusta would cook Sunday dinner and then all of us “girls” would help: peel the potatoes, cut up the vegetables, set the table, clean the pots and pans. We no longer fit at the table and often had to eat buffet style. In summer we always ate outside on picnic tables, weather permitting, and sat around the semi-bare backyard in lawn chairs. Hobart’s grass was slowly coming back as backyard games died out.
In the summer of ’68 Hobart had to deal with a cement block cellar wall that was buckling. He was grateful to have new male energy in the family, and although he missed Tyler, Dean and Jason helped fill the void. They also helped with the cellar wall project. First they had to install jack posts in the basement to hold the house up while the wall was removed. Then they had to dig out the offending cellar wall to expose and remove the old cement blocks. Most could be reused with new mortar. They had to rebuild the wall, fill in along the outside and lower the house slowly back onto the new wall. This was a huge project and a hungry one, so lots of cooking was also required.
I kept going home, almost every Sunday, even though I had to wiggle my way back into the family each time, even though it became clear that my family approved less and less of my lifestyle. I helped with the cooking, sat around and talked, talked, talked, did dishes, set tables, and held Abby whenever it was my turn. I found my family hopelessly conservative and square, no revolution happening here, which should have been a clue that the cultural impact of the hippie movement was not quite as widespread as I imagined. I refused, however, to believe that my family reflected the American majority more closely than I did. I loved them, but felt that I was in the mainstream and they, in a little backwater somewhere. Felicity was still styling herself on Jackie Kennedy Onassis for heaven’s sake. Who’s judging whom?
Once in a while Annie came with me to visit my family or I went with her to visit her family. Annie’s family lived out in the sticks. She was the oldest in a family with ten kids. Most of her sisters and brothers were quite young. They thought we were as cool as we thought we were. At Annie’s house we played baseball with the kids or sat in the crowded kitchen and talked with her mom, Wilma. Her Dad, Harwin, would bustle in from his travels, order Wilma to find some papers he needed for one of his real estate deals and then disappear again. I think Annie’s family had more money, but less available cash than mine. Annie also had a brother who was born hydrocephalic and irreversibly brain damaged. He was treated like any other member of the family, dressed each morning and carried downstairs, but he could not sit up, could not feed himself, and would always wear diapers. Everyone lived his or her life around him, and all the care of him fell to Wilma, who fortunately was a cheerful and sassy soul. His disability affected every aspect of Annie’s family’s life. Annie took very few people home with her. She loved her family but her desire to escape was palpable. We didn’t go there often.
On Mondays, in our pretty apartment by the park, we would wake up to our jobs and our music and our friends, our movies, our concerts, our barhopping and our increasingly more frequent highs. We felt more at home with this life than we did with our own families.