That Nice Girl with the Dogs
She grew up poor on a dirt farm, the oldest girl in a family of sixteen children. To protect herself from cruel older brothers, and from the gibes of better-off kids at school, she came up with rules for self-protection. She passed them on to me, saying she wanted to prepare me for the world.
The foremost rule was: “Don’t show any weakness.” She reinforced this lesson by appearing annoyed when I was scared or hurt and needed comfort or protection. She offered guidance of sorts by telling me to put on a brave face and not to whine, but then just stood back and let me fend for myself. She shrugged when my first boyfriend left me for another girl and I was heartbroken. She said “Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve.” When I complained that my English teacher had scolded me in front of the class, she said, “Don’t let it get under your skin.” She was trying, in her way, to be a good mother.
