Dear OHMC Friends,
In 1983, I attended the funeral of an aged relative. There, I had the opportunity to talk with her son, who was then 74 years old. I was curious about the everyday details of his early life: where they lived, what they ate, when they spoke Yiddish, when they spoke English. However, he only wanted to talk about one thing — that his mother and father always favored his older sister. She got the support. She got the praise. He got none of it. They were always undercutting him, belittling him, angry at him.
Though we didn’t talk about it that day, I already knew some “facts” about him. In his twenties he met a woman his parents did not approve of, eloped, moved far away to her home town, and lived a seemingly comfortable life, raising four children. I also knew he rarely wrote, talked with, or visited his parents and siblings.
I was shaken by what he told me — partly because of the vehemence of his resentment towards his parents and how it seemed to overwhelm all other memories, and partly because I knew I had that seed of resentment in me as well, though I believed that mine was not so easily exposed.