What Love Looks Like It

There is another revival of “Gypsy” coming to Broadway. While purportedly the story of Gypsy Rose Lee’s life, it is really a story about her mother, Rose. A woman who has been painted as the ultimate stage mother. A striving, conniving force with which to be reckoned and someone perceived as ruining her children’s lives. Audra McDonald is playing Rose this time around. When asked about how she saw her character, she does not default to the stage mother trope, but rather sees Rose as someone who wanted more for her daughters than what life offered girls and women of the 1920s and 30s. She did not want for herself or them a life of mundane jobs, being a housewife and endless children.

It made me think. Both of the daughters showcased in “Gypsy” went on to have creatively and financially successful lives. It reminded me that there are all kinds of love. For most of us we want it delivered exactly as we imagine it to be in our minds. That is usually gentle, kind, affectionate, caring and nurturing. Wrapping each of us in soft cotton to break our fall as we navigate life. But love can also look like someone dreaming bigger dreams for you. Wanting for you what they did not have and believing that they can help you find it. Toughening you up so that you can survive in the world. Sometimes it works and sometimes it does not, but it is still love in a different form.

I had the perfect mother for me. She was funny, smart, fierce, independent, warm, snuggly, generous, patient and kind. She was always available. She was also a town without pity. If you wanted someone to wallow with you in sadness or upset, it was not her. A good listener and willing to sit with you as you spilled out your perceived hurts, slights and upsets, but when it came to allowing you to stay in victimhood, not a willing participant.  Her message is that you are the captain of your own ship and the master of your fate. Haul yourself up, dust yourself off, tap into your own worth and get on with it. The world is not here to make you happy. Only you can make you happy.

I am forever grateful, even for the times I so wished she would just take a moment or two to wrestle in the “oh poor me” mud bog and she did not. She was consistent. She was your champion, but not your emotional sponge. It was the best life lesson.

My mother also had dreams for me that were more her own than mine.  She wanted a world of success and triumph for me.  I have had that life, but it has not mirrored her dream scenario. I know she was puzzled by my direction, yet she was happy for me that I found a way that was mine. And that to me is love.

In the coming year may you examine your own world and find the love that you might have thought did not exist or did not match your pictures.  It is a worthwhile treasure hunt. Happy Holidays.