For Those Who Stepped In When Mom Wasn't There

Rethinking Social Deprivation on Mothers Day

I have such mixed emotions about Mothers Day. So much pain. So much love. Let me tell you a strange story that might resonate with anyone who lost their mother and never quite felt the same…

Mother's Day stirs mixed emotions within me. I suspect I’m not alone. If you lost your mother, feeling a void that nothing seems to fill, then this personal story and reflection might resonate…

Beloved Father Moment #1,372

It's late, I'm cozied up with a Tom Perrotta novel, ready to call it a night. Suddenly, my teenage daughter bursts in, full of energy, and proposes a trip to the gym. At 11:38 PM.

We're members of a 24/7 gym, and I've made a pact: anytime they want to work out, I'm in. No questions asked. Why? Because I'm hell-bent on instilling a habit of regular exercise. I want them to move from contemplating exercise and wrestling with self-control to designing a thoughtless, daily routine. Just like brushing teeth upon waking.

So, despite the late hour, I mix my BCAA amino acid + coconut water electrolyte mix into a water bottle and off we go. We work out until 12:49 PM, observing the interesting characters that frequent the gym at this hour.

The next morning, I woke up to a text from my daughter. 'Thanks for coming to the gym. You're the best.' It's a testament to the bond we continually invest in - 17 years and counting.

I want to give my daughters everything I wish I had.

Flashback to My Senior Year of High School

After failing a tryout for baseball, realizing I am too fearful to play football, too uncoordinated to play basketball, and not really gelling with the wrestling team, I chose one of the only remaining sports - Track and Field.

For some strange reason, my lanky body was strong and I gravitated toward the shot put. We didn’t have a coach who knew field events so I went to the local library and sent out interlibrary loans for frame-by-frame photographs of European Olympic Shot Put champions. This is before email and Google. This was a pain in the ass. In a few weeks, I received a massive manila envelope with black and white images that I taped to my bedroom walls (after removing Def Leppard and Anthrax posters).

I also found a sporting store that had a single metallic green shot put and rope carrying bag for sale. It cost $85 but after asking how long it has been sitting on the shelf, talked them down to $15.

From that day onward, I carried that 12 pound ball in a bag to school. I practiced for hours on soccer fields with my yellow Walkman attached by belt clip to my shorts. Other high school kids would drive by to spend time with friends and then see me hours later upon returning and honk at me. I remember, Doug Okun, stopping his car, standing by the fence, and playfully yelling, “You’re still here? Todd, you better be good after all this work.” And eventually, after months of teaching myself the biomechanics, I was.

It’s the kind of sport where no fans attend. A boy with trying to throw a metal as far as he can. By the time my two years of high school finished, I was all-county, made it to the New York State finals, and won a small college scholarship.

Michelle Carter, the master - here

Here’s what I remember most from those days: not a single family member every attended a track meet. My mother passed away. My father moved away to live with his second family. My grandmother was too old to sit in the bleachers for multi-hour long meets (my event only lasted 12 minutes at most). My twin brother, also on the team, didn’t come to watch. So those stands were empty of biological family.

What happens when you don’t have much family? You have to learn in the most inefficient way possible - trial-and-error.

My Big Moment

Each year, there was Sports Night. A celebration of athletes in every sport at East Meadow High School. My grandmother wasn’t interested in sports and told me if I wanted to go, I was on my own. So I got dressed. I wore my athletic outfit because, well, it was Sports Night. This sounds naïve but you might not understand the simple omissions when adult figures are absent.

No portal of wisdom on demand, where questions are asked and answered.

No social norms being passed down of what you should or ought to do.

No support for the overactive nervous system that is hard to control.

I drove alone to Sports night walked into the high school and noticed that every boy was in slacks, a button down shirt, and tie. As for me? I was in red, white, outlandish Ocean Pacific shorts with a tank top of a poorly drawn Godzilla on a surfboard.

Kids and adults smiled. They thought I was rambunctious. Intentionally flouting social conventions. When in fact, I had no idea this was an event you get dressed up for.

I sat in the crowd next to friends. Everyone cracking up at my outfit, patting me on the back, squeezing my arms, joking how messed up I am. The proceedings were highlighted by boys and girls winning awards. If you played on 1 varsity sport, stand up. Then 2 varsity sports. Then 3. Then coaches spoke about most improved and top players - who after being named, walked to the front of a packed auditorium to claim trophies.

The Track and Field coach took the mic and mumbled about a player who was terrible when he started. However, he would not quit. He carried notebooks and pens and photographs. He tried the long jump, the high jump, the triple jump, the discus, and then he found something that clicked - the shot put. At this, my adjacent seat mates punched me in the arm and said, I think this is about you. He announced me as the MVP of not just the winter track team but the spring track team. Everyone started clapping and I pushed my way through the aisle in a tank top and shorts among well-dressed audience members. I went on stage held two trophies as audience members pointed at my clothes.

When the night ended, I walked alone to my car. Very attuned to other kids arriving and departing in their parents embrace. It was one of those defining moments - which one of these kids is not like the others?

I put the trophies on my dresser and was fully aware that there is a benefit to being on my own - non-normative thinking. I never knew how this would play out. How many problems this would cause. Answer: many. How many accomplishments it would lead to. Answer: many.

The Honest Reframe

The story I told myself for years: I was on my own. But not really. My girlfriend at the time was on the track team. She always told me I didn’t need luck. And would try to be there when I threw. She motivated other members of the team to fill the stands.

My Aunt Naomi regularly called, asking whether I won this week.

Back then, the local Long Island, New York newspaper, Newsday, included the results of high school track meets. My friends would cut out sections that included my name and taped it to the outside of my locker, for everyone to see. This was how they expressed pride and enthusiasm - and it worked.

My aunt and uncle who lived on Long Island would call to tell me they saw me in the newspaper.

My coaches used to hug me constantly. Telling me how I kicked ass.

On the morning High School announcements, someone shared the sporting results from the weekend through a loudspeaker that penetrated every room. If my name was mentioned, the people in homeroom would go nuts until my face turned red.

My grandmother would ask, “Well, did you win?” She hated sports. And yet, she smiled hard when asking. And If I won, she said, “Of course you did.” And when I lost, with a wink, she said, “Well, you can’t win EVERYTHING!”

When I was 17, I had a scarcity mindset. I paid too much attention to what I was missing.

This week, the week I turn 50 years old, I realize that I have never been bereft of social support. On Mothers Day, Fathers Day, my birthday, I remember them. I appreciate them. I know that I wouldn’t have made it this far without them. And I wish everyone the same…and hope in some way, I offer reciprocation for the motivational fuel given to me.

And for my three daughters, Chloe, Raven, and Violet, I try to give them everything I wish I had and more.

Thanks for reading this ode to motherhood, fatherhood, and the characters who step up to take their places at the right time.

Let me know how this resonates with you.

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