During my teen years I  had a terrible attitude. I overcame an esteem malfunction with an undeserved machismo and surly demeanor.  It was during this time my mother, concerned that my "id" wasn’t up to snuff, sent me to a shrink (Dr. Berg). It didn’t help me at the time but both mom and I learned a lesson from it.

This was during the mid-late sixties. Dr. Berg’s method was to discuss reality with me then call my mother in to tell her what she was doing wrong. I enjoyed the talks with Dr. Berg much more than my mother enjoyed the critique of her parenting. One assignment given to my mother by Dr. Berg was to have a civil discussion with me without reacting negatively to anything I might say. I was not to know about the assignment.

Mom, after significant-self talk about not getting upset no matter what, asked me to sit with her at the kitchen table one day when I got home from school. After I slouched into the chair opposite her, she started with how concerned she was that at a time I should be happiest, I was so unhappy (I don’t know where she got this. Most teenagers I’ve known suffer from all kinds of angst and emotional turmoil). She then asked me what I wanted to do upon graduating from high school. I think she was leading up to a discussion about how to set goals and achieve success and happiness. I designed my response, as most teenagers do, to invoke the opposite effect desired by the adult. I simply said, “I want to be a Hell’s Angel.”

I remember her immediate emotional and verbal eruption. In her words later, “I lost it!” She ranted at me with invectives about what an insane life goal this was for sometime. She finally summed it up with, “You need to get it together, young man!” She then realized the calm, rational discussion had become a chewing out with me looking even more sullen than prior to its start.

I do not remember exactly how the discussion ended but I was probably sent to my room to sulk. As I look back on this event I sometimes wish I could go back and slap the arrogance out of me, however, that would show that I’ve learned nothing from it. I remember that after the event, mother rarely confronted me about my misdeeds. She pretty much let me suffer the consequences of my bad attitude and behavior while trusting that, “This too shall pass.”

The lesson we learned was that you don’t have to treat your kids with vitriol to get them to grow up. You also have to let them make some decisions for themselves, good or bad, in order that they learn some lessons. You need to hold them to high standards but when they fail, still love them, but let them suffer the consequences. Too often, we take on our children’s failures on as our own. We then physically or verbally hurt them rather than letting natural consequences take their course. I eventually served in the military, finished college and have enjoyed a successful career. By allowing me to make my mistakes without passing judgment, Mom allowed me to succeed.

Years after I had survived being an adolescent ass and she had survived parenting one, mom enjoyed telling this tale on herself. We always had a good laugh about it. Today mom is in an Alzheimer’s home with little memory, let alone this event.  She may not be able to enjoy the memory now but I hope there is an existence after death in which she and I can laugh about it again. I will also remind her that she had done a good job of raising me; at least I'm not a Hell's Angel.