“I’m nice, but a little bit mean today,” my granddaughter said. In her own way, she was saying that she felt angry.  Laney is two-and-a-half.

“It’s okay to feel mad,” I said, stroking her bangs to one side. I reminded her that I felt mad at our dog for not coming when called.  “It’s just not okay to be mean,” I explained, “but you can be mad.” I wondered if she could understand the distinction.

Many years ago, when I was young, I decided to be the good child. Maybe I saw certain advantages in it. My sister had a bolder personality and got in trouble some.

I was a quieter soul, an observer.

I remember being given a small necklace. It had a white marble pendant with a gold band around its center. In fine script, The Golden Rule was engraved on the band. The simple ethical code made a profound impression on me.

Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you.

My family in 1962

In some ways, trying to be good was connected to a deep love for my father. My dad was and is a safe, wise, and approachable man, and I was quite sure that he’d love me no matter what. Still, being compliant is often about winning approval.

I tried to do everything “right,” but I wasn’t perfect. I had a bit of gumption and remember getting spanked.

“You, got spanked?” My husband goaded. “What for?Continue reading