Page 89 - Philly Girl

Philly Girl 73

himself, he said. We flew him cross-country every six weeks
by himself at age six on United, and he was fine with that. At
that time, you could escort your child to his seat, meet the
assigned flight attendant, and have the other parent meet
the arriving flight to welcome your child. For Jesse, it was
a grand adventure. To my current and past San Francisco
friends, I was both Jezebel and Joan of Arc: How could I
abandon a child and husband for my own need to work and
advance myself? Was I divorcing Dennis? What the hell was
I doing?
I answered to no one, as usual. My father couldn’t get me
to come home from Hyannis when I was 19 and no one was
going to make me languish as a bored depressed housewife
in Silver Spring, Maryland. I just didn’t care what anyone
else thought about this decision.
My 40th gift of giving myself a meaningful life is one
of my proudest moments. Twenty-seven years later, when
my patients say, “I picked you because you have a PhD,” I
have myself, and, of course, the dastardly Cora Horowitz
(see “Not College Material”) to thank.