By Susan Diamond
“In this house, young lady, we never hold a grudge.” That’s my dad firmly reminding my 6-year-old self not to
be mad at my mother.
It’s sixty years later, and I think about my family rule every single day. There’s always someone to be mad at. There’s always a hurtful experience to tempt me into holding a grudge. But I don’t do it though I’ve come close.
As a kid, I got into my share of trouble. My bicycle was my ticket out of the neighborhood. I’d travel miles on my lavender Schwinn with the white banana seat. There were no bike helmets in those days, no phones, and no tracking
devices. Free-range freedom in an era when a call to the police from a nosy neighbor couldn’t get your parents arrested.
After one such adventure to the park, where I went cruising down a (very) sloped hill, I landed bruised and battered in a parking lot. A nice man brought me and my bike home, where he explained to my parents how he found me and told my parents “not to be mad at Susie. She’s just doing what kids do.”
He was preaching to the choir. My parents...READ MORE
