A heartwarming, wry, and often surprising collection of essays about the next rite of passage for Baby what happens when the kids leave home
As the baby boom generation ages -- the oldest are now turning sixty -- many of them are learning to deal with a whole new way of life, after the last child has finally moved out and they are, once again, alone. It's the same milestone their own parents faced, but as with so many other markers, this generation approaches it in a whole new way.
In this fascinating collection, journalist Karen Stabiner has assembled essays from thirty-one writers about their own experience with the empty nest. Parents whose children left home last week join those with grandchildren to explore how life changes once the offspring leave (unless, of course, they move back in again later). They represent the full range of experience -- from traditional nuclear families to single parents to gay parents to grandparents -- with humor, grace, and poignancy.
Karen Stabiner is a journalist and author of narrative non-fiction. She has co-authored the cookbooks Family Table, a collection of staff meal recipes and backstage stories from Danny Meyer’s Union Square Hospitality Group restaurants, and The Valentino Cookbook with Piero Selvaggio. Her feature articles and essays have appeared in The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times, as well as in the Los Angeles Times, Saveur, Travel & Leisure and Gourmet. Her work has appeared in Best Food Writing anthologies. Stabiner teaches at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism.
Most of these essays were really well written. Only one was actually off-putting, the one about the federal litigator parents who both worked 7 days a week, 10 hours a day but for some reason had 3 kids.
I happened across this one while I was browsing at the library and, since I'm still in the throes of empty-nesting myself, decided to give it a whirl. It's a compilation of essays, and the variety of stories and styles keep it fresh.
At least, for a while. After eight or ten of them, a certain predictability creeps in. Youngest or only child is going away to college, parent reminisces on the upbringing experience with a dollop of parent's own upbringing thrown in for ballast. At the end of the day (week month year decade), parent and child adjust and life is fine, for richer or for poorer, with or without spouses, in-laws, grandchildren. Oh, and the writer (funny how all these essayists are career writers--what are the odds?) continues to write, once even converting the now-empty bedroom into an office.
I just can't see myself plowing through the other 21 essays right now. Somehow, I don't think I'll see one where the child runs away on a motorcycle half-way through high school, leaving the empty-nester to convert the extra bedroom into a marijuana farm or an espionage center while launching a new career as Katie Couric or Emeril.
But since the writing is good, I may be back. I just need to remember that I've already read "My Cart," so next time start with "Time Traveler."
I read this book for a couple of reasons, one, because the last of my two children moved out over Christmas and the other, for research for a book I am writing. I found the essays quite useful in helping me to understand how I feel about the kids being gone. I wish there hadn't been so much emphasis on the college experience because to me that's just the dress rehearsal; there was only really one essay (by Ellen Goodman) that explored the years after college and how adult children and parents relate (this is what I was really looking for).
Still, I found many things to which I could say "Yes!" I walked away with a better understanding of the child that just left. It gave me much to ponder for the chapter in my book that will focus on this period.
I enjoyed the writing. There was one in particular by Jamie Wolf that showed me just how powerfully sensory description can tell a story. I marked off that chapter for future reference.
Not great -- but, mostly because I expected something else. Would have been nice to have known that the list of writers were all ...well, writers. They're big name, serious authors, with a need to explain their perspective on life -- it was only minimally helpful (for me) from the perspective of "how to deal... with kids leaving for college, or leaving for life"... I wasn't helped a bunch.
It was good to see how many different ways a couple or an individual can approach this "phase" of life. Only a few illustrations were accompanied with: "ah HA... they think that TOO!"; but, mostly the book gave me the feeling, that: "Whoa, at least we're NOT that bad off".
With my two girls in college and one about to graduate, I finally admitted it was time to read this book that had been recommended by a friend at work. I was really able to relate to the thoughts and feelings of the authors of these essays - and it's always good to know that you're not alone as you figure out how to adjust to the absence of the children you love more than anything else in the world. Even if it feels right and good, it's still hard.
It was comforting to read about other parents struggling through the same feelings I am. I especially loved the part about "the crying cure" from the mom who forced herself to cry and cry and cry about her son leaving home so that she would be able to not shed a tear at the airport when she dropped him off, as per his request.
I read this book with hopes it would help me garner some sympathy for my future mother in-law. At moments it did, but then the next thing I knew, I was annoyed. This book is touching - then indulgent - then sappy - then tender - then annoying - then repeat.
A MUST read for every empty nester (or almost empty nester) The collection of essays were oh so true and so well described that I found myself laughing out loud in recognition. Engaging and endearing stories that will pull at your heart strings.
The book would have been better with more socioeconomic and geographic variety in its contributors. Still, probably a good discussion starter for book clubs that have recent empty nesters.