I have daydreamed from time to time what it would be like to grow up with a mother who was Secretary of State, Madam Secretary actually, the one with Tea Leoni. Who would I have met as a child, refused to sit down to dinner with, rolled my eyes at when the Black Escalades pulled up to our house in Kalorama, that swanky neighborhood in N.W. DC?
As it is, I come from a working-class family rooted in Baltimore City. My great-grandparents emigrated to the US in the belly of a boat mind you, not on the upper deck. My father’s side eventually found their way to stability on the back of trains and steel, hard work and grit. But it wasn’t as rosy as it may seem in the telling. My great-grandfather literally died of heat stroke while working the burden at Bethlehem SteeI thrusting my teenage grandmother out of school and into the workforce.
My matriarchal grandfather was a drunk tailor. That is all that I know about him. I have his sheers, the grips still padded with the same old rags he used to protect his hands from blisters. His wife, my grandmother, raised 9 children on that salary. I have heard stories about a bookie business run out of a shoe store and rumors of murder.
Both sides raised their families in narrow, 2-bedroom row homes, the kind with the marble steps which my grandmothers got down on their hands and knees and scrubbed every Saturday. My mom and dad grew up blocks from each other; they met in the 5th grade. Both sides of my family were poor, over-extended, and under-educated. It’s all very muddy, and so not Madam Secretary.
Nonetheless, my parents did ok, and I had a happy childhood. But I am not one of those kids whose grandmother had an insatiable wanderlust and took me with her on adventures around the world fueling my dreams of being a photojournalist, or whose father was a critically acclaimed author who could help me get published. Yet here I am.
I am surrounded by others on a daily basis who have done way better merely because of their family connections, not because they were more talented or experienced. It’s difficult to maintain your confidence in this environment. I’m not saying that pedigree or privilege is a free ticket to success, but it certainly is a discounted one. Okay, I’m just a little bitter. I can’t help but wonder what might have been if everything was different, if everything weren’t so real. All. The. Time. We can’t control how we got into this world, but that doesn’t mean that success is out of reach. It’s just harder.
Renny Run is a dual-action tool--one to help your little ones to grow and see themselves, from a young age, in a positive future in spite of their environment (or because of it), and one especially for you. While trying to do your best to keep your little ones’ confidence up, we can still sit back and daydream about what might have been if everything had been different, and fight for either a new attitude, acceptance, or the will and mettle to carry on.
I truly believe in Renny Run, our team, and our mission. Preach. I’m done now. Here is a great pick me upper. I just danced to it three times in my living room. My neighbors might have seen me, and I don’t care.
Take care,
Betty
Jon Batiste--FREEDOM
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YHVC1DcHmo
