Our mothers and our fathers, often set the stage for our lives

We don’t choose the starting line. The family and life circumstances into which we are born is happenstance. Reading “Straight Life: The Story of Art Pepper,” a book described as ‘sheer horror’ and the ‘saddest autobiography ever written’, I’m reminded of my more fortunate start. Pepper was a jazz musician, born to a runaway, 14-year-old mother: drunk, violent, and mostly absent. It gets worse, a lot worse. Pepper’s extraordinary musical talent might have lifted him out of bad trouble, but it was not to be.

It got me thinking about how the people closest to us, in particular our mothers and our fathers, often set the stage for our lives. I am in the large club of people who believe they have the best parents in the world. My father, Ken Walker, wrote this column under the name W. Gifford-Jones, MD for 50 years, and readers will appreciate the good fortune my brothers and I feel, but what about our mother, a less well-known figure?

When asked if she has any ‘wise words’ to share, she, in turn, reflects on her own parents.

“I was blessed to have landed on this planet with many advocates before me who used ‘wise words.’ I did not appreciate them at the time and sometimes balked at their strictures, but eventually I learned that what they offered me, sometimes wordlessly, always by example, would provide a benefit I ought not to ignore.”

“My father, a corporate executive, became known by colleagues for his ‘integrity’, a word meaning strong moral principles. As a girl, I watched his behaviour, at home and in business. In time, I understood what that word meant, and I loved its strength and simplicity, as well as my father. I tried to emulate him.”

“Similarly, the word I would learn to apply to my mother was ‘rectitude’, correct behaviour, or thinking. I saw that it made for a happy marriage. It was not easy to measure up to her standard, but she was insistent.”

“Those two words, thankfully, set me off on the right path. And I soon learned another word that was unexpected at the time. I set off for university in 1951, long before Women’s Lib, but I landed at a women’s college which was established to offer women ‘self-sufficiency’. Its motto was Non Administrari Sed Administrare. I learned during those four years to be true to myself, and to establish independence of thought and behaviour, against all odds.”

“Then came along one Ken Walker. It was not long before he showed me the meaning of ‘compassion’. I watched him over many years exhibit absolute devotion to each and every one of his patients, in his office practice and in surgery. I worried about his own health. When he suffered intense criticism by colleagues and society in general for his forward medical thinking, he taught me another word, ‘tolerance’. This one I found very difficult at times, but he remained astute, and I could not argue.”

“There are enough ‘wise words’ to go around. Like ‘truth’ and ‘virtue’ and more. The world would be a better place if we used any and all of these words. They are so simple but so hard to find today.”

“This is my contribution to ‘wise words’. May it end with the word ‘health’, which blesses me at 93, and I wish it to all.”

I can only say, “Thank you, Mom,” and “Thank you, Dad.” How tragic that some are born less lucky, but when encountering them, it’s an opportunity to reflect, and hopefully, an inspiration to be a better person and make the world a better place.

This column offers opinions on health and wellness, not personal medical advice.