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Recently in Salon Mothers Who Think

DYR MOM: WY R YOU SO LAVEABL?
A nascent writer learns to cast spells.
By Gayle Brandeis
[11/10/99]

Grandma sees "Dogma"
A devout Catholic braves alleged blasphemy, much profanity and partial nudity to see Kevin Smith's latest -- and gives it a thumbs up.
By Jennifer Foote Sweeney
[11/09/99]

Grilling our young
The SAT test coaching industry goes after kindergartners. Little blank slates mean great big bucks.
By Jonathan Fox
[11/08/99]

What is a Jewish lesbian punk folk singer to do?
Neaten her crewcut, put on an apron and sell lots of Tupperware.
By Erin J. Aubry
[11/05/99]

The other woman
I can't wish she were dead; she may be dying.
By Jane Underwood
[11/04/99]

Complete archives for Mothers Who Think

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Marilyn Roth: I was Claire Starnes' and Precilla's roommate ... [but] I have a lot of Vietnam that is blocked out. Precilla would tell me stories about things we used to do and places we used to go and I don't remember anything.

I really didn't think about Vietnam until much later in years. I just put it in the back of my mind. The only time I would mention Vietnam is when I was in uniform. And people would say, "How come you're wearing a Vietnam patch?" And I would say, "Look at my records, I was in Vietnam." And that would bring back some memories, but then I would forget until next time.

Precilla Wilkowitz: When I got back, I had lost 40 pounds by nerves and improper diet. My sister used to say, "You just ignore things." Petty things didn't mean anything to me. People would say to me, "Don't you think [that woman's] dress is short?" and I thought that was ignorant. I had been to Vietnam. Those were not things that you thought about. If you did not have hot water that night, that was not important.

What I couldn't get over was color. In 'Nam, everything was brown and dirty and there wasn't any color. I came home for Christmas. And that first night when I came home, my mother found me asleep underneath the Christmas tree. Because of the lights. I couldn't get enough.

Karen Offutt: I got married and the husband I married, he wouldn't let me talk about Vietnam. He hated it because he had graduated from USC and he had orders for Vietnam, [but] he had a friend change them. I made him feel chicken and cowardly.

Nobody talked to me for all those years about Vietnam. It was until I divorced [my husband] in 1986. I had nightmares and I would wake up, sweating and fighting. I was always wounded or captured in my dreams, I guess it was to make up for the fact that I wasn't a real soldier. Then I started having anxiety attacks.

Before Vietnam, I was a sociable person, and when I came back, I just didn't want to socialize really. I didn't talk about anything. I was different. I would go to the store and I would be dressed up and someone would drop a can and I would hit the floor. If I was in a dressing room and someone slammed the door, I screamed. I was totally humiliated.

I had twins 15 months after I married my husband. One was born with cancer of the kidney and one was born with ADHD (attention deficient hyperactivity disorder). As soon as he could walk, he was diagnosed. He had some bone defects too. Then I had a daughter who had epilepsy.

In the late '70s, I went to a meeting they had in town for the Veterans of Foreign Wars. They were talking about all their kids' birth defects. And this one guy was talking about Agent Orange sprayings. And I said, "My kids are all messed up but it's not from Agent Orange because I was in Saigon."

He pulled out this aerial spraying map and he said, "Where were you?" I showed him. And he said, "Which year?" And I told him. He said, "That was the heaviest spraying year in the war in the area you were in." Many of us have memories of them spraying overhead and by trucks in the road, but it's just a hazy thing.

I don't know hardly anybody who doesn't have cancer. One of my friends was a nurse in Pleiku -- she had stomach cancer, thyroid cancer, breast cancer and breasts removed. She has it in her liver now.

My twins are 27 now. My son was just here from Oregon and we talked about it. I have these lumps on my body that just appear sometimes -- and he was showing me on his chest and under his arm where he has those too. My daughter and other son have them as well. I've had 11 pre-malignant polyps removed out of my colon. I've had two breast lumps that they've removed. I've got four more they are following right now.

My grandmother is 92 and is still really healthy and my parents are like Jack LaLanne. They are still working a three-and-a-half-acre place in California. They all live until their 90s.

Doris Allen: Good God. I still dream about [Vietnam]. I have PTSD -- post-traumatic stress disorder. I have trouble in crowded situations. I used to go to the jazz festivals. I can't go now. I don't go where there are a lot of people like that. I can't do that. The noises trigger it. I get nervous. Something in me just turns over in a big fear sort of thing. I still hit the floor sometimes when I hear loud bangs. And I have nightmares. I'm getting a little bit over that. I'm jumpy.

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