Chapter 1
Miami, Florida: Motherhood, Woman’s Lib and The Hippie Era Coming to an End
“We’re all on a spiritual journey but many of us are fast asleep and now you know why snoring is so annoying…”
The year was 1973 and I was twenty-four years old. The sun was setting on the Hippie Era and the Vietnam War. Richard Nixon was President. Spiro Agnew his sidekick. Watergate had burst into the nation’s consciousness. G. Gordon Liddy became a household name.
I was a wife and mother living in a small rented house on a sleepy, dead-end street in Coconut Grove, Florida. At that time, Coconut Grove, Miami Beach and Miami still had the skyline from those fabulous boom days of the 1920’s. Coconut Grove was an “artsy hamlet” where live-a-boards were found bobbing on their sailboats in the small marina. Everyone knew one another. The pace was slow. A lot of “head shops” fronted Main Street and the Oak Feed Store was a terrific, new, little health food market.
Up the coast, on Miami Beach, the sounds of Yiddish were heard from the older retirees riding their rocking chairs on the balconies of Ocean Drive’s tired looking Art Deco Hotels. The Goodyear Blimp lazily floated over the beaches, which created a flashback to the 1930’s.
The City of Miami seemed relegated to becoming a summery ghost town as the last of the tourists left for northern abodes. It felt like a sleepy, humid place, kissed by the turquoise warm, waters of the Gulf Stream. I wore jeans. My child was wearing “real “ cloth diapers under his denim overalls and tie-dyed shirt. I didn’t use Pampers (only the real goods for my first born). At least three times a week I would load up his shiny new red wagon with bags of dirty laundry. Demian, my dimpled 1 year old, would sit on top like a king perched on his throne. And off we would go to the local laundromat down the street.
It was a strange time to be a housewife. MS Magazine had hit the news-stands and women nationwide were burning their bras, going to work, eliminating marriage bands, husbands and children from their vocabularies. The newest buzzwords were CAREER, CAREER and CAREER. Most of my friends were still single, sleeping around or living with their boyfriends.
Demian had an unique situation. He was a child with a stay-at-home mom and a father who painted beautiful planetary-scapes inspired by the newly released NASA photographs from Mars. It was an exciting, colorful time. Somehow I felt out of the loop, like a throw back to a black and white 1940’s movie.
That’s when I met Mr. and Mrs. Chow. They had recently moved from Hong Kong to downtown Miami, where they taught Chinese Watercolor Painting. Mr. Chow also taught Wu Style Tai Chi Ch’uan. The first time I saw Tai Chi was in 1968 at the Pacific Palisade Park in Santa Monica. I was watching a group of students and their teacher practicing, I felt a strong connection to the slow, yet lyrical movements. However, I was 19 and had no confidence in myself. I didn’t think I could learn this ancient martial art form, even though all the other students were my age. So there I stood watching and yearning from the sidelines.
It was when I called Mr. Chow to enroll in his class that I realized Demian had become my teacher. Having Demian in my early twenties taught me how to have self-confidence. If I could give birth naturally and raise this tiny, innocent infant to a healthy pre-toddler…I certainly could learn Tai Chi!
During my pregnancy I would hold my belly and have “talks” with my child. Little chats on how one day he would be with me “on the outside world”. I remember promising my six month fetus that I would love, nurture, protect and teach him as best I could. I felt myself going into a deeper place within my soul. It was, as if, I was exploring some unknown dark territory and had turned on a flashlight. I suppose birthing and raising a child forced me to go into my core space-of-being, the place where I sometimes needed to slay the ego demons and re-discover my higher-self.
In 1972 the year Demian was born, hospitals in Miami never had natural childbirths and definitely were not permitting husbands in the delivery room. I searched for an Obstetrician who would be sensitive towards my desire to have a natural birth with my husband, Leon by my side.
I was fortunate in finding Dr. Mella. With his support, childbirth lessons and reassurance from Leon that he wouldn’t faint…we received permission from Baptist Hospital to allow us to become the first couple to be in the delivery room having a natural birth!
Lamaze classes were great. I loved the breathing techniques that were very similar to the yoga breath. I ate healthy, exercised, practiced yoga, created artful mobiles and wall hangings for my baby’s room. At that time in our lives, we had moved back to Miami after living in Santa Monica, California where we attended our respective schools and joined anti-war protestors at U.C.L.A. It was an amazing time to be part of that unique era.
In 1971 the earthquake hit with a roar. There was too much rocking and rolling for this 22 year-old, first-time pregnant woman. That’s when I decided I wanted terra firma for my baby. So after Leon’s graduation from Art Center College of Design we came back to the family homestead in South Miami. During my pregnancy we lived with Leon’s parents. They were in their early 40’s. A beautiful, vivacious couple that embraced me into their life and hearts from the moment we met.
On the afternoon of April 28, 1972 I was in Baptist Hospital’s delivery room. In between deep diaphragmatic breaths I looked up towards Leon and realized I was not only pushing our child into this world but we were also pushing for hospital policy changes. I felt as if I was between heaven and earth. The birthing process was such an incredible “inner and outer body” experience. With the help of the breathing I was able to ride the contractions as if they were waves in the ocean. I remember shortly before Demian’s head crowned I actually felt myself floating above my body in the delivery room and watched the scene below, as if I was seeing a movie with me as the main character. The entire process was a miracle. Leon was a trooper. He didn’t faint and all the nurses congratulated him on his coaching. There were lots of tears as we welcomed Demian into our lives.
As I gazed at my innocent, beautiful infant I instantaneously felt I would find the courage to overcome my fears so that I could create a safe and nurturing environment for him to thrive in. Having his presence in my life gifted me the ability to view the world differently. As if I were seeing everything for the first time.
I remember when Demian was six weeks old, during his nap I would lie under trees to see which leaves created the most interesting light shadows as the sun filtered through and listened to the wind moving through their leaves. It’s as if I were looking out through Demian’s eyes and seeing everything for the first time. After his nap I placed him on a blanket beneath the trees and Demian kicked his chubby little legs with such excitement and vigor as he watched Mother Nature's light and sound show.
It was a glorious time in my life. I felt as if I was Alice in Wonderland disguised as a mother and housewife. But how do you share with your friends whose noses are at the grindstone as they prepare for their bar exams, and MBA studies, those tender and special moments that fill a Mom’s day?
