Nan Cochran
— 25th — (1999) Bill Clinton
IT HAS been a wonderful twenty-five years that leaves me feeling about thirty-two years "young" inside, despite a well-worn body and an increasingly cynical view of human nature. Elliott and I decided in 1986, after finishing our medical residencies in Seattle and a year after the birth of our first daughter, to move to Vermont to try and live a simpler life in what we expected would feel like the "break-down lane." If this is the break-down lane, I empathize with those of you who are trying to pass. We built a wonderful house on a spectacular piece of land which backs up on the Appalachian Trail. We can mountain bike and cross-country ski for literally miles out the back door, while at the same time working at satisfying careers in medicine and teaching at Dartmouth. However, our two rockers on the west porch are virtually never occupied since we are always on the move, driving to the cello, violin, piano lessons, and soccer and ice hockey practices with our three girls, aged thirteen, eleven and eight. The highlights of this period have definitely been the births and lives of our "wildcats," who have very different temperaments and interests despite the common denominators of being assertive, outgoing, bright, athletic, and expressive of all their emotions. They have been the joy of our lives — I wish that we could freeze them in time at their current ages. They can now accompany us on all our adventures, carrying their own backpacks and hiking long distances in the wilderness or skiing down anything in sight but more importantly, they still love us and tell us so daily. Our decision to bring them up in the country has given them an idyllic childhood and a close affinity to nature and they are thriving.
I sometimes feel the women in our transitional generation were sold a bill of goods, being told that we could "do it all." I have no doubt that we are highly competent, but it is not feasible to have a full-time professional life and be fully engaged in family life at the same time. I have struggled to limit my hours at work to school hours so that I can actually enjoy my children and be with them as much as possible. Whenever my boss suggests that it is high time I started climbing the academic ladder, I reiterate that there is nothing up there which is appealing to me. Occasionally, when I am feeling particularly insecure about meeting the girls' needs, I ask, "How do you think it works for mothers to have a career and a family at the same time?" They respond with a quizzical look, failing to understand the question.
Fortunately, I am married to a great husband who has boundless energy and shares the same commitment to spending lots of time with family. Unfortunately, our relationship doesn't get as much attention as it deserves and I look forward someday to a simpler life together. I also look forward to reinvolving myself in political and environmental work and to reading and reflecting more (maybe we will even break in those rocking chairs).
My old boyfriend from Harvard, Hugh Lawrence, died this past year after being diagnosed with a brain tumor eight months previously. It was very sobering to visit him to say good-bye and to realize how brief our sojourn is on this earth. As a geriatrician and internist at a V.A. hospital, death is no stranger but seeing a close friend die had a profound impact. He felt that if he had it to do all over again, he would make all the same choices. I hope we can all say the same at the end.