In our home, upon a wall of the room with all of the books, and there are more than a few books, there are a pair of photographs hanging.  The photos are of my wife taken when she was seven years old, and of myself when I look to be about five.  We decided to display those images because they trigger a memory of a time, of a self that was “innocent,” — a time of pure expectation and hope.  That youthful, unmarked self still lives within, along side other selves — juxtaposed selves marked by disappointment, terror, betrayal, and the terrible discovery that much that you thought was incontrovertibly true is disposable, not-to-be-relied-upon.

I think memory serves us well, to assess the arc of one’s life, to understand the path that one has taken.  As a male, the particular relationship that I had with my mother, has been determinative, shaping my attitudes and expectations in ways that I’ll never understand.  I am sure the same is true, for a female as well.

Now I am a grandparent with the privilege to observe day to day, the care given to a weeks old baby girl by my daughter.  The infant is 100% dependent for nourishment, comfort, safety on the solicitude and efforts of her mother.  And as she grows older, the same will be true of the child’s psychological development.  And what more can a parent give, than what he or she has?  Parents usually do their best.  Our “best” has blind spots, unconscious flaws that will be passed on, as a contagion to the child.

Having said all of that is to offer for your enjoyment and reflection this tune by Pink Floyd.  The lyrics of Mother have been exhaustively analyzed by others.  I think as one listens, one cannot help be moved to tears by the tragedy and the wonder of being alive.  I feel overcome, on the verge of tears when I listen.  And the mid-song guitar solo is quite magnificent.

Every parent, makes a promise to the child, a promise which they cannot possibly keep.  Nevertheless it is a necessary fiction, one that engenders hope, passion for life, the future well being of the maturing child.  The fiction that persists for every generation is the same fiction that builds a wall.

Hush now, baby, baby, don’t you cry
Mama’s gonna check out all your girlfriends for you
Mama won’t let anyone dirty get through
Mama’s gonna wait up ’til you get in
Mama will always find out where you’ve been
Mamma’s gonna keep baby healthy and clean

Enjoy the youtube video.  Lyrics follow the video.

Mother

By Pink Floyd

Mother, do you think they’ll drop the bomb?
Mother, do you think they’ll like this song?
Mother, do you think they’ll try to break my balls?
Ooh, aah, mother, should I build the wall?

Mother, should I run for president?
Mother, should I trust the government?
Mother, will they put me in the firing line?
Ooh, aah, is it just a waste of time?

Hush now, baby, baby, don’t you cry
Mama’s gonna make all of your nightmares come true
Mama’s gonna put all of her fears into you
Mama’s gonna keep you right here under her wing
She won’t let you fly but she might let you sing
Mama’s gonna keep baby cozy and warm

Ooh, babe, ooh, babe, ooh, babe
Of course mama’s gonna help build the wall

Mother, do you think she’s good enough for me?
Mother, do you think she’s dangerous to me?
Mother, will she tear your little boy apart?
Ooh, aah, mother, will she break my heart?

Hush now, baby, baby, don’t you cry
Mama’s gonna check out all your girlfriends for you
Mama won’t let anyone dirty get through
Mama’s gonna wait up ’til you get in
Mama will always find out where you’ve been
Mamma’s gonna keep baby healthy and clean

Ooh, babe, ooh, babe, ooh, babe
You’ll always be a baby to me

Mother, did it need to be so high?