|
|
| |
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
 |
|
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
 |
GREAT MOMENTS IN MOTHERING Learning to Fly by Madeleine Albright 
My mother was hyperprotective—she hovered over me. In 1947 I was 10 years old, and we lived in Yugoslavia, where my father was the Czech ambassador. I had a governess who gave me lessons, and I would play with the children of other diplomats. It was a pretty limited life. We'd moved around a lot, so I couldn't go to the regular school until the next year; I'd gotten ahead of myself. So my mother and father made the decision to send me away from our very close, loving family to a Swiss boarding school, and it was up to my mother to take me there.
I was a very serious child, and obedient. (I always thought when I wrote my memoir I would start with "I was born an adult.") But I did not want to go. How would I manage? I didn't speak a word of French. My way of resisting was to develop a rash. I don't know whether it was psychosomatic or a genuine rash. But my mother, who was unexpectedly resolute, said, "We're going." On the flight to Zurich, I was crying so much that my mother's whole arm was wet. Next morning in Zurich I told her, "I can't move my legs." Oh, she said, "Zurich is a center for polio research—we'll find a doctor." All of a sudden I could get out of bed. Great Moments in Mothering continues…
From the May 2006 issue of O, The Oprah Magazine. Subscribe now!
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
