There’s another movie you all know with a classic line - not literature but part of a folk psyche thing that everyone recognizes and that I’ve been saying since people started giving me advice about my son Matt - more like advice to me on how to behave. (Take it easy, relax, he’s okay, you’re okay, don’t knock yourself out, etc.)

Remember When Harry Met Sally? Sally’s woman friend was having an on-going hopeless affair with a married man and she knew she should break it off but she couldn’t . Everyone kept giving her advice, to quit, to leave, to find someone new, and her response has become a classic. Everyone uses it. (It really is a form of denial, a blind insistence on ignoring the facts.)

“You’re right. You’re right, I know you’re right.”

It doesn’t do much good until it sinks in.

Oh, Happy Valentine’s Day.

There’s still an hour left of today - which was Kate’s birthday. Matt’s event and this passage of Kate’s have made me ponder my children’s past - and mine. Not reminisce, more like ponder. More thought, less pleasure. I took pleasure in them, my children; I’m not so pleased with me. How did I do as a mother? Did I get a passing grade? Who’s counting?

It’s not as if I have a lot of time on my hands to go into this at any depth. I’m spending my time at the hospital with Matt, or else slogging to and from by subway and bus and in between through slush and ice and snow with wet, precarious feet. (I guess I need new boots.)

When I get home I’m not good for much. Not thinking, not cooking, not eating, barely functioning. I have an imperative for this. It’s a quote from Moonstruck. Cher says (to Nicolas Cage), “Snap out of it1”

I’ll try.