Like Rain on Parked Cars, Chapter 5 – Which Is Best
Statue of Benjamin Franklin on campus of University of Pennsylvania, Author MatthewMarcucci, (PD)
“For we walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Cor. 5: 7).
“Which is best?” That was Aretha’s constant inquiry – whether as to books, magazines, housing, clothing, schools, or cities.
I tried to explain that “best” was, for many things, a relative term, dependent on the criteria of the individual making the comparison. Aretha would not be satisfied with so mealy-mouthed a response.
For Aretha, the ivy league University of Pennsylvania was the penultimate, her symbol of excellence.
America’s first university, this venerable Philadelphia institution traces its history to a trust established in 1740. Since first purchased by a group which counted among its members Benjamin Franklin, the school grounds have given rise to a highly reputed business school, medical school, and teaching hospital.
Aretha’s goal, often repeated to me, was to attend Penn. Meanwhile, she struggled with high school math and biology.
Aretha’s school difficulties were not at first apparent to me. Aretha did her best to gloss over these, displaying with great pride the English papers on which she did well, carefully omitting mention of the tests she had failed.
The fault was not Aretha’s. Until removed from her mother’s custody, she had attended (when at all) inner city schools plagued by violence, teen pregnancy, and lack of resources. As Aretha said, “You got an ‘A’ just for bein’ present.” It was a reflection of the generation gap that I should be astonished her inner city school had a nursery.
Now in a suburban school, with a stiffer curriculum, Aretha found her grades plummeting. This produced panic in her. Aretha wanted with all her heart to be someone, to do something that mattered to the world. That possibility was rapidly fading before her eyes.
Gently, I suggested tutoring to her. The house mother suggested tutoring to her. Counselors at her school, I am sure, suggested tutoring to her. Aretha resisted. Alone in her room, she would wrestle with the materials, finally throwing her books against the wall in frustration.
This was a girl teased for reading too much. This was a girl articulate in defending others. This was a girl who preferred business magazines to gossip rags. This was a girl who could imagine becoming a lawyer.
It slowly became clear that Aretha had as much chance of attending Penn as she did of walking on the moon. What preyed on my mind was the thought that there were hundreds of thousands like her, if not more.
I tried hard to compensate for the deficiencies in Aretha’s education and upbringing.
I bought her a study guide on standardized testing, along with various business magazines, a book of real life heroines, an inspirational plaque. I brought fudge to the group home, posters, flowers, anything I could think that might encourage the girls.
Since Aretha was a fan of author, John Grisham, I picked up several of his novels for her. We went clothes shopping, browsed through bookstores, watched videos together.
We attended a legal seminar on race and gender together, shared popcorn at the movies, participated in an open house at a local college, visited Philadelphia’s African American Museum, and the Archaeology Museum when Aretha expressed an interest in Egypt.
When she earned a “B” grade in biology, I got her a star pendant.
We ate at pizza parlors, burger joints, and other fast food spots throughout the city. We discussed Aretha’s school activities, racism, boys, recent violence in West Philadelphia, and a high profile hip hop singer.
We even made dinner together (a desperate act on my part, since I do not cook).
Perhaps all this was presumptuous on my part, beyond my capabilities. Perhaps it was not my role, not my responsibility. I took it on anyway, as best I could. Someone had to help her.
And Aretha tried so hard. She dreamed of working on Wall Street, of someday doing business in Japan. Aretha’s dreams were so grand, and her ideas of how to achieve them so vague and unrealistic.
I could not bear to see her heart broken.
Copyright © 2010 – Present Anna Waldherr. All rights reserved.
READERS CAN FIND MY VIEWS ON ABUSE AND ABUSE-RELATED ISSUES AT ANNA WALDHERR A Voice Reclaimed, Surviving Child Abuse
https://avoicereclaimed.com
A Lawyer's Prayers 
How kind of you, being there for her. Love this. 🙏🏾🤍
I’m so glad you like it, Petrina. ❤
Riveting journey to inspire, aid, embolden and encourage a child in search of success, Anna. You make us feel what was in your heart and hers.
Oh, Dora. Thank you so much. ❤ Tragically, there are thousands of children in these same circumstances.
How the Church today needs to recognize the need for spiritual fathers and mothers! 1 Cor. 4:14ff. Thanks for showing us the way, Anna.
You are too kind, Erroll. But I hope and pray the book may do some good.
As you so eloquently state, Anna, the need for someone to reach out to those that are struggling, especially young people, has reached a desperate level. With so many single parent homes, the lack of mentorship and guidance is a plague on this generation like none before, and Aretha’s struggles are but a tiny glimpse into the magnitude of the problem.
The lack of mentors is a huge problem in our society, and sadly, nowhere is that more apparent than in the school system and the Church. It used to be that established church members would readily take a newcomer under their wing and walk alongside of them for as long as necessary to get the new Christian up and running. Now it seems that people just can’t be bothered by it.
I’m looking forward to more of this great story!
Thank you so much for your input, Ron. I agree that our young people need guidance. In search of it, they follow “gurus” like the Dalai Lama and false shepherds like Carl Lenz, formerly of Hillsong New York. They worship celebrities, and are vulnerable to gangs and to drugs. We see the destruction that results. But the emptiness is equally corrosive.
There is definitely a cult of personality in the church, and it causing the downfall of many
Dearest Anna, I can picture you and Aretha’s evenings and weekends with you spending your precious time doing something to help someone in need and wanting nothing but the best for her. Giving her the best that you had to offer and all the time and attention that life would grant you. It made me sad when you talked about the school having a nursery. Racism no matter how bright a woman is still has created the need even today for black women to work harder, to shine, to be so far above and beyond a white woman’s performance in order to get the same recognition. I am aware that things are better than they were 20 years ago but we still have a long way to just getting equal rights as women. People who believe that believe women have the same rights as men are not very informed in my opinion. So a black woman has to be even better than a white woman in her performance. Knowing this must have been hard for you to envision the future that you would want for her. I can only begin to imagine. I had my beautiful grandchildren here this last week as you know and they live in an all white neighborhood and in a very wealthy one at that. I worry about racism and I saw it when I was visiting. They are thriving because they are loved and cared for with such love. They are all special in their own way and yet I can not help but wonder if they have memories about their experiences. (You know that they were adopted from horrific conditions in Haiti) My daughter is a wonderful mother and I watch her in amazement as I knew given my childhood I could only mother one child. That way I was sure not to be a yeller or a spanker, etc. or subject my child to any of the abuses that I suffered. I have to admire your desire and ability to want to raise a child that did not have a fair start in school for so many reasons. I love your story and hang on every word. It is so well told as I said, I can just imagine you sitting in a movie theater eating popcorn, hoping a young teenager could just feel normal. God Bless you for your beautiful heart Anna. Sending my love to you.
We long to protect our children — and grandchildren — from all the pain we know the world can inflict. I did the best I could, Joni. But there was so much over which I had no control. In the end, we have to have to entrust our loved ones to God. That is a real challenge.
God bless your daughter for her loving heart. She is obviously a reflection of you. Your grandchildren are beautiful. While they may bear scars from their experience in Haiti, I am sure the love you and your daughter shower on them will go a long way in repairing the damage.
May God watch over you all.
Much, much love,
A. ❤