February 28, 1992

American dream needs a new look

February 28, 1992/ Beverly Beckham

The Boston Herald

February 28, 1992

BEVERLY BECKHAM

Newsweek's cover story this week is titled "America's Lost Dream" yet it isn't about a lost dream at all.

It's about a dream come true, about a country that grabbed for the gold ring and got it, that got everything it ever wanted, and then some, and now must decide what it wants next.

Since the end of World War II, life in America has improved in countless ways. Jet travel, air conditioning, interstate highways, direct long-distance dialing, television, automatic washers and dryers, antibiotics - all these things have made our lives more comfortable.

February 25, 1992

Letting go: The toughest job

February 25, 1992/ Beverly Beckham

I embarrassed her the other evening. I didn't mean to. The problem with me is that I look at her and see a child, a little girl, although she is 15 now and hardly a little girl at all.

I walk into a restaurant and there she is, somewhere I don't expect her to be and I give her the third-degree. I say she should have phoned and told me where she was going. I say I don't want her in a car with a driver I don't know. I overreact. I behave like my mother.

February 21, 1992

`Soon has a way of slipping by'

February 21, 1992/ Beverly Beckham

He looms for me in death larger than he did in life. He was just my neighbor, after all, a man I saw only once in a while; a man whose company I enjoyed, but more of an acquaintance than a friend. I shouldn't miss him. Entire seasons would pass and I wouldn't see him. And yet now, just a week after his death, his absence feels huge, and my heart is strangely sore.

February 18, 1992

Adoption meant life

February 18, 1992/ Beverly Beckham

She is 17 and beautiful, not just on the outside, with her dark hair and Snow White complexion and her perfect teeth, which never needed braces; but on the inside where it counts.

She has always been beautiful: interested in other people, careful about their feelings, warm, considerate, a smiling, sweet, loving, gentle, wonderful girl.

February 16, 1992

Gun lovers blind to consequences

February 16, 1992/ Beverly Beckham

Nine days ago, Jim Brady, the former White House press secretary who was shot in the head and left permanently disabled by an assassin's bullet intended for President Reagan, was booed off the stage at the University of Nevada by opponents of gun control.

He and his wife, Sarah, had traveled to the school to give a speech in support of gun control. The pair have dedicated their lives to this effort, trying to talk sense into people who look at Jim Brady and think, "poor guy; but that could never happen to me."

February 11, 1992

Realism invades toy market

February 11, 1992/ Beverly Beckham

Elaine Maganello, who lived behind the house in which I grew up, and who was a whole year older than I and, therefore, infinitely more mature, told me her Betsy-Wetsy doll, which she took for a walk every day, was real.

And I, of course, believed her.

February 09, 1992

A hollow victory for a brainwashed battler of the bulge

February 09, 1992/ Beverly Beckham

I thought I had gotten past the body thing. I thought I had my priorities straight. Better to work on the mind than the thighs. Better to read a book than work out. Age is a natural part of life, after all. What sense is there in fighting the inevitable?

What's a little cellulite? What are a few sags? What's a dimple or two among friends?

February 07, 1992

The place where time stands still

February 07, 1992/ Beverly Beckham

The dream was a subconscious effort to hold on. I dreamed about flowers, fields of vanda orchids, red hibiscus, pink plumeria, hibiscus, anthuriums, birds of paradise. The scent of the flowers followed me out of the dream, along with the heat of the sun, coconut trees rustling in the breeze, waves crashing against the shore.

My husband told me I sang in my sleep. "Hello, sweetheart, aloha. Aloha from the bottom of my heart." "You were actually in tune," he joked. I have never sung in my sleep before. I have never sung this song while awake before. But then I have never felt so removed from reality, so at peace with the world, so content - not in years, not since I was a child.

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