Thanksgiving

Community participatory research with deaf sign language users to identify health inequities. Primary prevention of childhood lead exposure: A randomized trial of dust control. 43 Korfmacher KS. Boundary networks and Rochester's " smart " lead law: The use of multidisciplinary information in a collaborative policy process. For some reason, it's always the bruises I remember first. The colors and shapes are quite well known—the stigmata of the dysfunctional relationship. What twists the knife just a little is the realization that it was me, not some moral degenerate, who inflicted those wounds on my own mother. What's more, I wouldn't hesitate to do the same all over again. It was the afternoon before Thanksgiving. Mom was returning home from work to drive my little brother and me to her parents' house for our annual family reunion. Her entrance, as she staggered into the foyer, was unmistakable, and my blood boiled as she slurred her awkward greeting. " How much have you had, Mom? " She offered nothing but strenuous denials, though the façade seemed to crack slightly when she had to place her hand against the wall to maintain her balance. My voice rose as hers softened, thus was our parent/child relationship completely reversed, with my little brother and me left to tidy up her mess. After furious protestations and tearful acceptance, it was decided that I would drive the two hours to grandma's and that my mother would indeed come with us, despite her begging to be left behind so as to postpone the inevitable reckoning. Her parents knew nothing of her secret weakness, having been kept in the dark by our years of obfuscations and evasions. The thought of them finally knowing the truth was utterly horrifying to her. The golden child's imperfection would be unmasked in front of those whose approval she coveted most of all. In hindsight, it's heartbreakingly obvious that the day would come sooner or later. Don't, though, underestimate the power of rationalization, both hers and ours. Once we finally made it to the interstate, and the reality of what was coming penetrated her very addled psyche, she began to think out loud in increasingly ominous tones: " I should never have come. This was a mistake. I don't think I can do this anymore. " She began sobbing in the backseat; my little brother began crying as well. I faked a stiff upper lip …