A Missing Piece

Being the oldest of four with the youngest born just a little more than 49 months after me, my Mother had her hands full. Remember: This was in the days before washing machines and disposable diapers. I have pictures with my Mother holding two of my younger siblings, one in each arm, me standing at her side.

Over my lifetime, I've recognized a tendency I have to seek attention in many situations. I think it's no coincidence I've gravitated toward work that would put me in front of people a lot, i.e. being a musician, a teacher, etc. Like almost everyone I've ever known, I think my choices have been, at least in part, driven by a search for a missing piece from my early years. My Mother was consumed raising four kids very close in age; my Father worked two jobs to support the six of us. How could I have possibly gotten enough individual attention? I have never felt, in any sense, deprived. If any of you read my postings on Mother's or Father's Day you'll know this to be so. And this posting is not meant to make anyone who reads it uncomfortable. If it has, I apologize.

Instead, as always, I'm hopeful that my story will prompt you to think about your own. What is a missing piece for you? And if that probing question strikes anyone as a "glass half empty" approach, again, mea culpa.