shielded

“It’s a shame,” Julianna thinks.  “Sad.”  She is reading the New York Times on her phone in the car, waiting for Greta’s dance class to end.

Thirty-five years ago, yesterday, she was born in Abington Hospital, north of Philadelphia.  

Julianna habitually reads the news, or at least habitually scrolls.  Some days she isn’t sure she likes reading the news.  Is she doing it out of a sense of obligation?  Because she should?  But often, she does enjoy it, or enjoys scrolling at least.  She manages to catch an episode of The Daily at least once a week, and she is pretty faithful to David Leonhardt’s The Morning.  

She grew up with Peter Jennings on the ABC evening news.  More so, she grew up with Jim Gardiner and the local Philly 6 ABC Action News, which preceded and followed the national broadcast.  The former gave her a sense of the world.  It implicitly warned her: be careful out there. The latter gave her a sense of the more local geography, particularly Philadelphia: be careful down there.  

She refuses to pay extra for the Times cooking section.

Thirty-five years ago, tomorrow, she came home for the first time, with her parents, to the house in Glenside.  There, she lived her first five years, with her parents Tammy and Pete and her older brother, also Pete.  Or Peter.  At five, right before she started kindergarten, they moved out to Doylestown township--a kind of exurb, outside the borough of Doylestown.  She went to Our Lady of Mount Carmel school for nine years, from kindergarten to eighth grade.  In the latter years there, she ran track, did dance, played softball, and after they let girls join, she became an altar server.  She got good grades.  She sang a solo for the May Procession.  She went to Gwynedd Mercy Academy, an all-girls prep school.  She had a not-serious boyfriend in 11th grade, who went to the all-boys prep school.  She ran varsity track and played varsity volleyball.  She studied faithfully, and she passed her AP tests, including calculus.  She volunteered, weekly, in a tutoring program in North Philly.  Her dad was proud of her kindness and service and her AP scores, but he wasn’t keen on her going to North Philly.  

Peter went to Villanova.  When she graduated, she went to Holy Cross, in Worcester.  They offered her some decent money, and Tammy and Pete were able to foot the rest of the bill.  They had a good financial advisor.  At Holy Cross, she majored in accounting and English.  She drank for the first time, but only on the weekends.  She studied in London spring of her junior year and relished traveling around Europe on relatively cheap flights.  After graduation, she joined the Jesuit Volunteer Corps and taught for two years at a small Catholic grade school in a blighted Chicago neighborhood on the south side.  Her dad was proud of her service, but he was not keen on the location.  

After the JVC, she took a job with Deloitte, in New York, which was always the plan, and she moved to Hoboken.  In Hoboken, she met and made an unserious and then later serious boyfriend: Bobby.  Bobby also worked at Deloitte but in a different department.  He was from Summit, New Jersey and had gone to NYU. Also, he was Catholic too.  They got married several years later, back at Mount Carmel, and they lived the fun young couple life for a few more years in Hoboken, drinking on the weekends.  

Before their first kid’s arrival, they bought a house in Rutherford.  Just last year, before their third kid, they moved to Summit, where they bought a bigger house.  Bobby’s parents were both retired, healthy and active, and available to help with childcare.  They had encouraged them to move out to Summit.  There’s a train from Summit to Manhattan.  

Julianna no longer works at Deloitte, but Bobby does, and he has done pretty well there.  She is a full-time mom, which is indeed a full-time job, even with the nearby grandparent help.  She is active on the elementary school PTA.  Greta is in first grade.  Julianna does some ad hoc editing for a friend, for pay, and accounting for the PTA and the church, as a volunteer.  

  

“If only Hamas wouldn’t use human shields,” she thinks, as she scrolls.  “If only the Palestinians hadn’t voted for Hamas in the first place,” in 2006, she learned a couple months ago.  She returned to that thought, as she did two days ago, while she scrolled in line at Whole Foods.  

“Israel has no other choice.  It’s tragic.”  And like two days ago, her thought process terminates.   

Greta emerges from the studio.  Julianna buckles her in the booster seat, and they drive home.  They listen to the Frozen soundtrack. They beat the rush hour home.