God grant me the serenityto accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference. - Reinhold Niebuhr

My sister called the other day, her exasperated tone reverberating through the phone line before I could get out the last syllable of “hello”.

“I’m thinking about running away.  Far, far, away…  And not leaving a forwarding address…  In fact, I’m going right now to throw my cell phone into the Delaware River.  I may have my locks changed… I might even change my name.  Is it difficult to change your name?  What about the “Witness Protection Program… do you think I could qualify for the Witness Protection Program?”

She’s nothing if not funny.

“Let me guess, she’s driving you crazy, right?”

“You could say that.”

Mom is an independent sort.  She raised four children and supported Dad through a demanding career that required copious amounts of travel and late night meetings.  She stood by his side while he ran multiple political campaigns and served as a local county elected official.  She shook hands with dignitaries, entertained friends, family and business associates, attended meetings and conferences and band concerts.  She threw surprise birthday parties, Christmas extravaganzas, school homeroom celebrations and volunteered with the local Women’s Club.  Her peach pie was the hit of the summer 4-H fair each August.

She had a career too.  A couple of them, in fact.  For years she wrote a column for the local newspaper and spent many years dedicated to developing programs for youth in the state of New Jersey.  She hobnobbed with governors, attended presidential inaugurations and took four kids to Europe, multiple times.  She was the original Wonder Woman.

When Dad passed away last year, Mom decided to sell the house they had lived in and moved near my brother and sister.   The better to care for her, they thought.  After all, we had promised Dad we would take care of her and you don’t go back on a promise to your Dad.  Especially when he is no longer around to argue with.

The only problem is, how do you take care of someone who is convinced she doesn’t need taking care of?  I mean, Wonder Woman never needed any help, did she?  Did she ever not remember to go get the bad guy?  Forget how to use her indestructible bracelets? Misplace her Lasso of Truth?  Or worse yet, not recognize the other members of the Justice League?  You get the idea.

And if she did, do you think she would have called Wonder Kid and asked for help?

Not directly.

Maybe she might have invited Wonder Kid over for say, a Wonder-Meal, and then, when Wonder Kid got there, Wonder Woman might not remember that she had called.

And maybe it might happen multiple times.

What’s a Wonder Kid to do?  Are you going to be the one to somehow, someway, tell Wonder Woman that she can no longer do all the wonder-ful things that she think she can?

I think not.

So what do you do?  You call your Wonder Sister and you try hard to remember that this too will pass.  You resist the temptation to throw your cell phone into the Delaware or change the locks on your doors.  You fantasize about the going into the Witness Protection Program and living in Juneau or Anchorage or Bethel under the name of Eileen.  You try to hold on to the memories of the good old days when things were different and you remind yourself that it’s not her fault.  She can’t help it.  It turns out; even Wonder Woman is susceptible after all.

And you remember to laugh.