1990s: creeping credentialism

My mother went back to school for her master's degree in Public Health from NYU in the 1970s. She was able to afford the classes because of a burglary at our house; a large amount of heirloom antique silverware was stolen (I think it was my maternal great-grandmother's), and the insurance payoff was substantial. We hardly ever used the stuff anyway, so it was a good deal for her. My grandparents spent time with us, as well as a small but trusted group of sitters, while she went into the city for classes. Sometimes my oldest brother J. babysat for my brother M. and me (that wasn't fun for any of us; J. was barely old enough to pull off such a task, and M. and I were terrors, I'm sure).

Her course work also took her to Scotland and Sweden in the summer of 1976, which was a good deal for J. and me (we got to go along). M., ever the scapegoat, wasn't even on her list to be considered for the trip; he got shipped off to my dad's place in Boston with the dog. Nice. He was denied a great opportunity, because that summer was wonderful for me and I'm sure it could have been for him as well. Other than an ill-conceived idea that my brother J. would tutor me in math (he's a brilliant math student but couldn't teach his way out of a paper bag --- at least not his little sister, mathphobe that I was.) I recall exploring Edinburgh, Scotland and Uppsala, Sweden with and without him. As I look back, the fact that I was a 10-year-old girl roaming around alone in these cities seems a little odd --- but wow, I had a great time and it's one of the biggest sources of good childhood memories for me.

Anyway, once she got the Master's, we moved to coastal Massachusetts in 1977 and she got a job at the local Council on Aging, helping elderly people access services such as...um...assisted living (hey, it's all good, apparently, as long as it's for "other people"). In 1980, she got a job as a health educator (where she did it all: counseling students, designing curricula for alcohol, drug, and sex education, etc.) at a state university in New Hampshire.

So...I got to go to high school in a college town, which was wonderful. I got to sneak into free showings of movies like The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the university student center, bowl with my pals at highly subsidized prices on-campus, and generally benefit from the somewhat more highly-charged intellectual environment that one finds in college towns vs. non-college towns. The used record store was probably my favorite fringe benefit of college town life; it probably helped form my musical tastes in a pivotal way, veering off-course from the boring top-40 stuff; as a musician, I'm very thankful to have had that resource. Most importantly, the majority of the kids at my high school were children of faculty and staff at the university, so unlike a lot of high schools, it was OK to be smart and get good grades; it was just in the culture. You could get anywhere on foot in town, unlike a lot of suburban towns. And while moving at the beginning of both middle school and high school was a bit rough on me, I think it eventually made me into a more resourceful person --- and I did eventually make friends, and good ones. Most of them are still in my life.

So as you can see, despite the distinct downsides, there were a lot of benefits to having her as my mother when I was a kid. There was a lot of truth to the hype that she was a smart, hip, eclectic person with good connections. Unfortunately, as is usually the case with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, her mental health has really deteriorated as she's aged.

...Back to the Master's degree. After I graduated from high school, she stayed at the university awhile longer, then got a job with the Centers for Disease Control in Maine, sometime around 1986 or 1987, working on AIDS education. She continued in this job until she moved back to Massachusetts to be with Bob, my future step-father.

In any case, at some point in there, she began to talk about a mysterious honorary doctorate she had received. Oddly, the habit started to surface at about the same time that she was no longer in her profession. I never pressed her on which institution might have granted it; at the time, I never gave it a second thought. However, as time went by, she started using the "Dr." title, when it suited her. When calling doctor's offices, she found it got her much more attentive service than the poor average schlubs, so she would identify herself as "Dr. M.". She'd use it in airports; I ended up seeing it on her plane tickets.

It escalated from there. A friend of my mom's who didn't come into her life until recently (and was even more recently expelled due to suggesting somewhat more reasonable boundaries) has been in touch with me of late. Reality checking regarding my mother has become a big help to me, lately...and in this case, the reality checking was a mutual exercise. She informed me that my mother told her, flat out, that she held a doctorate. Coming from a woman who actually *has* a doctorate (she's worked as a college professor), this was interesting news indeed.

Yes, but the important question is: was mom's fictitious doctorate awarded by an Ivy League school, I wonder?