Some Nader Wisdom

I have been reading The Seventeen Traditions, Ralph Nader’s autobiographical reflection on his parents, siblings, and upbringing. I know Ralph’s family pretty well. His sisters are as formidable as he is and his nieces and nephew are just as impressive, and so I find the read doubly fascinating.

I bring this up because I just came to a part of the book in which Ralph briefly describes the end of his mother’s life. In an era in which too many elderly people are made to feel as if they are somehow “burdens,” the Nader family’s response to Mrs. Nader’s final illness is illuminating. Ralph doesn’t go into details, and I won’t either. But I know some of them. Let us just say that the the entire family—grandchildren included—devoted themselves utterly to ensuring that the wonderful woman Ralph sometimes calls “the originator” was always comfortable and received the best medical care. Here is how Ralph describes this difficult time in the family’s life:

My mother had always been one of the most self-reliant and independent people I’d ever known, but by the time she was nearing her one hundredth birthday, she finally needed help getting around. My sister Claire was there to care for her, and she treated the responsibility as if it were a privilege to extend her hands to embrace our mother’s needs. Claire rejected the bureaucratic term, “caregiver.” To her it was a much simpler matter. “She is my mother,” she would say. “And I am her daughter. We respond to each other’s needs.”

As the weeks passed, and mother needed more assistance, not once did Rose Nader ever suggest that she was a burden on her children. She had cared for us all during our infancy, childhood, and adulthood. Of course we would be there for her at the very end of her life. She viewed her life as a state of oneness with her children and grandchildren. And oneness cannot be a burden on itself.

“Oneness cannot be a burden on itself:” In this one sentence, I think, Ralph identified the key to the secret of life.