my mother was saying to me. I was visiting her place in Brooklyn, trying to help her pick up the pieces from her latest mistake. This particular mistake was named Clifford, like the big red dog, and he suited that name in that respect, as he was red-headed and weighed over 300 lbs. “I need you to go the store for me.” “Sure, mom, whatever you want or need,” I said. I was trying, very hard, to make sure that she didn’t have some kind of a breakdown. Breakdowns were fairly frequent for her, which actually were the proximate cause for most of her relationship failures. Then, once the relationship actually did fail, her breakdowns became that much more acute. She shook her head. “But first I need to talk to you about what’s going on with me.” She started to cry. “I just am in such despair over my life. I just don’t know what I’m going to do.” I put my arm around her. “Mom, it’s going to be okay.
