I remember my mother holding me tight while workers were down a well in Texas trying to rescue Baby Jessica. It was 1987, and my mother had not just me but my infant brother at home while every mom in the country held her breath for the 18-month-old Jessica McClure. I was a typical kid who wanted to get back to reading my book. I didn't know about a baby in a well, and I didn't care.
Two decades later, this morning I was the mother hugging tight a struggling kid while workers are down a 150-foot borewell in India digging to rescue a 2-year-old. What is it about being a parent that makes us that much more attuned to a family in crisis?
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