Thanks to my mom, I learned these important lessons (in no particular order):
1.) On Cooking - When cooking, mom would make sure each and everything she chopped or cut was the same size and shape. She said it was important that it not only taste good but look good too.
Even at 85, she painstakingly chops carrots into perfect slivers. She does. I don't. Who has time for that?
2.) On Looks - When I was in Junior High School, I suffered from eczema. I was covered in welts that I would scratch that would leave scars all over my body. "Who will love you?"my mom asked me as she applied cortisone cream. The eczema wasn't the only reason she said this, I was never considered the "pretty one" so I resorted to being useful, agreeable and personable. It works, even today.
3.) On Bad Behavior - Back in the '70's, not every car had air-conditioning so as we drove to Florida from New Jersey, we had all of the windows rolled down. Mom wore a handkerchief to keep her hair from blowing around too much. My brother made a comment about it and uncharacteristically playful, I grabbed it from her head and he and I proceeded to toss it back and forth. It was all great fun until the handkerchief blew out the window, never to be seen again. The entire car fell silent. Even our dad was dumbfounded. Mom never brought it up again, which made me that much sorrier. I never did that to her or anyone else again. I learned to keep my hands to myself.
4.) On Shopping - With four kids, our mom would choose one of us at a time to go shopping with her. She didn't drive at the time so we would take the bus into Manhattan or "downtown" Perth Amboy. Whichever one of us she chose that day would feel so privileged, I guess, forgetting the tantrum and the tears from the last shopping excursion since the trips always resulted in one or both.
We kids often forgot that mom ruled during our shopping trips. She determined who would go, when we left, where we would shop, what we could buy, where, what and when we would eat and at the end of the day, what we would have to lug home. I remember getting in so much trouble for dragging a bag with a blanket on the ground behind me for blocks. I honestly couldn't lift it since I was so only 6, short and the package so big and bulky, but mom thought I was pouting because she didn't let me get the toy I wanted. Shopping has always been 2/3 excitement and 1/3 regret after each and every purchase. Gee, maybe I should see a therapist about that one!
5.) On Food - Growing up in the Philippines during WWII, she learned that food was scarce and to be thankful. She had to live with relatives in the countryside where they cherished finding an egg, lived through harrowing experiences like hiding from the Japanese, and miss their parents wondering when life would return to normalcy. Mom taught me to not only appreciate the life we had in the USA with a father who was a doctor and could afford us luxuries. Still, I knew her pain and I showed my appreciation by eating everything she gave me...to excess. I inherited her food insecurity and as a result, ate my way fear away. Ah, life of a fat girl burdened with my mom and my abandonment issues.
6.) On Birthdays - For our birthdays, my mom would start preparing and cooking weeks in advance. We had elaborate parties and invited close and distant relatives and friends. I did the same for my children, so much so that my daughter in junior high school finally asked that we not have a theme, "Can I just have a normal birthday party like every body else?"
7.) On Men - When my father was offered a residency in the USA, he took the opportunity, and my mother accompanied him. She left us in the Philippines with our grandparents and aunt. What was supposed to last a few weeks, turned into a year apart. That separation would result in abandonment issues for me and my siblings. I'm sure, it affected my mom as well. She would tell me that no matter where my husband wanted to move, I must go with him. As a result, we moved to Florida, to the suburbs of NYC, to Africa, and now to St. Croix. Men can't be trusted was the implication. The only move I didn't make with Peter was to Turkey and England, but then, I wasn't sure I wanted him. The implication being, if you want to stay with him, you'll follow him no matter where he goes. And so I live in St.Croix.
8.) On Housework - Even as young as seven, I was washing dishes, learning to clean, to cook. I made my bed, did the laundry, you name it, I did it. My mom was not so "lucky". When she got married, she had no idea how to do these basic tasks. She didn't know how to run a household. Because she had maids in the Philippines, she was lost when she got to the United States and had a house full of kids and a Filipino husband to take care of. She didn't want the same fate for me. So, she insisted I learn to be a housewife. My sister, a few years younger, was not so "lucky". Maybe my mom had had enough of the good life my father could now give us as a doctor in the USA and she didn't want to do it anymore. Maybe she thought since my sister was the pretty one, she didn't need skills to land her a man. Maybe she knew something I wouldn't admit to myself until later. I was good at it. I was good at cleaning, at cooking, at managing a house. I would take the lessons she gave me and make them my own. These tasks, attention to detail, care were what made a house a home. I learned that from her. Not at the time. I cursed her with my back talk, I slogged around and moped, but later, much later, I took her example to heart and I did the same for my family. Each carefully prepared meal, each welcomed stranger, every polished silver tray said, I care. I do this too, not to her extent, but I do it in my own way and I know my husband and kids are grateful.
9.) On Love - When my mom was growing up, her parents were not demonstrative. They were strict and cold. When I was growing up, my mom allowed us to kiss her hello, good night, thank you. She didn't really kiss us, though, but she showed she cared in other ways. She made us our favorite meals. She bought us matching dresses. I remember I was home from school because I was sick and she entertained me by encouraging me to write to my grandparents, even though I was too young to know how to write or to read. I would scroll on a piece of paper and show her what I'd "written". She'd read it outloud. Wow, I thought, I'm so good at this. I did it over and over until she shrieked at me to stop! She had so much to do and the letter writing wasn't occupying enough of my time to allow her to do what she needed to do. I slunk away and played on my own after that, but I did learn that moms could be fun until you pushed her too far.
My mom, my kids' Lola (or grandma) or as they call her, Mae, is not so demonstrative toward her grandkids either. But, she wants to show her love by bribing them to come see her, offering to make them their favorite foods. In Filipino culture, food is love. (Again, said the fat girl.)
At Anne's house, she sits quietly, for the most part. If you do talk to her, you will have to repeat yourself several times, not because she can't hear, but because she doesn't know you're talking to her. She may even fall asleep at some point and I watch her to make sure she doesn't fall out of her chair.
I think of my father and how he reaped the benefits of my mother's hostessing skills for the years they were married. How he loved to bring large groups together and took pride in her mastery of traditional Filipino dishes. She could not have known she'd one day build a custom home that spanned more than 5,000 square feet, when she hid under floorboards, silencing her baby sisters, while the Japanese soldiers ravished their uncle's farm. My father and mother could not have known that she'd have to live more than 20 years without him, nor would they have known they would outlive their eldest son.
Thanksgiving for us is always with my sister-in-law and nephew. It's something we make every effort to do well after my brother died nearly 25 years ago. His son established the tradition of hosting Thanksgiving, I'm not sure how many years ago, but it was this year that I realized something. After Calvin lost his father when he was only 3, he insists on celebrating Thanksgiving. He still wants to give thanks.
And that's something else my mom has taught me. After all of these years, all of the hardships, the loss, the pain, the sorrow, she is still here for us. After leaving her toddlers to be with her husband, she remains here with us. He had gone 20 years ago, but she is still here...She has not abandoned us. She never wanted to leave us. She had not abandoned us. I need to say that outloud to truly understand.
And here she is. She's still with us...And for that, I'm so very grateful.
