CHILDHOOD MEMORIES OF MY MOTHER

My mom is 92 years old and feels she has outlived her usefulness. She suffers from COPD, has difficulty walking, and thinks death is the most beneficial outcome for her. Although this may seem a harsh outlook, one must know what a productive and useful life my mother has lived. It’s not surprising she would feel she had lived too long when one realizes she is the last three of ten children, with only two younger sisters still alive. Many of her friends have died over the past few years, and worse yet, she has outlived one of her children. I thought it would be a gift to my mother to be reminded of just who she is and what she has done.

Mom and Dad returning from their honeymoon
in 1947. I born 13 months later!

My first conscious memory of my mother was when I was about 3 years old. I was with a babysitter in our upstairs apartment in Batavia, New York. My parents were attending a wedding, and my mother told me she’d bring me back a surprise. To understand the importance of this surprise to me, I should mention that I loved bridal clothes! The veils, the frilly gowns, the flowers, everything about a wedding was special to me. I was ecstatic when the surprise my mother brought back was one of the bridesmaids, in full bridal regalia! Who else would have thought to bring back such a unique gift for her little girl. This is a memorable example of my mother’s theory of child-rearing. She thought “out of box” on this occasion and many more times after that.

Dad and Mom on a trip to Thousand Islands

I remember many things about that little apartment. I had a best friend who lived behind us. Sylvia and I would take turns playing at each other’s houses. But then Sylvia’s mother spoiled everything by having triplets! My mother told me I couldn’t go to Sylvia’s house because her mother was too busy with the new babies. For some reason, immediately after my mother told me I couldn’t go, I jumped over the three stone steps leading to Sylvia’s, ran to the door and rang the bell. Sylvia wasn’t home, but her mom, Mrs. V.  invited me in anyway. I liked Mrs. V. and assumed her invitation meant she was happy to have me visit. I explained how my mom thought I shouldn’t bother her, "but I was sure," I told Mrs. V., "that I knew she was just waiting for a visit from me." At that moment, I heard my mother calling me. I figured I was in big trouble. Instead, when I sheepishly returned, my mom never said a word about my disobedience (which, at this point in my life, was rare). My mom just asked me if I’d like to invite Sylvia over later that afternoon. I’m still in amazement 60 years later that I didn’t get a harsh scolding from my mom. To this day, I don’t know what made her treat me so mercifully. I decided at the time not to push my good fortune by asking her why she decided not to punish my disobedience.

Uncle Duke with my brother Jim (who is 20 years
younger than me!) Uncle Duke is the one who was supposed to
pick me up from kindergarten until I decided to walk home
by myself - at age 5!

Then there was the time my Uncle Duke was going to pick me up from kindergarten. My mother told me where to wait until my uncle arrived. He was a few minutes late, so I thought I would do him the great favor of taking my little 5-year-old feet on a walk home. I was sure I knew the way, and my uncle wouldn’t have to bother taking me home. As a mother and grandmother, I now know what a great panic I caused. My uncle found me along the way and put me safely into his car. Perhaps he pleaded on my behalf or maybe my mother was so relieved I was safe that once again I didn’t get the tongue-lashing I deserved. Or maybe my logical explanation of how I was saving my uncle from the chore of picking me up impressed them all. I’ll never know.

My mother's siblings, their spouses and her mom and dad all
went out before Mom had to move away. It was a heart-breaking
to be the first to move away from the solace of a large family,

My mom worked hard at being a mother. Her career was taking care of her family. My dad had a job that transferred him to different cities and states. Such moves were part of the promotion ladder he had to climb to rise within the company. The first such transfer took place in the mid 1950’s. (See "The Big Black Phone" in a previous post to get the flavor of that move.) It was a first for Mom, who had never been separated by more than a few miles from her very close family. In retrospect, my siblings and I didn’t really understand how difficult that must have been.  She had three small children who she would have to shepherd into an environment she was experiencing for the first time herself. My father was required to begin working immediately, so mom was taxed with settling a home and getting me into school as a second-grader. This leads me to the next vivid memory I have of my mother.

Holding my brother Philip

The reward of motherhood - grandchildren! My mom with my
brother's son, Matthew who is all grown-up and expecting a baby!
The picture at left is Mom holding Matthew's father, my brother
Philip. Looks like Matthew was more fun to be around!

Settling into a new environment was hard for my mom, but since I was the only one old enough to go to school, it was a daunting task for me as well. I had been in a school where I had cousins in upper classes to tease, cajole and look for me in school. However, this new school was different. Everyone knew each other, and I knew no one. More than that, everyone kept looking at me, like I was some new species of life! I went home for lunch and told my mom I wasn’t going back because I hated how everyone started at me. She insisted I must go back, and gave me a little shove out the door. As soon as she was out of sight, I hunkered down behind that same door, determined not to return to all that “staring”. Mom eventually found me and realized I wasn’t kidding. I was not going back to that room where all eyes were on me. Her solution was to walk me to school the next day so she could explain my "problem" to the teacher. Together they worked out some solution where I returned to school and Sister Georgina convinced the kids to stop starting at me. From that moment on, I was primed to face any new situation with fearlessness!

Mom, bottom left next to Mary. Back row, from left  Josie
Rose, Terri and Fran. Only Mom, Mary and Terri survive.

Mom went through many trials that tested her faith and values. She had to face personal issues that were humiliating and challenging. Women in my mother’s generation were literally responsible for “keeping the home fires burning” as the cliché goes, so options were limited to a woman in her position. All the decisions she made during that time were based on what was best for her children because they would be most affected by any changes she made in her life. As the oldest, I was probably more aware of these situations than most, and I recognize that what Mom went through had a profound effect on her. She made it through those times, but not without significant and lasting wounds. She lost some of her joy and a lot of her trust, and I don’t think she ever entirely found it again. Still, her courage and dignity stays with me to this day, and is an example of how to face adversity.

Mom and my baby sister Gina in a special Mother's
Day article in the Toledo Blade, 1961

Mom and me on the occasion of my 10th
wedding anniversary when Bob and I renewed
our vows. Just a little reminder that despite my
rebellious streak, I had apparently done well
in my choice of a husband!

My personality was certainly a challenge for my parents. I was strong-willed and supremely confident in my ability to navigate life. Unfortunately, that high opinion of myself started when I was about 13 years old and extended well into my adult years! The prime example of my cock-sure attitude was my decision to marry a man whom my parents weren’t too excited about. Maybe they didn’t approve of him because he kept me out at all hours and could affect my thinking in a variety of new ways. The problems we all faced with this courtship is that it took place 50 years ago, and today’s mores would cause all of us to think differently of the situation. Fifty years ago, under threat of being disowned, Italian-American girls didn’t move out of their parents' home to live in their own apartment. They certainly didn’t stay out past midnight, and they didn’t date men who weren’t Catholic. It was favorably looked upon if their boyfriends were also Italian. My boyfriend fit none of that criteria. And when, in 1969, he called me from Columbia University in New York City where he was studying for his MBA, everything and the kitchen sink hit the fan. He informed me that we could be getting married in six weeks during his school hiatus. And since I was the forward thinking, independent woman of the world, I agreed! Today, I realize I was an idiot for agreeing to such a plan. But back then, it didn’t occur to me to protest. What a difference 50 years makes!

Two of Mom's brothers, Andy far left, and Nick center.

Now there are some amusing aspects to this situation that can only be appreciated in the framework of 1969. The first issue that would come to everyone’s mind when someone gets married in a hurry is that the bride must be “in the family way.” Yes, that was the term that was used. In case you’re wondering, I wasn’t pregnant. But there was one issue that couldn’t be ignored. I was still that same little girl who loved wedding finery. I wanted the wedding I had always dreamed of, and getting it in six weeks wasn’t going to be easy.

My daughter Beth with my Mom. Beth was my mother's
first grandchild.

In this case, both my parents worked to provide me with a beautiful wedding. The time constraints meant we were on a very tight budget, but I remember my mother using her super money-management skills to create a lovely wedding day .One serendipitous moment came when we learned that a bride had just cancelled her wedding and there were five gowns available. And the gowns fit each of the varied sizes of my bridesmaids.  I thought such an unlikely event would convince my mother that my marriage to Bob was meant to be. And at that point, she still wasn’t sure about whether my chosen partner was good husband material which is a testament to her ability to accept circumstances that were unchangeable. After almost 48 years of marriage, she is willing to concede that maybe I saw something in him that she didn’t. In all events, I figured out from watching my mother that when a child becomes an adult, you stop being a mother and start being a cheerleader!

My mom made good friends wherever she went. Although not highly educated, she speaks with the

Mom and her "Grandma Shirt" with names
of all her grandchildren.She has doubled that
number in great-grandchildren.

eloquence of a college graduate. She knows how to act in a variety of situations, and has a knack of making people feel comfortable in many environments. She is a genuine fashion icon who creates outfits from mere scraps. I remember a black dress that she adorned in a dozen different ways to economize on her wardrobe. It was necessity that caused her to do that, but it was still amazing to see.

She was the queen of what today is called “up-cycling.” There were always folded up pieces of aluminum foil in our kitchen that mother had deemed clean enough to be used again. When staying with my daughter recently, she found a piece of folded aluminum foil and said, “I can tell my mother is here.” Little did I know that I had unconsciously picked up this habit from my own mother. Nothing went to waste in our house. She scrubbed, scraped, shined, patched, sewed and hammered her way through many objects to bring them to a state of beauty. She hated to sew, but she once made beautiful red taffeta dresses for my sister and me. It was a major undertaking, but I loved that dress!

Sometimes, Mom would be short on money just before Dad’s payday. We soon began to realize something extraordinary would happen at dinnertime on those days. Mom would take out the good china and crystal goblets and set the table in the dining room. When that happened during the week, we knew we were probably eating something simple like an omelet that night. But the beautiful table setting made it feel like pheasant under glass. It was like a special event. Even when we ate in the kitchen every night, a table cloth was always on the table. That was something that always impressed my friends.

Mom surrounded by most of us on the occasion of the
2003 Family Reunion.

My father (top right) and his Air Force Buddies

There was an elegance to the décor in our home despite the budget furnishings we might have. My mother made everything look classy and expensive. And our home was always spotlessly clean and well organized. My mother was ambitious and would tackle just about any project. We would tease her that she got more paint on herself than on the wall, but still, the wall got painted. She exposed us to the arts and to music. Every time I hear “The Messiah” by Handel, I remember that my mother took us to hear it at a live concert.

My father worked late on Friday nights, so my mother would turn it into a fun night. She would buy snacks and soda pop and spread a big vinyl tablecloth on our living room floor and lay out this feast in front of the TV, where we would snack while watching a favorite show. Instead of missing Dad, she made his absence an event. I’m not sure how he felt about that, but we loved it.

When I went to my first alumni dance after high school, I wanted a beautiful orange dress I found at a store. My parents couldn’t afford it, but my mom took one of my old dresses and retooled it. I remember she put crystal buttons on it. It was better than the orange dress at the store! What she didn’t know is that my former boyfriend, who dumped me a few months earlier, would be there. I looked spectacular when I snubbed him!

Mom is esteemed by everyone for her kindness and loyalty. She is trusted for her discretion and ability to keep a confidence. She has offered her help to family and friends in need. She has often awakened in the morning and found my cousins, friends, siblings and I sprawled out on our living room floor after partying the night before. She took it in stride and laughs about seeing all those bodies laid out on the floor.

Mom and newest great-grandchild, MJ, who is the daughter
of Philip's daughter Christina. (Psst: Mom is 92 years old here.)

She loves to complain about how she has had to do this thing or that thing, but we prefer to think it’s how she keeps herself humble. Despite any complaint she may have, she doesn’t hesitate to console or help those close to her. She can also be very funny. She can make me laugh when she often opines on every day things. When she tells you a story from her past, she can become a funny and interesting recontour. (Ask her about the time the guy who couldn’t speak English kept following her around.)

She drives her children crazy, as any good mother should. She can drive us up a wall with a comment and then innocently ask “what? what did I say?” I especially like it when she says “she just won’t say anything anymore.” We take odds on how long that threat will last. She’s a real “drama queen” at times and amazes us with her ability to be furious until the doorbell rings and she answers it with a smile. Without mentioning names, some of us believe she could have been a Hollywood  actress.

In looking back over my mother’s life, there is so much for which she can be proud of and humbled by.

She has contributed to many lives in different ways perhaps not always realizing how she has affected others. Old age can rob of us of so much, but my mom has hit old age with the fury, indignation, and humor she has displayed throughout her life. Mother’s Day isn’t just about one day in a year, or one year in 92. It is about what mark is left by the mothering you have done. My mother has left a mark etched in stone. My mom is not useless, because what she has done throughout her life keeps giving and is passed down through generations. Her children took have followed her example and passed it on to their families. So -- take a bow, Mom!