My Mom is a fifties Mom. I mean I grew up in the fifties and the sixties but she always had a fifties sensibility. She was a shy first generation Italian girl who was brave enough to get on the train and go to work in the cable department of the Irving Trust on Wall St. She met this handsome quick witted Irishman who would always tease her. "When are you going to invite me to your house for a nice Italian dinner." So one night she said "Tomorrow." He came to her mother's house and they ate dinner together every night until the day he died.
She raised four kids as a stay at home mom. She took us to school and made sure we did our homework. Whenever she joined a club she would always get the thankless tasks. Collecting the dues. Making people sign up for this or that. But she was a worker. She took care of her her Mom my grandmother who had Alzheimer's in the house for the last 12 years of her life. She didn't complain even though it was very tough. Now she is taking care of her brother who has it too. She didn't complain she just worked every day to keep things going.
We didn't always agree, especially about cooking. Even though she was a great cook she took a minimalist approach. She skipped a lot of steps that my grandmother used to take. My grandmother taught me how to cook so I followed her way of doing things. The last twenty years I have been doing all the cooking at family events. And I would do it old school. Always fresh garlic sliced razor thin never garlic salt or garlic from the jar. So my cooking takes her back to the old days even though she doesn't have the patience to do that anymore.
She is still going strong at eighty taking care of her brother and keeping us all in line. She is a great lady and I owe most of what I am to the example that she and my father gave in their life together.
I love you Mommy.
Happy Mothers Day!!!!!!!!!
13 comments:
Based on that picture, I imagine this conversation at the TY house:
Jive Lady: [to the Second Jive Dude] Jus' hang loose, blood. She gonna catch ya up on da' rebound on da' med side.
Second Jive Dude: What it is, big mama? My mama no raise no dummies. I dug her rap!
Jive Lady: Cut me some slack, Jack! Chump don' want no help, chump don't GET da' help!
First Jive Dude: Say 'e can't hang, say seven up!
Jive Lady: Jive ass dude don't got no brains anyhow! Hmmph!"
Salute. Lost my mom fourteen years ago. Our birthdays were one day apart. She died about two weeks shy of her 68th birthday and my 34th birthday. My first thought was, "Am I half-way there?" She did the best she could with what she was dealt. For that I am truly grateful.
The whole history of the race
Is in your mother, is in your mother --
A knife twist in your gut is the bother
In your mother's face.
Sorry windbag. I lost my Dad very early too. He died at 57. As did my grandfather. And three of my uncles.
I am 55. I am thinking about it.
There are a few things that tug on my heart BIG time.
One is dogs, and especially dogs with whom I share a common interest, such as http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nGeKSiCQkPw&feature=youtu.be> this fella.
Two is grown men who call their mother "mommy".
Makes me feel all mushy inside.
Make a meal of mushy dogs
And mushy mommy lovers,
Top it off with grated cheese
And call it macaroni.
"Henry...Henry Aldrich."
"Coming Mother."
The minute I popped him out I just knew there was nothing wrong with David. Solid as a rock, that boy. But Ricky, there's something almost too sweet, too sensitive about that child. And he keeps bringing around a pal called Titus, whiff of brimstone about that one I can tell you.
Two is grown men who call their mother "mommy".
I called my mother "Mommy" into adulthood. I never was comfortable calling her "Mom." My closest friend used to razz me mercilessly, and as a teen it WAS embarrassing. Now, it just seems a bit innocent, more than anything.
FWIW, I love my mother-in-law dearly and will cry like a baby when she passes. She is the only person on this planet who has always believed in me and supported me, since I first met her (when I was about 14). I probably should go call her right now.
"And he keeps bringing around a pal called Titus, whiff of brimstone about that one I can tell you."
You say "whiff", my mind...it wanders!
This time to wikipedia for it's treatise on GAS!
Wikipedia likes to think they're "all over it", yet still no link to the newly minted "autism spectrum disorder"?
Lot's of GAS in that crowd! ha ha
Feeling ever so "energy independent".
Learned to fart like a man many years ago.
It's a "gift", I tell ya! ;)
you are a good person and a right honorablo egg.
your wife deserves a medal.
I call her "mom". Sometimes I'll do an Elvis and call her "mah mommah".
I bought her lunch this year. Things are lean. But she was still glowing from last year when I bought her 200 roses.
Typically, she loved it but felt she was undeserving.
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