Tuesday, May 10, 2016

MOM ESSAY or ESSE

I think the best way to respond and answer is to tell you a little bit about my mother. She was a working mother. for as afar back as I can remember she went to Work at Catholic Social Services. She had at least her MSW and used it to cut through red tape and bullshit for the clients of her agency. She rose from case worker to head the agency when they were in a crunch. They pulled her out of retirement to do this. After her final retirement she volunteered at three different organizations but only one using her Social Work skills.

She did not need to work for family finances, she chose to do so.

(My father finally got to college after WWII and by 1952 he had gone from a HS diploma to a PhD. in Chemical Engineering(polymers) a Masters in Pharmacy and a BS in Chemistry.) 

There were 5 of us heathens all told, the last born in 1956, I was 1954 we were the two youngest the oldest was born in 1950 or 1850 (not sure) she stayed home long enough to decide that being super mom was not her bag, the world of Detroit needed her more. Especially after the '67 rebellion.

BUT that said--she did not coddle us when she was home, she reasoned (which worked for four of the five) with us. I was always her troubled child. She once told me I should have been on Ritalin. I guess she never realized that half the time we had hours long late night discussions I was trippin' on pure Wayne State U LSD or Mescaline.

There was no taboo subject in our household, we were all brought up to develop and have our own world view. She was the fundamental reason for that as my father the chemist liked his Vodka and what all. BUT they both were prolific readers including 3 newspapers every day, a fourth on Wednesday and somewhere close to 2500 books in the house at any given time ranging from pulp novels, Sci-Fi, to literature, history and comic books. She (they) did not care so much what we read only that we read.

We rarely after 1965-'66 ate dinner at the same time, it was more of a when you got home you ate; though what was almost mandatory as it got was the nightly news; we were expected to know our own minds on any current event and be able to have a sane and rational discussion on any current event topic she brought up. Discussion was hugging for my mother, we never were a touchy feely family.

Today when my siblings get together (rarely for me, I live a different kind of life) we love each other with our own form of logic, not embraces. My mothers love of logic based training. (who the hell really wants to hug your sister anyway?)

Was my mother a happy person? *meh* I assume she was content with the way things were with the 5 of us. I rushed production of my first Chap Book (Black White and Blue in Detroit) to try to get her a copy before she passed. Just made it proofs anyway).

Suffice it to say I was NOT my fathers favorite child, which was OK because he was not my favorite parent either. I really didn't care so much that he was alcoholic, but he took a certain pleasure in calling me out from the herd of 5. We never did get along, he never did get me although he was all for me enlisting, if you were to ask him I believe that would be his fondest memory of me.

My mom on the other hand tried not to show favorites though I believe she was attached to #2 a bit more than the rest, she was the only one to never leave home and went to college long enough to get a BSW though she never used it.

With all my comings and goings from the ages of 17-29--she saw instability, but then I think as she aged she wanted more reliance on her knowledge and resources. But I had cut the cord early on and went my own direction early. I didn't take easy to parenting much beyond 5th grade but when I did, I actually listened to her, saw her reasoning and usually did as she said, not always but usually.

She and the old man were life long Democrats, and I think my old man had a mini stroke when he found out I had split my ticket my mother gave me hell. Hey your kids are what you shape them to be right? They wanted us to be self sufficient and independent thinkers.

I think the greatest disappointment to moms was I never stopped life long enough to go to get a degree in something (the old man thought I was too "stupid") though she never said anything c'mon between my 4 siblings there are something like 8 or 9 degrees. I kind of think that's enough.

I think what surprised her the most about me was my ability to write, she didn't know all of the encouragement my grandmother (her mother) gave me, the direction she pushed me in the books she had me read when I was at her house. Grandma taught me the art of words and connections of humans through communication (my father taught me all the God Damns and variations of Fuck) my mother was, like I said not a touchy feely person, but her emotions ran deep and when I brought a publication to her that had printed my work, and then another, and then another she believed I would be OK and I would never hesitate to do what she had spent her life doing; helping others and speaking to the reality of now.

She was a good mom, even though she couldn't flip an egg and thought microwaved chicken was just fine. She had 5 kids and a whole world to try to save, she may not have done all she wanted with the latter but all 5 of us made it into our 60's and did it on our own. I believe she would say that was pretty cool.

13 comments:

  1. Sometimes it helps to work this kind of stuff out in your head. I did something similar in some of the essays in Adventures of an Arkansawyer, about how my mom and I ended up with a pretty complicated relationship after my father died and she suddenly felt like all the weight was on her to make sure I turned out OK

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    1. Charles I had most of it worked out by the time I came back to Detroit for the last time (1979). every lingering question I had, was answered by my mom as she underwent chemo. She was one of those "now don't tell your aunt about this or that..."

      She felt shame for some of the shit we did (not me of course) as adults, but it was misplaced. I think she was trying to continue the continuity between her generation and the one before her that was dying off in the 1990's. Man some of those women made it to 105, most of them actually and they were here only kin other than us heathens.

      Her mother, always the rebel or independent feminist had only the one child. I asked grandma one day why that was. "Well it wasn't for lack of trying!" bwahahaha loved that old lady too.

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  2. Your Mother sounds like and interesting person who was definite in her priorities...I would guess you are a lot like her.

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    1. I am more like her than she would have admitted e. But when it came to discussion our range of topics went wide and far afield. When it came to play time though she and #2 did most of that crap together.

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  3. Interesting insights into your parents (and you). That's a lot of books in the house! But it shows in your writing.

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    1. Jeff, when she passed, we cleaned out almost double that amount. All on shelves or in closets, neatly stacked and free to anyone who gave her something she never read before.

      They definitely were ahead of their time, my parents, never joined the mass migration even though making well above median wages. They simply saw no reason to move away because the area had gone from Irish Catholic to Black Baptist.

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  4. Being someone's child is always a challenge.

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    1. Actually Jean my mom did reduce the challenge of being so much like her but then I went nearly a decade with so little communication that when I returned I was new person she had to learn about.

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  5. Straight, no chaser. I dig it.

    p.s. Gone are the days of multiple newspapers, now it's skimming a tsunami of online info. at best . . .

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    1. It wasn't the right way for the 1950's Erik, but it worked out OK. 100% correct one has to actually research multiple souces to even get a glimmer of the reality of the word as it is, not as it is presented.

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  6. My folks lived throug WW2, then emigrated to South Africa. Also tough, no nonsense, and GeRMaN! No cuddling, strict rules, do-as-you're-told, pretend all is okay (my dad an alcoholic too, I think war and life crushed something in him and he just gave up...), but they were who they were, they did as best they could, they were our parents...

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    1. Shadow my parents were of the same generation, but strictness was for the most part ignored and the shit we did they never really found out about until we were all adults. The old mans alcoholism ran back at least 3 generations, I quit 17 years ago and never looked back. It was his passed on demons to me I was able to exorcise and forgive.

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  7. Mark-although I knew most of this, I still enjoyed your take on nuture cause and effect for you. xo

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So Walking Man I was thinking...