Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Mom


grandma, Don, Mom holding Jude, Dad holding me...

I suppose the baby is Don but not quite positive - could be Tommy...

left to right -
cousin Brad, mom, Grampa Tom, Jude, me, Don - in front of Grampa's store in Vancouver
I'm thinking about mom. She died on April 1st, '92 and so it isn't surprising I would think of her. I think of her often. The other night I dreamt that some collection of our family in a variety of ages was moving to the last home we did move to on Charkay St. in Ottawa. We all were told to stay in the station wagon because mom was going to check it out. See if she liked it. I had a momentary thought that perhaps we all should have a boo at it and then I thought - nah, we'll be moving out soon - she's the one that will be there. I liked mom in this dream - she was strong and independent. Which is pretty much how I remember the best of her. Although she led the life of a fifties style housewife she was never afraid to share her opinion or disagree with Dad or us kids if she thought we were wrong. She was incredibly devoted to Dad but that didn't make him automatically right in her mind. She held strong views on women and their independence - on money and equality and on how us humans need to take care of each other. I remember way back in the early 70's her saying she wasn't happy to go to McDonalds because she thought the packaging excessive. Oh she wasn't perfect - she drank, she obsessed, she picked at us kids. But man, she could laugh and enjoy the world. She loved corny stuff too - like any nature show on TV and she was always sending me pictures of animals doing cute stuff that she cut out of the paper. She would say 'if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all' which in hindsight wasn't far off the Buddhist teaching of 'right speech'. She was mad for Mahalia Jackson and Edith Bunker and anyone she thought was getting a raw deal. She believed that the best folks were those who in her words 'had no face' meaning no put on airs. She even started to feel sorry for Richard Nixon when he gave his last sad-ass speech on the radio which was quickly squelched by the rest of the family present. She came down many mornings to tell us kids that she had dreamt of her mother and how good it was to see her so I am very glad to continue the practice. Mom - hope you're checking out that last house very carefully - we'll see you there soon. (because that is where my Buddhism fails me - I want to see my mom again!)



1 comment:

Jude said...

Oh, me too, Jan, me too.