A belated thank you…
Monday, February 27, 2006
My little ruminations tend to be about recent days or observations. This time around I wanted to express something far more important, but yet something that I rarely actually say to those that need to hear it. Specifically, I was thinking of our parents and how much more I understand them as time passes and I acquire a little of the wisdom of age. Mabel and I have the joy of sharing the children of family and loved ones and naturally the prospect of our becoming parents is a topic we’ve discussed. (Note: No, that is not a hint! No news!) Little things occurred to us, the little things that parents just DO and yet are heroic and wonderful. Mabel and Oscar’s parents worked on their home for two years. Not figuratively, literally. They would work a full day and then work for hours constructing their own home. In the space of a week my parents had crashed their uninsured car, discovered Patti was on the way and my Dad got drafted. Our parents have endured meager times, crossing an ocean on a raft to reach a new life, crossed a desert twice in an overheating VW bug (with the heater on, no less!) and raised kids that never had to truly worry about having a roof over their heads, food on the table or love in the home. Did we notice? Not really. My father was always the image of confidence and strength. The never takes a sick day kind of guy that I will never forget seeing in a hospital in Boston after surgery. Suddenly I was capable of seeing that he was human…that someday I would have to say goodbye and despite being a grown man I wanted so much to NOT see that future. He arrived in this country without an education or knowing the language and made himself a success I think mostly due to his stubbornness – he never doubted that he would do it and so he simply did. Mabel’s father risked his very life simply to have a chance to live in the US, yet he expressed sympathy for my “plight” of being laid off. I have seen in him the ability to change his perceptions and find new ways to express his affection at an age where most men are “stuck in their ways” and am amazed by it. They, more than anybody, would dismiss what they did as simply what had to be done. Maybe. But I’m humbled by them and respect them deeply as fathers and more importantly as people.
Our mothers have tremendous senses of humor, but there’s profoundly more than that in them. They have a warmth and a depth of love that only mothers achieve. Despite the cost (and the ready local availability of produce, this *is* California) we receive regular shipments of groceries from Mabel’s mother. Why? She knows we miss silly little things and that’s just her way. Heck, more than once I received a 24-pack of toilet paper because “it was one sale mi hijo!”…while I’ve never been quite sure if that was a hint on my personal hygiene, I certainly appreciated the thought behind it. When I asked for Mabel’s hand, her mother simply said simply “my son, of course” as if it was the silliest question she had ever heard. It was an honor that I don’t think she even realized she had bestowed on me. My Mom would sing us to sleep and has a limitless well of goofiness that makes those around her feel good. I mean everyone around her – people on the street, strangers, animals…anyone. Her infectious good nature and kindness are a quality that few people share and yet to her it’s just her. These women indelibly shaped our lives and gave us everything they could to make our lives easier than theirs and don’t think anything of it.
Frequently, we resisted. Questioned. Rebelled. That’s the nature of children I suppose – that’s how they leave the nest, that’s how they discover their way. Our parents tried to protect us from heartbreak, from bumps and bruises, from the bad things that life can bring. Now I understand, I appreciate and I aspire to do as close to a good of a job as they did. They, like us, were young, scared, challenged and hopeful. Now I get it
…yeah, I know the photo doesn’t fit – had a nice ride and the posting kinda changed direction on me.