My
mother was a white Anglo-Saxon Presbyterian, when at 18 years old, she eloped
with my 27 year old Polish Catholic father in defiance of his very orthodox parent’s
protestations. My father, a boot camp draftee during World War II, was then shipped out to
Italy and North Africa for four years without leave. My mother waited faithfully those four years for his joyous return. Because of the fallout from my father's parents extreme disapproval of their elopement, my father fled in fear to Council Bluffs, Iowa after his return, until guilt and remorse led him back to my mother a year later.
▪Lessons
learned: Don’t get married during the teenage years. Don’t marry anyone with
crazy parents. Don’t marry anyone outside of your religious/ cultural
background whose family has it in for you. Don’t marry a man who is
significantly older than you who convinces you love can conquer all. Don’t let
historical events instill romantic delusions into making marital decisions. Look before you leap or
just don’t leap. Don't think waiting is the answer.
Once
my father returned from WWII, my mother (a non-practicing Presbyterian) agreed
to raise all the children Catholic but would not convert to Catholicism. This
forever raised the ire of my Polish Catholic grandparents and my father’s
family, who made her life miserable until the day she died. The Catholic Church also pressured her relentlessly to convert by telling her all of her children were illegitimate in the eyes of the Church. She shrewdly
combated this stonewalling them, steadfastly refusing to acquiesce, and by having her parents and sister live upstairs from our family
home. In the end my mother won: all six of her Catholic educated children are now ex-Catholics.
▪Lessons
learned: Defiance, passive resistance, and the 'language of no' is pretty effective. Know when you are
outnumbered and outgunned-learn the art of subterfuge. You can lose the battle, the war, and your dreams but you can
still have some semblance of control everything through the power of oppositional defiance and the support of familial estrogen. Always know
there is more than one way to outsmart those secretive, disapproving, and
patently stubborn Poles. Agree with the Catholic Church that hell will surely be your disposition, but it is better than joining them. Know you may not live to see divine justice, but it works even against the Catholic Church's oppressive doctrine.
My
mother had six children. The first four were born within five years of my
father’s return from war; the last two were born 10 and 13 years after the
first set, when she was in her late thirties and early forties. She drank beer
and smoked through each of these pregnancies.
▪Lessons
learned: Use birth control. Don’t have children too close together. Having late
in life children is a bad idea. Better yet, don’t have children. Smoking and
drinking during pregnancy may not be good for a fetus but it does help reduce
overall agitation when one has a hoard of children making excessive demands.
My
mother had a lifelong anxiety disorder and was unable to drive because of this
phobia. Aside from this, she was a smart,
verbal, and a grounded woman. She sacrificed her youth and her dreams for being a mother, causing her great frustration and unhappiness. As a
result, she became a rageaholic and had a nervous breakdown in her forties.
▪Lessons
learned: There are no princes who will save you from yourself, in spite of how
good they may look in shiny armor. Getting married and having children are a
poor substitute for a fulfilling a deeper, more purposeful life. Squandering one’s
intelligence being a mother leads to a dependence on Librium and a
beer chaser. Nerves don’t break, but having limited options makes one feel
trapped, anxious, and generally under a doctor’s care for tranquilizers. Learning
to drive opens up avenues of independence. The work world, though having its
own set of limitations, at least provides one with a room of one’s own and
freedom to follow another path. Rage, even if justified, does not bring peace of mind.
As
my mother aged, she retained her beauty but became increasingly bitter, alienating,
and angry. She attempted to divorce my father but gave up when she realized she
could not make it on her own. She died at the age of 58 from a cardiac arrest
following a major stroke.
▪Lessons
learned: Inner happiness trumps physical beauty anytime. Being a product of
your karmic times sucks. It is easier to get divorced earlier than later in
life. Becoming angry, bitter, helpless, and hopeless will kill you just as
effectively as an automatic weapon.
What
other things did I get from my mother?
▪A
strong sense of independence because she had none.
▪An
adventurous spirit because she felt trapped most of her life.
▪No
fear of confronting conflict, intimidation, or bullying because of the fears and frustrations she endured.
▪An
interest in the acquisition of knowledge because she was deprived of this pathway for her intelligence.
▪A
love for reading and my verbal proficiency because she could not fully utilize her strengths in these areas.
▪Never
feeling men are superior to me solely because of their gender.
▪An
indomitable disposition because she felt defeated most of her life.
Happy
Mother’s Day, Ma. Thanks for everything you did and did not teach me.
“When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.” Helen Keller
