Continuing from A Look Back – Part IV

I was reminded the other day to remember what my current assignment is. My main purpose at this time is to relate my history. To this point I have avoided speaking of what is past as it concerns my mom. I have been asked questions pertaining to my mother and my experience with her when I was a child. Here are some examples of the questions I’ve been asked about my mom. Today I’ll attempt to answer the first two questions and answer the others later.

What did you and your mom do together for fun when you were a child?

Were there any events or family vacations that focused on your mother?

What is the most important advice you received from your mother?

What are your favorite memories of your mother?

At the time of this writing my mom is 80 years old. She still works and is in reasonably good health. She has been widowed three times. To me my mom has always been a bit of an enigma…a mystery. My perception of her when I was a boy and my perception of her now are much different. My understanding…or misunderstanding of her continues to evolve even now. To be clear, anything I say about my mom is based on my flawed perception as a child and as an adult. My interpretation of my memories may be completely inaccurate. I say that so that anyone who reads these lines understands that they shouldn’t adopt my opinions as gospel. More importantly it is absolutely not my intent to cause my mom any hurt or disappointment.

The reason why my mom remains a mystery to me is that I never felt or believed that I had access to her inner self…her heart. Getting to know my mom has been a lifetime endeavor. I’m pretty sure we had an appropriate mother and son relationship. My mom kept a percolator* cord handy in a kitchen drawer for those times when my tone or actions challenged the boundaries of what was appropriate. In any event anything I know of my mother I learned from the outside looking in. I think I know as much as I can know about her without access to the inside.

It occurs to me that perhaps my own children may have similar perceptions about me. Do they believe, “I know my dad from the outside looking inward but not from the inside looking outward.” I have 6 or 7 children and I have learned something. There have been times when I have invited each of them individually to see me from the inside. At the point of invitation they all refused me. My oldest son rebuffed me firmly and unkindly. The others were more polite and I got the message that felt something like this, “You know what? That’s okay. I’m good.” At the time it felt like rejection but what it all really meant was, “Not yet…or I’m not ready for that.” Looking back I appreciate their integrity. They understood at some level that they couldn’t enter into such a relationship with me unless they were also willing to give me the same access I offered them. The thing I learned is that extending the invitation was not enough…the invitation had to be accepted.

It could be that if…or when…my mother had extended a similar invitation to me as I did to my own children I too would have said, “No thanks.” Why would I say that? At the time I didn’t want to know her that deeply and more importantly I wanted to minimize her knowledge of me. My sons and daughters probably felt just as I did. I felt alone in my struggles. I felt that she would have been ashamed of me…even if I was willing to speak of them. As it turned out there was nothing very unusual about my inner life when I was young…she probably already knew the struggles that teenage boys live through…but she never offered any assistance and more importantly I never asked. In fairness to my mom the struggles I had would have been better dealt with by a man…my dad.

As it concerns my own children, especially the older ones there have been times in the middle of heartbreak and disaster when they knocked on my heart’s door and said, “Let’s talk.” If it were within my power I would have shielded and protected them from the very thing that brought them to my door. Sometimes I’m not sure what to do with the things I think about. It pleases me that they reached out to me. It was the thing I always wanted from them. While at the same time I am so angry with God for allowing my daughter to be left broken in a ditch somewhere in the back country of Guatemala…she was forever changed…damaged…but she loves her dad. My grandson Mason got to live for one day before God took him. I can’t see beyond my anger and grief…but my son loves his dad. But I get by…I get by by believing that there must be more to their stories than maintaining my own personal relevance in the heart’s of my children.

When I think about the questions that I’m supposed to be answering about my mother they seem irrelevant…maybe even funny when compared with the dynamic that was our life. I remember no thought about fun activities my mom and I could do together. Vacation planning wasn’t ever focused exclusively on my mom. My parents took their children all over the United States. My brothers and sister and I as children visited every theme park in Florida that was available during the 1970’s. I can’t remember the number of times we went to Disney World either as a family or on field trips with our school. On a regular basis we went to the Florida Keys. We camped, fished, and snorkeled for days and days. I didn’t appreciate it then but now I think, “Who has the time or the money to do what we did as often as we did it?” As a child and teenager I had everything I needed and much of what I wanted. I really don’t think I’ve done as good a job at that sort of thing as my parents did.

*A percolator is an antiquated kitchen appliance that was used for the brewing of coffee. Its electric cord was detachable to facilitate the cleaning of the percolator pot. It was adopted as a disciplinary tool by moms 25 to 30 years prior to the turn of the century.