I’m trying something new in 2016 for the “Diary” part of this blog. Each month, Dana from KissMyList.com will give a prompt for a virtual scrapbook entry that tells a story about Who I Am. If you’d like to join, see Dana’s Tell Your Story post. This month’s prompt asked participants to write about their childhood.
When my mom dispensed wisdom, it usually came like a slap: strong and direct, with a bit of sting.
The first time I remember her advice-giving, I was about six. We were living in Milwaukee, a few blocks away from my grandmother. Mom had just been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, and Dad had just left for a tour of duty in Korea. Of course, I didn’t know the adult stuff. I just knew I saw my grandmother more and had these new people called cousins in my life.
The event that prompted Mom’s advice was ordinary enough: a walk home from school. It felt like an odyssey back then, but it was just four blocks. I wore my red coat with the fur-lined hood that Aunt Kathy gave me, and probably hideous plaid pants that everyone loved in the ‘70s. I walked with my best friend on one side, and on the other, a girl who was friends with both of us but whom I regarded with caution. She’d tossed my shoes into a puddle the first week of kindergarten. Unfortunately, she lived near us, so we were stuck with her.
On this particular day, a first grader named Jimmy Galbraith walked ahead of us. He had curly dark hair, a crooked smile, and my hopeless devotion. Unfortunately, the girls with me knew this. I missed most of their conversation, daydreaming about Jimmy as I floated along the sidewalk twenty yards behind him.
After a block or so, shouting brought me crashing back to earth.
Untrustworthy Girl was yelling at Jimmy and his friends. They turned to look at us. She poked my shoulder. “She likes you! She likes you! Beat her up! Beat her up!”
My body burned crimson under my coat. I struggled to breathe, played off my tears as a reaction to the bitter wind blowing off Lake Michigan. Best Friend told Untrustworthy Girl to shut up.
Jimmy shook his head and turned away, continuing his walk home.
Sobs of humiliation threatened to burst out of every orifice in my head, but I stumbled on with lips pressed together and tears subdued until I got to my apartment. Once safe inside with Mom, I deteriorated into snot and tears. Mom was a good listener, but never a coddler. When I finished my story, she handed me a tissue and said, “I’m sorry this happened, but why in the world did you tell those girls? Next time, be more careful who you trust, and never tell anybody who you like.”
I remembered this advice when I was ten, and the principal’s daughter wanted blackmail material on me, and thirteen, when my friends insisted we play Truth or Dare.
Mom had more valuable wisdom as I grew up:
- Always say good-bye and I love you; never part angry. (Meaning – you’d better kiss me goodnight and tell me you love me before you stomp off, daughter.)
- Never put anything sensitive in a note; it might come back to haunt you. (Modern translation: Never say anything potentially offensive on social media; it will never go away.)
- Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face. (In other words, don’t refuse to eat your lunch just because your friends didn’t save a space for you. They won’t care and you’ll just end up hungry.)
I had 25 years with my mom, enough time to store up plenty of her frank, and sometimes cynical, advice, but not enough time to understand the complex mix of strength, disappointment, and frustration caught inside a body wrecked by neurological disease.
Pneumonia, a side effect of her illness, stole her from me twenty years ago this month. I will be forever thankful that I was with her at the end. I told her I loved her, and we weren’t angry when we parted.
What were some defining moments from your childhood?
If you’d like to join this virtual scrapbook project, click the photo above to visit Dana’s blog and learn more.
Thanks for reading!
What a beautiful story. It sounds like your mom really had an impact on you and that you really loved her and respected her advice. I hope that I am able to impart such wisdom to my own daughter as she grows older. Thank you for sharing your story!
Beautiful, Julia. So much insight into your life (and the neurological disease shows up in your book!) Made me a bit teary, too…thanks for writing. I should do this.
You should Amy! It’s just once a month, and you kind of do this anyway.
How wonderful to learn more about you, Julia. You and I are the same age, I think – I had those plaid pants, and a pair of roller skates that looked just like your ice skates. I’m so sorry you lost your mom to MS; you clearly have so many memories of how much she loved you. She certainly gave good advice; you describe her in a way that reminds me of my grandmother – “don’t cut off your nose to spite your face” was one of her favorite phrases.
I’m so glad you are joining this project – it’s good to mix things up a little, isn’t it?
Indeed! I’m excited for this opportunity to try something new and meaningful. Thanks for the inspiration!
Your mom must have understood the importance of imparting all the wisdom she could in the time she had with you. It clearly was effective since, even though you lost her way too soon, her messages have stayed with you. And wise insights they are.
Maybe she did, Mo. She liked to be prepared, and she liked ME to be prepared. Thanks!
This made me teary-eyed. Thank you so much for the story – and the advice.
You are welcome Debbie. It made me teary to write it.
Oh that gave me goosebumps. I often think about how young my mother was when she lost her mom and I can’t imagine it. I’m glad you have good memories – frank, stern and all. I have wonderful memories of my grandmother, she was definitely no nonsense but made such an impression on my youth.
Thanks Kenya! Nice to “meet” you. 🙂
Aw, Julia, I loved your mom’s advice and honestly was holding back a few tears by the end of your post here as time is so precious. As I was going through old photos myself for my own entry, I just couldn’t believe how so much has changed since I was also a kid and just thankful for all the time I did have with my own parents and grandparents, too to be honest. Hugs and thank you so much for sharing here with us.
Thanks Janine! I think this is going to be a great project for us all. Glad you stopped by. 🙂
Wonderful story, Julia. And good advice.
Thanks, Millie! You write great stories yourself, so I appreciate the compliment. 😉