My mother would have been 100 years old today... had she still been alive.
I suppose that simply writing those words also serves as a poignant reminder that I am no longer a spring chicken!
We never did much to celebrate my mother's birthday because she had a considerable "streak of vanity" (dating to her younger years as a runway model in New York City) that left her preferring that we never touched on anything that reminded her of passing time, and the aging process.
She often joked — even when I was fairly young — that she could never picture herself as "an old lady," and would add that she expected to die before getting much past sixty. The latter wasn't entirely a reflection of vanity, but also of the fact that she lived with chronic low blood pressure and would occasionally feel so faint that she had to sit down... and even pass out.
Ironically, she made it to the ripe old age of 86, although I expect the deepening dementia of her latter years probably allowed her to become blissfully unaware of such concepts as "time."
Our relationship was — if not outright strained — mostly distant, primarily as a result of the philosophical and ideological chasms between us. "Mommie Dearest" was — in essence — a good old-fashioned conservative racist and bigot... and, when she was "suitably lubricated" (which was most of the time), she operated largely without any kind of social filters.
Her opinions were often riddled with contradictions and opinions that made no sense. For example, she would likely have applauded Donald Trump's approach to politics, but would have dismissed him as "a useless impotent buffoon" purely for being married to a much younger woman. She always could find reasons to "disqualify" even people she purportedly liked and admired.
Such things aside, we always "got along quite well" as long as we limited the topics of conversation to areas in which we both had an interest. I've previously written about our times shared in the kitchen, experimenting with food and new recipes. I learned most of what I know about the basics of cooking from her... and I frequently recognize — all these years later — that I am doing things in the kitchen I learned by watching her.
Along with my dad, she was also significantly accountable for teaching me that "if something is worthwhile doing, it's worthwhile doing WELL." On a regular basis, I have gratitude for that particular value!
In her typical contradictory fashion, she always encouraged me to keep writing, even though she considered the idea of someone being a writer for a living as being akin to voluntarily being "a chronically broke and mentally unstable flake." But she loved that I wrote letters to her, and thought my writing talents would be best applied to keeping correspondences going with "suitable people" around the world, so I could visit them "on my travels."
Never happened, of course...
In a similar fashion, she was usually fascinated by — and interested in — my interest in stamp collecting, but even though I was actually making a living at trading rare stamps, she never acknowledged it as my actual profession, pervasively and persistently questioning me as to when I was planning to "get a REAL job."
Most of the time, we went along through life a tad awkwardly... as often as not, separated by the 6,000-mile distance between the US West coast and Spain, where she and my stepdad retired and spent their golden years.
And so, today marks the 100th birthday of the woman who brought me into this world! I hope she is well and happy, in whatever "dimension" she now occupies!
Thanks for reading and have a great remainder of your week!
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Created at 20220126 14:36 PST
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