Mom and Dad
After four boys and twenty five years, Mr. and Mrs. James’ marriage dissolved. Up until now none of their four boys could figure out why. From seemingly out of nowhere it just happened with little or no fanfare; just a simple announcement that they had decided to part ways.
Shocked and angry are the two words that most accurately describe how the children handled the announcement. Who was to blame for this?
As divorces tend to do, two camps formed up; picking and jabbing at each other with neither side even remotely interested in compromise. This was clearly a black and white issue; the grey in the middle simply didn't exist.
While the other boys chose a side, I tried like hell to stay out of the mess. Yeah, that didn’t work worth a shit. I was an ant on a beach trying desperately to build a dam to hold back the oncoming tsunami.
Without getting into too much detail there was a time when I didn’t talk to either of my parents for a very long period. The delicate, well organized and slightly OCD balance that was my life had been destroyed with all the subtlety of a battle axe to the forehead. Forgiveness would prove to be a very, very, slow process.
But fortunately, time, distance, and forgiveness did win out over strife and undying hatred. The boys regrouped and got on with their lives; Mom and Dad remarried and are now on friendly terms. In fact, so friendly that Mom and Dad can be found at family functions, talking to each other’s spouses -- laughing and enjoying their company. It all seems very genuine to me, but if it isn’t I don’t want to know. I am more than content to let life play on as is…..
It has only been recently, when I could spend time with them separately, that I began understand the differences in their personalities that led me to have a much better understanding of their divorce.
Dad was the first to visit after I had moved back home. The first thing he did was mow and weed eat my lawn -- which I found kind of strange. Dad had owned a lawn mowing business but got out of it. I thought sure he was sick of yard work and only mowed his own lawn when he absolutely had to. But, after he finished with my yard he told me that mowing had always relaxed him and that some of the best ideas he ever had come from the seat of his mower. So…..I had made an erroneous assumption.
The second thing dad did was to unload a wooden picnic table and swing for my front yard. Both wood working productions from his second business and a way to keep himself busy over the winter.
While dad liked mowing, I believe he loves his wood working projects in his shop even more. Dad would make picnic tables, Adirondack chairs, swings, corn hole games, toy trucks and trains, rubber band guns, bird houses, on and on and on. He would then load up his goodies and go from craft show to craft show, content to sit in a chair, sell some products, and shoot the breeze with any and all who stopped by to visit. His income may not be as much as when he was one of the many working stiffs, but I think he is enjoying his retirement a helluva lot more than any one day he spent earning a paycheck. His absolute favorite time of year is November and December when he is selling his wooden toys --- and maybe even just giving few away if he comes across a kid that he just can't let walk away from his booth without a toy....Sometimes I think he imagines himself as a poor man's Santa Claus....Hell, sometimes I think of him as a poor man's Santa Claus; and that makes me feel good.
Dad, deliberate as always, found nice, shady spots to place the picnic table and swing. Afterwards we hobnobbed for a bit over a cup of coffee; talking just about life in general and enjoying each other’s company. The more I talk to Dad the more I see how very similar we are.
Dad has never been a big adventure guy. In fact, he reminds me a lot of a hobbit. He doesn’t spend much time worrying about what goes on beyond his borders. His work and hobbies indicate that this is a man who is very comfortable living a solitary lifestyle. Dad is at peace -- when not working in the garage or in his garden -- sitting on one of the swings he made, drinking coffee, and quietly watching the world go by.
When I was a kid my grandma used to sit in her rocking chair and say “ho hum”. But grandma didn’t mean ho hum in a bad way; in fact quite the opposite. Ho hum was a very good thing. Ho hum meant that you were kicking back and enjoying the fruits of a quiet, honest, clean living. And to my Dad, there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Ho Hum is a wonderful thing.
The longer I am around Dad the more I realize that I too, am a ho hum person. I began to wonder exactly what it was that I was trying to run away from the day I graduated from high school and bolted town.
Actually, that’s not true at all. I did know what I was running from. Part of it was that I did not enjoy high school at all and felt a strong desire to break away; to dispose of my self despised identity and rebuild a new one. Another part of me just wasn’t ready to accept the fact that I was going to live a “boring” life like my dad.
Fast forward to today......Boring is good. Boring is simple and quiet. Boring gives me time to get lost in my own thoughts. Boring means that I don’t have to go to company parties and fail miserably making small talk with people I don’t know. Boring doesn’t involve plane tickets, passports, crowds, traffic, and all the noise that comes with being in the concrete jungle.
Boring is sitting on the open front porch of a simple little house out in the country, feeling the breeze in your face and hearing the birds chirping in the trees. Boring is a rock road in the country outside of a sleepy small town that sees an occasional pickup or tractor going by. Boring is gazing up at the clear blue sky and getting lost in them.
Boring is anything but boring. Boring is, always was, and always will be, where I find my peace of mind.....
Mom, who lives in another small town now, arrived at my doorstep the following weekend and brought with her a flurry of restless activity.
From the minute Mom walked in until the moment she left there was never a dull moment. She be-bopped in the door and announced that she had brought coffee; which meant that we were going to be busy all day.
In short order the sounds of banging of pots and pans filled the kitchen as mom handed me a knife and pointed me in the direction of a roast that she had set on a cutting board. When she was satisfied that I was doing my job correctly she began talking. From then on the conversation never stopped.
Where conversation between dad and I was low key and, with a few exceptions, never really involved our own personal lives, Mom was hitting up her eldest son with a barrage of personal questions.
Are you back for good?
Are you eating right?
You need to exercise son....
Are you taking vitamins?
What happened with you and Lacey?
On and on and on the grilling and the prying went; to the point where I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. So you can imagine my relief when the conversation switched back to mom.
My mom is from the Philippines; a very poor island nation where her journey into education never made it past the eighth grade. But, as I would find out years later, her lack of education, while hindering her at times, did nothing to slow her down. I firmly believe that it was growing up poor that gave her the dream big mentality she now possesses.
The kitchen was bombarded with all the wonderful smells of my childhood. Fried rice, marinated pork chops, chicken adobo, pancit, and, of course, a big pot of rice from the new, and very expensive, rice cooker that mom gave me as a house warming gift.
Listening to mom talk now is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, like listening to a completely different person then I grew up knowing. As her four boys grew up, mom took on the old school traditional roll of staying home and raising them. She did the cooking, the cleaning, went to parent teacher conferences and ball games. She lived a ho hum, small town lifestyle.
It took a few months for her to get emotionally reset after the divorce; but as soon as she got her bearings about her, Mom spread her wings and went in a whole different direction then what I was expecting. She went out and got a job, started going out with new friends that she had made, got a membership to a gym, bought her first car and started exploring the world.
After she got remarried, Mom started to travel and take big vacations. She began hosting big hog roasts every year and Filipinos seemingly came out of the woodwork to attend. Where were all these people before?
Mom had gone from stay at home mom to socialite. She was enjoying her life in a way that I had never seen before. I had never realized just how opposite she and dad were. In retrospect I am now certain that being totally opposite personalities lead to their parting of ways. For Dad, the world was much too big and needed to be shrunk down. For Mom the world could not be big enough.
As I stated earlier, the divorce hit all the boys hard. But several years later it has become obvious to all of us that it was for the better. If they are getting along and happy with who they are then, hey, what have we got to complain about?
Mom dominated the conversation as she talked about her future plans; how many vacations she was going to take and how often she was going to fly back to the Philippines to visit family. The conservative part of me wondered about her retirement and whether or not she was investing any of her money but I refrained from comment. She’s married now and it’s really none of my business what she does with her time and money. I figure she can hash those details out with my stepdad.
After all the many hours of cooking mom refused to step aside and let me wash the dishes. So I continued to drink my coffee while mom continued to chatter. When the dishes were done Mom, seemingly in the blink of an eye, packed up her things, said good bye, and sped away in her Camry. She was gone -- just like that.
As my four foot eleven mother with a lead foot hauled ass down the dry dirt road, kicking up dust as she went, I wished she would slow down a bit. But, that would be going against the grain for her. Mom is living life full throttle now; no sense in trying to change that.
As she sped away I wondered if maybe Lacey and I broke it off at the right time. You know, before we had kids and built a life together. I’m having a hard enough time starting over now. I can’t imagine rebuilding my life after twenty five years and kids.
Then I thought, no, I didn’t break it off at the right time. I shouldn’t have broken it off at all. I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up Lacey’s number --- but I just can’t get myself to call. I really screwed up and I can’t see how she will ever forgive me.
I'll admit ------ I'm paralyzed by the fear of rejection.
I walk into the kitchen and pour the rest of the coffee out of my cup and into the sink. I’ve done nothing but swill java since mom got here and I’m starting to get heart palpitations......No Bueno...
I pull out my phone and dial up Kenny.
“Hello?” answered Kenny.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Not much, what are you up to?”
“Mom stopped by for a visit. She cooked a whole ton of food.”
“Shit.....I’ll be right over.”
No comments:
Post a Comment