So OK...we have TBT...throwback Thursday...but I am going BIG on this on a TBT eve. My birthday is August 29th and so my gifts as a kid ended up invariably being Back to School stuff. Just how it went back in the 50s and 60s. Especially when your mom was a widow...a single mom/provider/friend/amazing woman. You made do when you could...without apology or guilt. And when you were a kid...it was okay...as long it wasnt new underwear. I found some school ephemera last weekend...report cards, etc. that Mom had kept and a powerful memory rocked my brain and comforted my heart. You see, I was a typical kid that wanted new roller skates...a doll...who the hell remembers what toy was held in your dreams. I think you stop yearning at a certain point because that isnt in the cards for a kid whose father had died and whose mother who went to work downtown and money was so tight that a nickel had serious significance and consequence in your life. And you lived in Melone Village. But then...I am not bitter about the struggle we had. In fact, I recognize that my friends were likewise brought up by parents who knew the value of a nickel. Worked hard. Loved us. Hoped for us. Dreamed big dreams for us...and when they could...invested in that dream. Inspired is a better word. My mother never complained that she worked six days a week...then she came home and cleaned and did our laundry. She filled the cupboards and the Amana refrigerator with food for our bodies. She saw to it that we went to church every Sunday while she did her chores and forewent the very succor she needed for her own soul. I never opened either the cupboard or the refrigerator to help myself because everything had been carefully accounted for. She made our clothes and when she couldnt due to time and expertise, she bought on layaway and at church bazaars. Mom was uncanny in finding the best labels...I have that knack still. And she hugged us and kissed us every...EVERY day. We were loved. With ferocity. In all that she did...extras were at her expense. She went without...and that option was so dear and deep that it was as rare as a snowflake in August. There was only a whisper of room for indulgence. Where am I going with this? My birthday. She made me a cake and bought Neapolitan ice cream..exotic...vanilla, chocolate and strawberry...and we sang happy birthday and I was kissed and hugged and to this day... I can still smell her perfume. The gifts were back to school..position notebooks, pencils and when I was older...binders, three hole -filler paper, pens and a new outfit for the first day. She saved up for a full year to make that happen. I was so lucky to have friends that are still special to me today. Birthday parties were not a possibility in my world...and yet one happened. My sixteenth birthday was celebrated at the Genesee Street home of my life-long friend, Mickey Alger-Oneill...a surprise thanks to Mickey and her kind mother. Even to this day and counting ...some 23 days away...I always hold that generosity of spirit in my heart. I will be 67 on this next birthday...and have wondrous children and grandchildren...great friends and family that I adore...especially those from Auburn that are always part of my heart and who I am ...and it is a good life overall. I think I will like a new notebook and some pens for my birthday. With the possible humble hope for a glass of wine to share with you all when we meet again next year for our 50th class reunion...at sunset...overlooking Owasco Lake. Join me? See you there. I can only promise you this...a heart-felt and loving hug and appreciation for our journey together in becoming the good people that we are. I am who I am because you are my friends...I hope that I live up to that great legacy. Cheers.
Posted on: Thu, 07 Aug 2014 01:24:54 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015