I’ve had a lot more time to talk to my mother, lately. She has a voracious appetite for news and personal interpretations. I talk to her at length, sometimes. The whole experience has moved on from recriminations and barbed comments about my upbringing…now we REALLY talk.
As we chat, old memories resurface and old things are polished for a new view.
I must have been around ten, when I first realised that there was much more to my ma than I’d previously thought.
It’s a bit hazy, for some reason, but I clearly remember what happened to make me look at my ma in a new light…I just don’t recall when that day was.
As with such recollections, I can’t remember what I had for breakfast, or indeed why I was in the front room of the two-up two-down on such a sunny day…but I do remember the golden shafts of light that crept thru the heavy curtains into the permanently dim room. My ma was around 30 by then, and had done a pretty good job of keeping it together for a couple of years – long enough to build confidences, friends…and the occasional dusk-loving piece of antique furniture. I can’t remember why exactly, but we didn’t have a vacuum – making chores difficult.
Anyway, for some reason, I was in the front room with ma, when the door to the street burst open with shouts… It was Jamey, one of the ‘bigger-kids’ we used to play amongst the ‘bomb-pecks’ with; a stalwart who’d be just as easy jumping 30foot onto a couple of salvaged mattresses, as he was pulling the smaller kids around in a home-made plank-motor go-cart.
On this day,after his explosive entrance, he fell onto the rug shouting, “Pat! Pat! Two big nig-nogs are kicking seven shades of shite out of yer eldest!!”
To a kid my age, this was a clarion-call to look for my big brother and do what I could to help…so imagine my surprise when my mom stiffened, turned to look at Jamey and instead berated him. What she said for the next few minutes would change my life; “I beg your pardon, James…WHAT did you say?”, demanded my ma.
Jamey quickly thought, and said instead, “There’s two big nig-nogs battering yer eldest, down the road there, Mrs!”
“I BEG YOUR PARDON?!”, thundered my ma – surprising myself and Jamey to the point of being dumbstruck.
With both me and him standing there and looking like a couple of eejits, my mom put us both out if our misery, by explaining,”We DON’T say nig-nog in this house!”.
I honestly don’t know what happened immediately after that, but the scenario and words stuck in my mind forever…recently gaining new poignancy as my ma needed more and more care; as I thought more and more about who this woman actually is, and what effect she had on my life.
So, it was with the most gentle humour and understanding of everything good and bad that my ma gave to me, that I found new heart both in my own recollections and her own rememberences, when, after a recent talk about New Things in my life, my ma struck me dumb once more, with the words,”You shouldn’t have said anything about moustaches…its cruel.”
So, despite my tale of people abusing positions of power to abuse me, digging up my facepic, publishing my address, calling me a grass, threats of violence, etc…it was all down to my ma to distillate it all down to a sentence that I had forgotten I serve, still…
Be True To Yourself, and
Never Lower Yourself To Their Level.
Here’s to my Auld Ma
“Malicious acts are performed by people for personal gain … Sorcerers, though, have an ulterior purpose for their acts, which has nothing to do with personal gain. The fact that they enjoy their acts does not count as gain. Rather, it is a condition of their character. The average man acts only if there is a chance for profit. Warriors say they act not for profit but for the spirit.” ― Carlos Castaneda
“A Warrior lives by acting, not thinking about acting, nor thinking about what they will think when they have finished acting.” ―
Hi…just a word to say that, after recent news, I have had to make drastic decisions as regards the focus of my energies.
I’m going to have to change my phone number, move home and deal with a mountain of paperwork…all while dealing with a mum who’s refusing to go into hospital, and who wants to either be ‘buried in a card-board box’ or ‘donated to science’. I love my old dear, but she’s been pretty depressed about stuff for a while, and its hard to shake her out of it. She has been able to write her own history for years, and I tried to be as kind as I could, when she asked me to relate my version.
Some things are better left unsaid, no matter how much a question needs answerin’. Needless, to say, she’s kinda defensive about me now. She’s still the protecting lioness from my ceaseless childhood. God, I love my ma.
With a bit of luck, I can keep a closer eye on her, now…and the babbies said they’ll help – bless ‘em.
I don’t know what’ll happen in the next few months, but apart from the odd word, I am closing things down on t’interwebs for the foreseeable future.
I cannot, for reasons I will not reveal, talk about certain things, or partake on certain forums, but suffice to say, I have handed all my findings to those who can do most with it.
…but, to date, I have had no unrequested visits/calls/letters from cops, solicitors, or bike gangs…anyone saying saying different is a moustachioed phoney with halitosis.
As usual, I welcome comment and read all of them you send… but I don’t publish them – but will when I suss out how to do it.
All my love,