Remembrances of Christmases Past, Part 3
Writing by treason on Wednesday, 28 of December , 2005 at 2:05 pm
…My mother was determined to avoid her crazy Italian family. She kept us away from relatives successfully when we were in Chicago, but when we moved to Arizona, I was reintroduced to my half-sister, her husband, and aunts, uncles, and cousins I hadn’t known. I adored my uncle and his Maltese wife and wished I could move to Phoenix and stay with them. They had two refrigerators in the kitchen. For some reason that impressed me. My cousins - their daughters - were exotic beauties. One looked Egyptian and walked around in a negligee and would go outside in it to roll around with her two Afghan hounds. Again, this made an impression.
Another uncle was there. His wife was Mexican and I adored her, too. She was exciting and cooked all things spicy. Everyone had fabulous food and fabulous dogs. The downside was the fabulous ticks. When we got off the plane in California, both my mother and I were hosting a few. I’ll spare you all the details. (I even found a couple in my pink fuzzy slippers. Ugh.)
I didn’t want to leave the non-stop adventure that was Arizona. But my mother left my sister and all our pets behind, and the two of us moved to the Bay Area. We stayed with another uncle who lived in a small bachelor’s apartment over a garage. It was rented out by an old Italian couple. I loved them and enjoyed going to their house downstairs and across the small yard, playing with their dog, and drinking red wine out of water glasses. My only bad memory was polenta.
My uncle had a great dog, too, and we ended up moving into a house next door to the old Italian couple and their garage apartment. They owned that property, too. It was a typical California bungalow and there were lemons and loquats growing everywhere. Again, I had no clue that we were desperately poor. I thought that when my mother had me picking mustard greens in the apricot orchards it was because she wanted to introduce me to new Italian dishes. My uncle kept jars of dried mushrooms in the house; I remember my mother would cook small bits of bacon with the mushrooms and mustard greens and we would eat that. A lot. And I remember all the fruit. So many apricots and so many lemons. I’m amazed I still have enamel on my teeth.
It was glorious. And when my mother started working in a little Italian restaurant, she found a split level apartment and bought trendy new furniture for it. It was the most wonderful place in the universe. Life was perfect. And then she slipped on the wet ice plant, fell over the overpass, and exploded her knee.
Category: Uncategorized
- Add this post to
- Del.icio.us -
- Digg -
No comments yet.
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.
