| Peach Potpourri |
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Heart! ~ If you are not a subscriber and this has been passed on to you, join us by sending a blank e-mail to four_ears @ msn.com (remove spaces) with "subscribe" in the subject line. And get the love direct! Tour our web site: http://www.geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001 ________________________________________________________ "The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance; the wise grows it under his feet." - James Oppenheim ________________________________________________________ Folks, give a Texas-sized welcome to a "Stories of Heart" newcomer: Aubrey Morgan! Find out what links her mother to the doting mothers across the ocean in one small Italian village. Thank you, Aubrey, for your heartfelt tribute. ________________________________________________________ PEACH POTPOURRI He stuffed his suitcase with white button-down shirts, then lugged it to the bus station and had it loaded on the bus. It would be delivered to his mother's village where she would pick it up that afternoon. Cut to the next scene. After his mother pressed the shirts, she layered them carefully in her son's suitcase. Her face glowed as she glanced shyly into the camera. She would return the ironed shirts to her son through the bus route. This was a weekly ritual connecting mother and son in Italy. The show "60 Minutes," documenting this ritual, clued me in to a long- standing trend, at least in one particular village: mothers indulging their bachelor sons. Another scene showed a mother proudly tidying up the bedroom of her bachelor son, who had gone to work. She made his bed, washed his clothes, then mounted a bicycle to head to the market where she would hand-pick fresh ingredients for his dinner. This mother was over 70 years old. These snapshots from an obscure Italian village fascinated me. It was a way of life that would be considered antiquated by most here in America. Ingrained in this Italian village was the maxim that "family comes first." The most ideal situation, according to this documentary, was that the son marry, bring his wife home, and the family unit remain intact. "I would not want my son to marry an American woman," proclaimed one father. He felt an American woman would drag his son away to another house or -- God forbid -- another village where they may not see each other as often. But if the son did not find a mate, he lived at home for as long as his parents were alive to care for his needs. Then everybody lived happily ever after. That is...except the mayor. To paraphrase the flustered man, "If these bachelors do not get married, I will need to start taxing them. How else can we keep our schools and other businesses open? Without children I'm afraid our village will die." It was hard though for a bachelor these days to find a nice girl like his mother, happy to tend home and hearth and husband. Many of the Italian women tired of the old ways and moved on. Hence, the growing numbers of bachelors staying at home with their parents. I thought of my own mother and her sheer happiness in doting on my father. It was a role she truly enjoyed and took great pride in. She relished the roles of wife and mother and read every book she could on how to keep perfect harmony and balance in our home. She made June Cleaver look like a slob. She invented shortcuts before "Hints from Heloise" became a household name. Yet I didn't see that growing up. With the advent of bra-burning and birth control pill, I saw my chance to break the mold and pursue my dreams. Catering to a husband was not on my agenda. Spotless faucets and five-course meals were crossed off my list as well. I looked down on other women who chose outdated roles. Couldn't they see they were stifling their potential? It wasn't until I married a man with two children from a previous marriage that I finally understood my mother. All the time I was fostering my independence, I failed to see that it was her profession by choice. She lived and breathed her role as if it were the most important task at hand. And who was I to say it was any less? Didn't I always say that doing a job well was a prescription for fulfillment? And that is how I came to be sitting in front of this documentary, my eyes watering. That little village in Italy had it right all along. Family should come first. And we don't see enough of this in America. In the old days I would've booed those Italian mothers for catering to their sons and husbands. Just like I did my own mother. But these days all I want to do is talk to my mother one more time. Hand her some tea, massage her feet, and ask her how she made those yeast rolls so airy. Why the rooms always smelled of peach potpourri, which Bible passage was her favorite, how come she never looked tired at day's end. My mother was a housewife. And I wanted to let you know she did one hell of a job. Mary Grace Schult 1928 - 1991 Aubrey Morgan AubreySMorgan @ hotmail.com Copyright © 2002 by Aubrey Morgan. All rights reserved. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ About the author: My family calls me the happy hooker because I love rug hooking! I surround myself with positive people and positive thoughts. _________________________________________________________ QUOTES FROM LESSER KNOWN FOLKS During a physical exam, I divulged to the new nurse-practitioner that I was hearing impaired and was an avid lip-reader. "Oh, I hope you're okay with me," she said, "because I've been told I talk very fast." "Don't worry," I said, chuckling. "I'm a speed-reader." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When eating at a Mexican food restaurant the other night, seven-year- old Cody was perusing the menu. "I don't know what I want," he said, sighing. "I'll just wait till the food gets here, and then I'll decide." _________________________________________________________ FROM OUR FRIENDLY E-MAIL CARRIER Jennifer, Hi ,I laughed when I read the story of your son eating or trying to eat the fish's eye. I used to eat these animal parts too when I was younger about his age and older till I was in my early adulthood. As an adult I no longer eat fish eyes, chicken feet, snails, cow tongue, and tail. He is such a smart child with a conscience. I enjoy reading your sharing about parenthood and childhood experiences. - sandra _________________________________________________________ ON THE HOMEFRONT Many of you have asked about a progress report on Stephen's "heeling." He's no longer using a wheelchair! He's managed to squeeze his right foot into a shoe while his left foot is still in an open-toed boot. Although still in a great deal of pain, he's taking it one "step" at a time. At day's end he removes his boot, and he crawls to bed. One acquaintance, who shattered the bones in his heel like Stephen did, had to do a double take. This acquaintance spent a whole year and a half in a wheelchair, and here was Stephen being upright after only three months. Which goes to show, you just can't keep a good man down. _________________________________________________________ LOVE, JENNIFER I. OLIVER AND FAMILY four_ears @ msn.com "To live that in thy last long sleep, Smiles my be thine wile all around thee weep." - Nellie L. Wallace, June 24, 1873 _________________________________________________________ This E-mail may be forwarded in its entirety, but first ask the writer for permission before forwarding. Thank you for doing the decent thing! Ü ________________________________________________________ SUBMIT STORY, QUOTE, OR FAMILY LOVE MOMENT: http://www.geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001/submission.htm FEEDBACK: four_ears @ msn.com ________________________________________________________ |
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