I was born of immigrant parents. Picture the movie "My Big Fat Greek wedding" and you will get a sense of my world. Plenty of home cooked meals, music in the air, frequent dances, and an astronomical amount of drama. And six siblings just trying to survive it all.
Dad was the dictator and chief of the household, and my mother was a gentle and dutiful angel. When Mom and Dad immigrated to Chicago from South America in the early '50s, life was not so easy in the Midwest for them. They didn't speak the language, didn't have two pennies to rub together, hadn't experienced discrimination before, but what they did have, was an adventurous spirit and a strong support system of my Dad's parents and siblings (Think Corleone family without the terror and violence). Dad was very popular around town in the old country, "They called me Tarzan," he would often say. He was involved in the family rubber business back in South America, dabbled in gymnastics, was extremely strong, debonair, fearless and well liked. Unfortunately, the pressures of such a dramatic new life in America...broke his spirit a bit, and I believe he experienced a nervous breakdown early on in his journey. I don't think he was ever quite the same again.
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We had a loud and tumultuous home life. By loud, I mean Dad was loud (more on that later). Us kids were dutiful, and doing our best to dodge the brimstone and fireworks at every turn. My siblings would probably tell you that I was a little spoiled, but by my definition I think they're out of their minds. Although, I do concede that I was fed very well. Even in my teenage years, while I was at work, I can recall that one of my siblings at all times seemed to be placed on kitchen duty by my Mother, "Go take some food for lunch to your sister Mia." Come to think of it, I really do need to thank my sisters for their benevolent gestures.
Mom was not a physically affectionate person whatsoever, but she demonstrated her love to us kids in many ways. She was a Nightingale of sorts. A gourmet chef. A peacemaker...even if we didn't recognize it at the time. If there was a "hint" of an ailment in the air with one of us kids, cabbage or chicken soup was right around the corner. Whisha! Like a soup ninja a steaming bowl of her medicine broth would appear right next to you. I would often mutter to myself, "Dang, I didn't even think I said it out loud that I was in pain." She was the same with the house maintenance, and our bedrooms. Ninja I tell you, my room was spotless, Downy smelling clothes hung up and color-coded. All without complaint for six children. Oh, how I miss you Mami. She would say that one day we would all grow up and have to do it for ourselves, and wanted us to not have to work so hard for now. In the old country, she had house assistants growing up that would prepare the meals, and clean their house every day. She lived like a princess in many ways in those days. Occasionally, I still think Mom is going to clean up after me.
Until tomorrow...
Ha! I finished at 1:11 and I noticed the date is 11/1 (more on that later)
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