My mother's advice

Those of us who were born of immigrant parents without a clue to US culture in mid-Century did a great deal more self-parenting or relied on older sibs. That is not to say that our parents were not wise about life; they just didn't understand the changing and strange world in which they currently lived.

We were pushed to be 'clean plate' kids. One reason, that it would be a sin to throw away food while children were starving in Ethiopia. Another was that God would consider it a sin to throw the last crust of bread away. You were expected to choke it down, instead, I could never understand why God thought that important. I got fatter and children continued starving in Ethiopia and our chickens did well on the bread and other things we didn't eat.

My mother was diligent in her warnings. She was saddened that I seemed different than the ideal daughter she pictured. I grew up hearing her bemoan that I was not as smart or good as two bow-legged cousins whom I knew only from pictures. Once, as I was either reading, playing the piano or behind someone in a leather jacket on a motorcycle, she wanted to know why I wasn't like other girls my age; why I couldn't dress in a nice nightgown and join a nice nightclub! I tried to explain to her that she didn't have that quite right. I think she eventually understood the difference between an evening dress and a nightgown.

When at 17 , in college in a Marriage Course with 57 ex-GI's, an ex-Wave and a Nun, I came home daily, to find her neighbor, a peasant Greek woman, all too eager to cluck over what I was learning in college. We sat drinking rum and coke at 3 or 4 PM as I described what the professor told us, such as, "Be attractive, don't wear heavy flannel nightgowns so that your bodies can't touch". Let alone that a husband was the last thought in my mind and that, to her horror, I usually slept nude. She would come into my bedroom, pull the covers off my shoulders, and lecture me about how ashamed I would be if there was a fire and I had no clothes on when the firemen showed up!

She also butchered English, as badly as I probably butchered the Greek language. I was instructed to shop for some feta with the instruction, "I don't want that stuff they make over here. I want that 'important' feta from Greece." She also knew that if you broke your arm or leg, you should go to the doctor and he would put it in a 'casket' for you. Despite her lack of understanding of American culture of the time, she always seemed to know the right thing to do and was constantly being challenged by her children to explain her beliefs and permissions (or refusal of them). When she could offer no logical reason why we should not do something, she invoked the "Don't ask! Why, I wouldn't even dare to tell your father you have asked this." The subject was closed and we usually did what we wanted without mentioning a word to her. Luckily, we usually escaped detection though she was ever vigilant. Her disposition was usually sunny, she was kind, generous and caring, and remarkably brilliant at solving and doing things. It is 21 years since she passed away and I miss her every day.