She comes from a family of 3 sisters her being the
oldest. Her childhood was sad to
say the least, her mom, my grandmother Mary, having a nervous breakdown and
being hospitalized for a time, having her children scattered until she recovered.
Mom was separated from her youngest sister Marietta, and lived in a home for
children run by nuns. My grandfather abandoned Mary with three little girls having
to fend for in the world by herself with three little girls. Mom always looked
to find where he went, and when he died, but was never successful. I say ‘good
for Mom’: she was lucky to never find him.
There were other stories to tell, but this is not a sad
story but one of deep respect for her life, what she did accomplish and in
spite of her childhood, somehow managed to keep us all together, my four
sisters and me. With Dad’s help she managed to raise four lovely ladies,
managed to teach us right from wrong, managed to make our lives whole.
Olympia Tria was born on May 10th, 1918, with the
assistance of a midwife, in Brooklyn, NY of an immigrant father from Italy and
an American of Italian descent mother. In her 95 years she has survived her 2
younger sisters and a son she tried to raise, always praying for him to turn
out decent. Every spring was about Mom, every birthday arriving on time on the
same date, and Mother’s Day, sometimes the same day. This meant to me I had a
special mother.
As a little boy, between getting knocked off by a wooden
spoon, (she had a quick down stroke, follow through and contact with that
wooden spoon), I always and I mean ALWAYS found the time to get her a present,
I would save my money and proudly present her with a home made card I drew, my
undying love and devotion to the “Best mother in the world” inscribed to prove
my devotion.
Mom had her idiosyncrasies, such as making sure I behaved,
that I did my homework and didn’t torture my sisters on weekends or after
school, and NOT steal a cookie or ten. She did have a delusional moment or two!
Today I will visit her, bring a little ice cream cake and
gift and sing happy birthday. She would rather I sing about some of the things
I’ve done that she didn’t catch with her back eye, the one over her nape.
When they discovered I was hard of hearing back in the 4th
grade, it was Mom who rallied behind me and gave me the strength to fight back
and accommodate my hearing loss without making excuses for myself. Having
suffered because of a hearing loss, I learned that it is not the end, but the
beginning of understanding how to get around it. I fought back in school and it
meant I could survive in the real world. Thank you Mom.
 |
| She still has that wooden spoon! |
She wasn’t afraid to apply corporal punishment, made no play
dates for me but expected me to get my butt outside and play on my own. I had
to go to church on Sunday, confession on Saturday (and it better be a long time
coming home to insure I confessed all): she was tough.
She simultaneously ran the house, took care of my father and
four sisters, while she also took the time to shine my shoes, clean my clothes
and worry about me, feeding me, and warning me, all in a days work.
She may be 95, but she is no pushover, her mind is sharp and
her thinking still keen, she has the mind of a very intelligent 43 year old.
Thanks Mom, you are the best, and
1 comment:
She must be a remarkable woman to have raised such wonderful children. Happy Birthday Olympia, you are a fighter, a nurturer, and a shining symbol of Italian-American womanhood.
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