YOU DON’T SAY!

As a young fellow growing up within earshot of my parents, more often than not one of them would say something without the other being in the room! This was an occurrence everyday and at first was a little disconcerting. Then I noticed other grownups doing it, and I started to feel better about my parent’s mental health.

Of course I did mention to them that they did talk to themselves, and would get such answers like Moms, “Sure, raising you who wouldn’t?” or Dad: “Eh, with 5 kids running around wouldn’t you as a parent?” This may have explained it all, but being a large part of the reason is a little unsettling.

As I got older I would laugh at it and usually make some comment, something to remind them that they should only do that in private.

The other day I got up from my chair in the den and passed the TV where they were showing a re-run of a terrible play by the Jets the day before. I don’t think it important to mention which play it was since they all are terrible plays. I immediately went into a discourse of semi-obscenities and disparaging remarks, basically calling them bums, to myself, all alone, just like mom and dad did so often.

I was wondering how often during the day I do this talking to myself? My fear is I’ll do it in public, get loud and get into a shouting match with myself and be escorted out of where ever I am having this discourse.

But why do I do it, because I want to verbalize my feeling at the moment and therefore just thinking would not suffice.

Don't let her fool you-she hurt!

Now all this is well and good as they say, but normal people just say things, we Italians also give visual signals to accompany the words, an orchestrated hand sign that could be in lieu of words. Mom was best at this, sometimes grouping all her fingers together pointed upwards, a frown on her face and a puzzled look in her eyes that said in essence: What the hell???

When mom went into this ‘condition’, one was prone to ask: What’s wrong? Her answer was usually: “Ah!” This two-letter word covered all the issues visiting her mind at the time all at once. This could mean my father’s remarks, the state of politics and the cost of bread, all at once. Mom never held grudges: she just kept her issues together to react to all at once. This was efficient and saved her a lot of time.

Mom’s communication skills were extraordinary to say the least. My bedroom was not too far from the kitchen and the walls that held up her cabinets. If I ever did something that offended her, such as leave a dirty plate out or a sock in the living room, the next morning while I was tucked away in my bed, dreaming of supper or lunch, quietly she would open every cabinet door and then go about slamming them shut until I jumped out of bed and took care of the matter! She got exercise and I got up early, all part of her many energy efficient tactics in raising her family and keeping even dad in line.

Her best and most efficient way to communicate however did not involve words, but a simple act of reaching for a wooden spoon, which did wonders. She could smack me upside my head AND start dinner! I marvel at her efficient way to run her household.