Mother! WTF

Last night we had a doozy thunderstorm. Lightning, well yeah. Michele commented, "God is bowling". I had never heard that one before, and was totally charmed by the image. 

I'm remembering now too a time from my formative youth, during a thunderstorm. I was afraid and troubled. My Polish Mother unhesitatingly and flatly said, "Boża is angry with you". No indication she was joshing me. For real, she seemed.

God is angry with me. Well. At 7 or 8 impressionable years of age, that's saying something. Being a good Catholic lad, naturally, I was full of guilt, so I took it as true. 

So many conflicting thoughts. Was is true? If so, what could I do. Oh, there's the Sacrament of Confession. But, that was a big display of anger ... what did I do to deserve that?

Then, of course, there was the usual disconnect between what I know to be so and what the adults in the room demanded me to believe what's so. Framing the world for me.

Mom! Why would you say something like that? It's interesting to note that my Mother ran away from home — for good — at a very young age to escape the physical and mental cruelty of a stepmother. Took her younger sister in tow, and scrammed. Grew up with her natural mother's sister, Dear Ciotka [say it, "Chocha".], in another city far away. Brave, huh?

But, I do love my Mother. And it's my duty as a good son to reconcile myself with her. First, accepting that she wasn't always right. Or, that she raised me to be a good boy, and relating to me as if she had command over me, even as an adult. Mother! My life as a dog. Raised like a Veal. Yet ... to be fair, I remember how as I grew the evening curfew time gradually became later. She was giving me my independence. It took me, myself, some time to take it. You know, those apron strings.

In the final analysis, I think she didn't understand how sensitive and impressionable I was. Or, maybe she did, and was giving me a koan to chew on to toughen me up. In short, she was pulling my leg.

I think that's about right. Her other instruction was about how to catch a bird. You put salt on its tail. I even got the absurdity of that as a mere lad. I do think, though, she played with my naivete just a bit. Teaching me really to think for myself. 

Net, net ... Mother is always right. It's the child who might not at first see that through his limited experience.