Mother's Day. In which tenho saudades da minha mãe.

I think of my mother often and have indeed mentioned her a few times when reflecting on fleamarketed finds that I'm sure would have delighted her as much as they did me when first discovered.  The funny thing is, though, my mother would have hated fleamarketing with me.  She loved to shop, but she didn't like secondhand goods no matter how gently-worn, formerly-loved, or otherwise-hyphenated they may have been.  Few euphemisms for "used" would have appealed to her sensibilities regardless of how delicately I tried to translate them into Portuguese for her.


Despite what I would describe as her only short- coming, I have always been proud of my mom for her courage, determination, and independent spirit.  Independent and strong despite the fact that she grew up the eldest daughter of farmers during the Depression and sacrificed her childhood to raise her younger brother and sisters.  Mom never finished school (only the “basic” four years) because she was a leader, breadwinner, and caregiver in her household.  

Mom was a great cook all her life (as evidenced in most of my “awkward” childhood photos) and was perhaps the first foodie of her generation, always sourcing the best products to feed her family even if it meant growing them herself.  Mom was a miracle worker with greens and I learned everything I know about herbs from going out to her herb garden every night to pick the freshest for dinner.  

Like my dad, my mãe always worked two jobs to provide for our family.  She became an expert seamstress while working as a member of the International Ladies' Garment Workers' Union in small garment factories that might be considered sweatshops by today’s standards.  Mãe would wake us up for school as she headed out the door every morning to the bus stop.  As we made it home from school, she would just be arriving home to begin her second job and would always have a warm, comforting dinner on the table (even when it was liver that I subsequently drowned in ketchup).  My mom was the ultimate homemaker:  cooking, cleaning, laundry, and ironing (she even ironed the sheets).  Yes.  (At least I know the source of my own obsessions.)  Mãe never pressured us to help with household chores because our jobs were School and Homework.  That’s why she and Dad made the sacrifices they made--why they left their families and homeland to start a new life.  For family.

My grandparents did the same.  They left Brazil with my mom when she was just 6 months old to start a new life in Portugal.  It was her family’s Brazilian citizenship that allowed Mom to emigrate to the US from Portugal on a work visa in 1961.  Mom worked for a year to pay off the debts of her journey and to buy a wardrobe that would allow her to return to her Portuguese village and “find a man.”  Mom’s return to Portugal in August of 1962 resulted in her marriage three weeks later to my dad, a man from her own small seaside farming village who bore the same first and last name as her own father and who was 10 years her junior.  In addition to being an early “foodie,” Mom was apparently one of the first “cougars,” too.

I’m finally having the opportunity to smile as I write this as I think of what my mom was able to accomplish during her life (including US citizenship) and how proud I am to be her son.  She was funny and loving and so talented in so many ways.  She could out-Martha Martha Stewart when it comes to cooking, cleaning, organizing, sewing, and crochet.  One of my tangible tributes to Mãe was spreading the pictured tablecloth she hand-crocheted (she claims it took her a year) on the dining room table in our recently remodeled home. (I confess, the tablecloth was one of the reasons behind the dining room addition.)

There are over 300 of these four-inch round starbursts in the (somehow she knew) perfectly-fitted-to-our-dining-table tablecloth.

At the intersection of every four starbursts, Mom stitched a smaller eight-point starburst (in the center of the photo at left), like so many ethereal supernovae connecting her heavenly handiwork.

I look at it and I am amazed.

I am in awe of my mother's creativity and talent and determination.

And her passion.

I have the great pleasure of admiring this work of art every day as well as the great honor of stitching together treasured moments and memories not always as tangible as a tablecloth, but vividly beautiful to me nonetheless.

I love this photo of my parents, especially since I had never seen it while Dad was alive. We found it while searching for photos to display at his service a few years before Mom passed away in 2013. Seeing them both so happy and so young helped me overcome the bitterness I felt over losing him prematurely and unexpectedly and looking at the photograph now brings me peace because I know they are at rest and not suffering the physical trials and burdens of this world.

Mãe e Pai (Mom and Dad) always managed to find time and the means to make the most out of their one or two week annual vacations and I am ever grateful for the journeys, memories, and (especially) their adventurous spirit.  The photo of my mom at Disney World (Christmas 1979) always makes me laugh because I remember Mickey waving her on in after a group of kids and she wasn’t shy about it.  I think Mickey recognized in her a need to continue enjoying her own childhood which she sacrificed for her family.  Mickey couldn’t have posed with a happier and more deserving subject that day.

Thank you, friends, for indulging me this humble tribute.