If you’re reading this post, you, like me have been thinking about Pee, aka Pee Wee, aka Elaine, aka Popo, aka Mom.
It’s a shame that a milestone like death is the magnet that attracts memory. While I’m at peace with the fact that we gave mom a good death, it’s really memories of her life that simultaneously make me laugh and ache. The good thing about these twin feelings is that I then recall all the times with mom that I laughed until I ached.
She was too low-key to be a comedian, but dang, the woman was funny.
I’ve many an email from her just updating me on everyday stuff, or taunting us with the results of our Pigskin Picks and exhorting us to do better so she could collect a free trip to Las Vegas and, no matter how mundane, there was always a memorable line or two that made me laugh.
Her clear-eyed and astringent observations about family members, athletes, political figures and locals-in-the-news were original and offered me insight from a mind-set that was completely alien to me. As well as I knew her, she remained a delightful and sometimes frustratingly stubborn puzzle. I have all the pieces, but the picture remains opaque.
To me, she was (sometimes) painfully direct in her communications. Yet, I know that she wasn’t so honest with others. I’ve come to realize that there was a pattern to her uncharacteristically circuitous language; she would stop short of breaking someone. She would lie by omission if she thought what she had to say about a person’s character would break their spirit.
In retrospect, this fundamental difference between us was the arena in which all of our disagreements played out. Yes, I often thought that she wasn’t direct enough in relationships that she was deeply invested in. Writing those words makes me laugh, because she did not spare me. She wielded a sharp observational and opinionated knife and I felt many a cut-to-the-bone comment. For the curious, these remarks were not coded comments about my lifestyle. Mom was not superficial and she did not believe that other peoples’ behavior was any reflection on her. She did think about old-timey things such as family obligations, but she did not bow to convention.
No, mom’s judgment was reserved for what she perceived as wrong-headed actions that might be indicative of a character flaw that should be worked on or corrected. If you have not had the privilege of being flayed open by her, you have not been forced to look deeply at your ethics and how you move and act in the world and in your close relationships. Opening yourself to her unedited opinion was not for the faint-hearted. If she offered any advice, you would be wise to give it long and serious consideration. She was often right.
Her moral compass was honesty and justice for all. And she really meant *all*. Many of our most intense discussions were about the ethical failures and criminality of elected officials and business leaders. She reserved her harshest judgment for people in power and religious hypocrites.
She did not suffer fools and she was sensitive to and very concerned by the dumbing-down of debate in American and Hawaiian society. We often discussed the implications of the rise of religious fundamentalism and what that meant and reflected about our modern American/Hawaiian culture.
Other than our mutual taste for weird food combinations, mom and I shared curiosity and a sincere interest in learning about what made people tick - the basis for some of the most interesting and thought-provoking conversations that I’ve ever shared with another human being.
I both miss and am grateful for her; courage, wryness, wisdom, clarity of perception, love of reading, competitiveness, sports fanaticism, Las Vegas adventuring, very rare occasions wearing a Mom Hat, interest in people and places, stubbornness, goofy get rich quick schemes, complete lack of sentimentality, strength, cheap stocking stuffers, critical thinking, perfect fried chicken, no-nonsense compassion and advocacy for the disenfranchised, spirituality, connection to nature, cat crazies and all the myriad of qualities, conditions, triumphs and failures that leave such a deep hole in the lives of those of us who were fortunate enough to come under the attention of her gimlet eye and generous spirit.
As a good friend of mine put it, “You’ve suffered a deep wound, but it’s a clean one. You will heal.”
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