My Mothers Sugar Bowl 4x4 OilYou know how as a kid your parents job is to annoy and embarrass you? It is not until you grow up and hopefully mature that you realize that such moments are only humorous bumps in this eventful journey we call life.
My mother was one such individual. She was a gifted seamstress who loved to create her own clothing. There was nothing in her closets that was not altered in some fashion to express that creative force within her. I remember fondly ( much less so at the time) my Mother arriving at my elementary school to pick me up for some childhood appointment. My mother had little use for authority figures and since Principals ranked even lower than that she promptly sailed past the office in search of her offspring. While I, the obedient child, sat in class listening to the teacher drone on about some useless tidbit of information only future rocket scientists would adore and waited for that interruption from the Principals office ordering me to come down to the center of the schools universe and meet my mother.
By now my mother was breezing through the school stopping by each and every class room , her gray velvet fur lined cape billowing in the wake of her quick movements as she surveyed each child to find her own.
Not even deigning to acknowledge the presence of the teacher she quickly swirled from each room leaving only stray bits of Mink hair floating about.
Then came the calling out of my name. Not the
Crystal that all my friends used but my full name. First , Middle and last which of course as any child knows ( regardless of age) that when that full name is used the speaker is now approaching some sort of extreme irritation.
Being in 5th grade and a rather meek and mild child, (I mean who can
compete when your mom
designs her own clothes??) I rapidly calculated the pros and cons of hiding under my desk and hoping for the compassion of my fellow classmates to play along with my
I don't exist here fantasy. A brief pause in the theory of physics and it s ability to render space travel was the first clue that MOM was near, that and the murmurings of
Elizabeth? from fellow students who giggled at my old fashioned middle name. Realizing salvation would not come from the human life forms inhabiting the room I resigned myself to gathering up my school books and was beginning to rise from my
Oh so comfortable school desk when my mother roared in, her floor length cape whisking the garbage can across the room to rattle at a stop by my teachers feet while my mom ignored his very presence. It was a bit of a wake up call for one so used to being "worshiped" as an educator of young minds. (Insert heavy sarcasm here)
I was subjected to a rather quick verbal reminder of my short comings and reminded to hurry as mother, never stopping her movement swirled around, sashayed out the door leaving a pile of papers fluttering from desks to the ground. I Apologized profusely to everyone, muttered some sort of apology to the teacher although it was more for my mothers interruption and not so much for disturbing his brain numbing teaching style. Clutching my books to my chest while starring at the floor I tried not to walk on my class mates drawing of cars etc...it seems I was not unique in my boredom in that room, and raced after mom!
Mom was easy to find, her cape neatly cleaned the school hallways of all sorts of debris.
Mom has been gone three years now and I remember once embarrassing moments with fondness. I also cherish many of the mementos that she has gifted upon me and the reasons for them. My mom wanted me to be an interior designer, not the animal technician I spent that last two decades of my life mired in. She bought me a silver serving set in hopes that I would serve tea in a lady like manner. Something I told her was unlikely as I usually drank from a hose when thirsty, wore jeans and T shirts that normally required toxic chemicals to keep clean from the various amounts of animal feces and ...well you get the picture.
Where she would design her outfits I would grab off the rack at Zellers without a second thought. As young people we really do deserve a smack or two upside the head! Anything my mother wanted I did the exact opposite.
It took years but as the cycle of life dictates , I too was gifted with my own children and now I find myself much more mellow. A fact that those who have not known me a long time would no doubt refute but life long friends will admit there is a softness there that wasn't there in my younger years.
It is that softness that had me polishing moms (I will never call it it mine!) silver sugar bowl and after a several years of storage and neglect it did clean up remarkably well. It is this little bowl that I used not as a serving utensil but as the subject of my daily painting.
I hope you like it.
May you remember your past with fondness as well.
Chloe in Fog 5x3 oil
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