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Stiff Upper Lip

Mom taught me how to keep a stiff upper lip.

I think that’s an English expression, “stiff upper lip,” but Mom is actually Scottish. The Scots are a bunch of tough bastards. They’re one of the only groups the Romans couldn’t conquer. So its no wonder Mom has a hard shell. You wouldn’t guess it by looking at her. She’s petite, peppy and just a little scrappy. She also has a trace of an accent, so she says stuff like ‘wee’ and ‘aboot’ which makes strangers think she’s terribly charming.

Mom delivered six children before me—so I learned by word of mouth that one must never cry, scream or whine. But stoicism goes only so far when your brother is spindling goobers into your mouth while he’s got you pinned under couch pillows. So although I knew the drill, I got to experience Mom’s policy on tears first hand, on more than one occasion. Mom had no time for splitting hairs over who tortured whom. If she heard a disturbance, she waited until the screams indicated a life threatening situation and then she tore into the living room from the kitchen, wooden spoon still in hand, and meted out punishment equally to all.

Mom’s theory was that if something is not going to kill you there’s no use shedding tears over it. She reminded us constantly that we had our home and our family, food and clean—albeit used—clothes. What more could we want? Mom set a good example by never shedding tears herself, at least not in our presence.

I think one way she stayed so strong was by marrying a man who would never hurt her, and always nurture her.  And in case he had any other ideas, Mom made sure of this by keeping Dad on a short leash.  My Father is Italian, so you could call him a Roman, and nothing has changed much between the Scots and the Romans.  I guess you could say I learned how to handle a man from Mom, but that's a different story altogether.

09.24.01

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