"I write so that my handful of pebbles, cast into still waters, will create a ripple."

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Singing Our Whine-Song

Not talking about a drinking song here. Every generation has something that drives them crazy about their mother. I call it the whine-song.   

My blessed mama probably won’t read this. And if she does, she’ll laugh. Because she knows there was one thing about her that drove me crazy. Her favorite theme was the twenty-seven years she went without a new coat. It was true. I was there and I saw her, always making sure her brood was fed and clothed—even if it meant doing without. 

Most of the time she was happy to serve. But every now and then something would remind her and out would come the pathetic coat story.  

Funny how things work out. Her lack of coat became a theme for my abundance. In college the family I cooked for gave me a beautiful red poncho that I wore through three years of college and another three pregnancies. On my first married Christmas, my brand new in-laws handed me a gorgeous Bullock’s box. In it was a fawn-colored faux-suede pants coat that made my heart sing.

In the intervening years a friend gave me her mother-in-law’s elegant emerald green overcoat (a serious East Coast wool garment.)  One Christmas I sewed five down jackets for Christmas presents. I live in Central California and it isn't even cold here! 

What is it about my mother’s lack that the Universe overcompensated with me? Was it some erratic force laughing at us? My mother-in-law left coats hanging in every closet. She hoarded them, child of the Depression that she was, and after her death I filled my car with them and distributed them to a homeless shelter.

So what’s my whine-song? Naturally it has to be different from my mother’s. And my daughters will have to find different yet. I think mine is the poor-me-I-don’t-eat-enough-to-be-this-damn-fat song. Yeah, that’s the one my daughters will remember. With a chorus of, “why me, why me.”    

They won’t remember the coats. Why should they—their closets are full of them. It’ll be something else, maybe plastic grocery bags or—here’s a good one—the unequal distribution of household chores.   

And, so the beat goes on.

What’s your whine song? Have a theme you’d care to share with us?  Come on--you know you want to!

9 comments:

  1. Oh, poo. I thought it was about wine! ha!
    My mother has never been able to sit still. Ever. She can't even make it through an entire movie. And if you're talking to her, you'd better yell it, because she's already out of the room, down the stairs, or outside. "I'm listening to you!" she yells from across the house when I give up and stop talking. THAT must be why I talk 100 miles an hour. That is most definately my "wine" song. Wine....that sounds good right about now. Might help me sleep! Ha!
    You did great on my site, by the way. I was so proud to put your words up!!
    Jennifer

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  2. A whine-song is better than crying in your beer. Your blog is very worthwhile. Glad I discovered it. And thanks for having me.

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  3. I was with your Mom, "When the kids get through school, I'm going to buy myself a real dress coat!" Except when they were really on their own, and I could afford a coat, I didn't really want one anymore. A down jacket then, and fleece now, serve me fine!

    "Live Simply that others may Simply Live" is my theme song.

    Susie

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  4. When I was little and going to Sunday school I got teased because I didn't have socks with lace at the top. I was lucky to have shoes.
    Well now I have socks with lace and ribbons. I have hand knitted socks made by me. I have store bought socks with cats on them.
    I'll stop before I get into my boot fetish.

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  5. For many years before I retired from the wage-slave workforce, I whined about the fact -- as I saw it -- that I didn't have time for my writing. Now that I am retired, and own a lot more time to write, I realize that what I lacked for all those years was not time, but energy to devote to creative pursuits. I can no longer justify my continual time whine, nor claim any other legitimate whine with regard to writing. Now I have to face my fears and admit the truth. Put up, or shut yourself down. Still working on it, boss.

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  6. Loving these whines. I'm with you on the down, Susie. Debra, warm feet is the best revenge. Anthony, I've read your writing. You're an award waiting to happen.

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  7. Anne, you are such a character. My whine song is that when I was working, I would say, "One of these days, when I retire I'm gong to sleep late and enjoy it. Now that I'm retired, my first thought when I open my eyes is to think about what is scheduled for the day and I'm up early. What happened to sleeping late?

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  8. Oh, I know that song. When I retire I'm going to submit to 1005 agents (and they're going to fight over the right to rep me at the rights auction.) I'll invent peace and become a gourmet chef and a foster parent and write another 18 novels.

    It's not my fault that my husband wants to use the computer and my dog needs a walk.What would life be without our whine song?

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  9. My "whine song" is a lot like my singing of any kind--I don't do it out loud unless circumstances compel me to. :) But oh my, do I have a running dialogue in my brain sometimes! (Along with music, but that's another story.)

    My silent whine song runs to the tune of: "When I get a place of my own I'll.."

    It remains to be seen how productive I'll be when I actually get there. ;)

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