My mother ran a tight ship at home. She was always in charge. But she had to. My father was busy starting his professional career. So my mother had to manage all of us by herself. My parents had six of us in 7 years. And then 11 years later, when they were 43, they had our crowned prince, Brian Edward. We were a lot of work.
My father worked diligently to manage his financial obligations. As a young father, he worked full time in the day and then hurried off each evening to law school at Temple University. Then he graduated and quit work to study for the bar exam. He couldn’t afford to fail this exam. Then he got his first job as a lawyer, he started teaching business law classes at night at Drexel University and Temple University. This job assured all of us free tuition to college in 15 to 20 years from now. Most of us hadn’t even started first grade and already he was planning options for us for college.
So my mother took care of everything in the house. And some of the tasks were more difficult than others. Like grocery shopping. We didn’t have a car until I was five and even then, my mother didn’t drive. So we walked to the grocery store every week. My mother would lead her parade of children. Kathy held Patricia’s hand. Jimmy held Chris’ hand and I pulled Sharon along. My mother dragged a food cart behind her as we trudged home.
When we moved from North Philly to West Philly, we got a station wagon and my mother got her driver’s license. And our family excursions expanded. As a treat each June to start our summer vacation, my mother took us to the King of Prussia mall. There was a little food kiosk with outside dining. My mother told us that we were going to “a little French café” in the mall. “It is just like being in Paris” she would tell us. “We eat outside and watch all the people go by.” And we always liked to go there because it made us feel so worldly. Sometimes my grandparent would join us and they would recant their stories of their days in Paris and the Azores.
The kiosk was circular. Half a dozen tables surrounded it. And it sat along a promenade. People promenaded back and forth with lots of packages. Women walked with enthusiasm. Their husbands staggered behind them, bored and worried about money being spent. Children pulled on their mother’s blouses and skirts. They wanted to go home. Store clerks ran quickly during their lunch breaks, hoping to snag a great sales item from another store. Security guards patrolled the area, pounding their night sticks in boredom. And my mother pointed out every quirky family interaction and we watched with great interest.
And then we would have lunch. My mother always ordered for all of us. And we always got the same thing. “I’ll have six cokes and six hot dogs,” she would say. This order never deviated. But one time, one of us spoke up, “I don’t want a hot dog. I want a hamburger.”
This announcement startled my mother so she turned to my sibling and asked for a clarification, “You don’t want a hot dog?”
“No, I want a hamburger.”
“Okay”, she says calmly and the rest of us were in disbelief. We couldn’t believe it was that easy to speak up. Why hadn’t we thought to do this?
So my mother turned to the waitress and said, “Excuse me but that will be six cokes and five hotdogs.”
End of discussion.
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