Chatting With Mia Madre 2009/ My Poem Written About My Mother Friday Morning, March 9th, 2012 Before Work

These two pictures were taken when my mother lived in " The Crooked House " that is actually quite famous. They combined two houses into one and thus called this new uniting of two homes : " the crooked house " and I must say to visit sure was fun. We enjoyed our forays up to this home with some funny architecture and a great outdoors where we spent many a relaxed afternoon out back on the stone terrace or just above on the grassy areas at her table enjoying each others company and listening and telling and sharing stories of just about everything under the sun, Everything pretty much was fair game. I liked it and looking out at her garden, too. Cheers and stay-tuned for the poem I just wrote that I have started to print below. Thanks for everything Mom : thanks for my life : I have lived it hard and well and thoroughly enjoyed the many situations and predicaments that I have gotten into all on my own and sometimes with the help of others. Cheers, I love you Mom,, TONY

Here is the poem that I wrote inspired by my mother on Friday, March 9th, 2012 . Hope you enjoy it. Cheers, TONY

Tomo Tomor Omor Row

Row Bestow Mom My

Birth To Earth From Belly

To Breathe Air Long Time

Twenty-Nine Nineteen Yeah

1929 So Very Long Long Long

Aghh Ago Times Change A

Diff A Now Her Disconnect

For Her Life Fast Fiery Salvo

Much Saw Proctors Si Oui

Of Vermont A Peops She Peeped

Through Mom Hers Round

Her She Saw Many Proctors

Still Remembers Today This

The Ways They Acted She Just

Told Me This Monday The

5th Of Dad's On His 2012

His Birthday We Chat Did

So Now We Talk Of Hers I

Get Ready To Drive On Up

Today Hers Tomorrow We

Will Monday Just Past Celebrate

A Time Of Joy For Me For Us

A Time To Joy Smiles Every

A Place To Glow To Rise Up

To Go Over So Many Moments

Ours Together The Two Us Of

Our Family Too We Do

Did Still Have Much Fun

Joy Good Times Together

Ours

Mother Tells About Father In Paris, France Aubergine, Not Choufleur @ Office, 1070's

This was a great story as it showed my father in Paris in the American Embassy, the Talleyrand building to be exact I believe relaying a puzzling office story to her. She laughed about it when she told me this past Monday, Memorial Day, Monday, May 30th, 2011.

I called to check in on her as I like to do and this time I both remembered to do it and she was there and picked up her phone as well. Both good and neccesary occurances to get the conversation going between the two of us. She did most of the speaking this time. I don't mind. I like listening to and collecting these stories of hers. They are part of my past and part of bringing it back to life for me and giving it more meaning for me now as memories fade and we, as I like to say : " get younger with age ". At least I do. I insist on stopping, of course when I get all the way back to twenty-one years of age. That's young enough for me.

Anyway, my father got back one early evening or late afternoon from wotk at the Talleyrand building in Paris, France back in the 1970's and was upset about a conversation that he thought was funny with some of his staff. They laughed but not in the right manner and this puzzled him. He thought that he was quite clever with his use of the French word " choufleur - caulliflower " when telling a story. It was a story about how he had witnessed first-hand or seen some of the local ticket meter-maids giving tickets and he referred to them as " choufleur ". When he said this they all roared with laughted.

My mom said that they probably needed this laughter and release/relief from office work and stress and that it was probably a good thing. However, it puzzled and perhaps even embarassed my father and so it was good that my wife was able to later straighten and clarify the laughing later in the day.

She said that the French call the local traffic meter-maids by the word " aubergine - eggplant " and not " choufleur - cauliflower ". They do this becasue their deep purple outfits look just like ripe and shiny eggplants. They do, I've seen them myself many times and the resemblance is uncanny. That's why they were laughing Dad, you got the wrong vegetable in your story, and they certainly do not look the same or have the same colors or shapes : that's why the story was funny. Too bad, Dad that Marie France did not clarify this for you as she was your secreatary. If I ever see her again I will have to ask her if she remembers this?

Thanks for sharing this story with me, Mom. It just now makes me wonder about Marie-France and her son Sebastien and her divorced husband Alain? They were such dear friends to my wife and to me while we lived in Paris after she stopped working for my dad. We did lots of things together even after dad left to go to his next post in Panama, Central America.

I love all these stories Mom and will include as many as I can here as not to forget them as they are little gems all in their own. I loved that period in Paris, France back in the 1970's : it molded my whole adult life and for that I am eternally grateful. Cheers et a bientot et a plus tard. TONY

P.S. The picture above was taken in our home outside on our deck out back perhaps in 2009 or 2010? I'm glad I have these pictures. They, too make things come alive for me. Cheers, sante ...