#727 Musings Beyond the Bunker (Monday August 14)
Good morning,
Today is the birthday of my mother and my sister. They would be 95 and 65, respectively. I think about them often. And I wonder how they would react to today’s political situation. Suffice it to say that neither of them would be amused. They both were practical, thoughtful, and did not suffer fools well. Despite being strongly patriotic (and Republicans), they would not be fans of the nationalism and anti-immigration wave that has generated a populist, often racist, movement that has nearly completely taken over the Republican party.
As I wander about the house near their birthdays, I find my eye gravitating to items that remind me of them. Of my sister, I have my morning coffee many days from a mug she gave me for my birthday some 30 years ago—the last gift I recall receiving from her. The mug is of the classic mid-century cartoon character Underdog and his love, “Polly Purebred.” We would always laugh together about how great were the cartoons of our youth. They were humorous, witty, subversive, sometimes instructive, and often containing humor intended for adult audiences.
And as I drink the coffee, I often will walk over to an old wooden chair that found its way here from the home of my mother’s youth in Croton-on-Hudson, New York. It is one of the few pieces of furniture I have from my parents. The few other items are from my grandfather’s many trips back to India, the country of his childhood.
There is a great photo of this wooden chair, which we call “the throne.” That photo adorns our wall of family photos upstairs. My mother is seated in the chair and her sisters are flanking her on either side. The three of them were pretty remarkable women (my aunts are still around), having been raised by uneducated immigrant parents who were less than a perfect match, working in a gas station through their teens in what was then a rural community devoid of much culture. They all became educated (with graduate degrees, no less) and went on to teach. That picture is some 75 years old and the chair itself is probably 100 years old. It’s not fancy, but it clearly was a significant possession of a relatively poor family, and the source of considerable pride.
The chair is made of pretty strong wood, evocative of the strength of the three strong young women in the photo. The next generations of women in our family were and are no less strong. The chair continues to be a source of pride—and memory—generations since it was acquired.
Have a great day,
Glenn