Writing is like being able to put life into a snow globe. It takes the things that are too big and scary and reduces them into a form that I can put away when I want and look at from a distance. It also takes all that’s good in life and captures it into something I can take out when I want and look at close up and keep forever. It makes the bad things into something I can hold…and the good things into something I can hold onto. Both help so much that I need that little souvenir of life.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Improper Poll: Under the Umbrella


A couple of days ago, LindaO’Connell at Write from the Heart wrote about bumbershoots, or umbrellas. This made me smile, and not just because of the fun word. Whenever I think of umbrellas, I think of my mother and the way she was always trying to foist one off onto me.

When I was younger, I loathed umbrellas. They were clunky, dorky things that only nerds carried. They were second only to the rubbers we used to have to wear to protect our shoes from getting wet. Whenever a boy would pick me up for a date and it was raining out, I would rush out the door as fast as possible thanks to absolute terror that my rather naïve mother might caution me to be sure and take rubbers. She never did, thank heavens, but she sometimes called after me to take an umbrella.

Even when I was an adult, my mother persisted in giving me umbrellas, often disguised as gifts. I thanked her and stashed them away—usually under my car seat. It was only after she died that I noticed the way they sometimes came rolling out from under my seat when it was raining, and this time, instead of feeling annoyed at those incessant umbrellas, I smiled.

When my daughter went to France, and later off to college, I presented her with an umbrella. I could tell by the look on her face that it would never get used, but as her mother, I felt an obligation to pass along the tradition, not unlike passing a torch.

A few years ago, I started actually using the umbrellas. I am not cool, and I no longer care. In fact, the rejection of coolness is at the heart of the matter on a literal level as well. It’s not that I care so much about looking like a drowned rat when I go someplace, but I hate being damp and cold.

Funny it’s only now that I really get the message: I will shield you. I’ve got you covered. These days, umbrellas make me smile.

How did your mother manage to humiliate you?

17 comments:

  1. Tammy--

    First, I think this would make a wonderful story for Sasee. There's a powerful emotional layer under your umbrella story...as usual.

    My mother tried her best to make me into a "girlie girl." Dresses with dropped waists and ribbon sashes. Shiny shoes and curled hair. I hated it...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks so much for the suggestion, Sioux! I think that girlie thing was in the manual in those days. You just reminded me about those pink sponge rollers. Ack!

    ReplyDelete
  3. My mom was always game for a public spit-bath. Thumb, saliva...the Germ-X of my generation.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Eww! I forgot about the Mom-spit. My mother used it like "Dippity Doo" to plaster down the bangs she'd cut so short, they stuck out from my head in choppy spikes.

      Delete
  4. My mom cut my bangs! This story has hidden depth and would make a great CS or Sasee story.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. How could I have forgotten the bangs?! Probably a coping mechanism. I still vaguely remember my dad exclaiming, "Ye gads, the child's been scalped!" Thanks for the reminder. I think.

      Delete
  5. The WWWPs are SO right - a GREAT story idea! The first thing my mom gave me for my recent trip to Paris was... an umbrella.
    My grandmother (her mom) used to wear the little clear, plastic "bonnets" (remember those?) when it was raining. Thankfully, my mom has yet to perch one of those on her head!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I do remember those! Like baggies for the head! And they even came in cute little plastic tubes to fit in your purse. Thank heavens I don't think anyone makes them anymore!

      Delete
  6. I don't think anyone truly appreciates an umbrella until they reach adulthood and develop moisure-inspired frizzy hair issues.

    Pat
    Critter Alley

    ReplyDelete
  7. I don't think anyone truly appreciates an umbrella until they reach adulthood and develop moisure-inspired frizzy hair issues.

    Pat
    Critter Alley

    ReplyDelete
  8. So glad I'm not the only one who "didn't have enough sense to come out of the rain" as a kid. I refused the use of umbrellas, too, citing the "cool factor." These days I keep an umbrella in my car -- getting wet midday is not my idea of a good time these days. How do I embarrass my kids? Every way I can. LOL

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. LOL!!! Good for you. A little parental-embarrassment is a character builder.

      Delete
  9. What a charming essay. My mom cut my bangs the day before picture day, and it looked like she used pinking shears.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Donna. Your mom and mine must've attended the same beauty school!

      Delete
  10. I always hated when my mom told me to bring an umbrella to school. Ugh. I think we were too poor to have rubbers, which was a good thing! VO5 was my mother's choice of hair calming.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, who could forget VO5?! Although it may have been better than Dippety-Doo, which I think was the precursor to super glue. Your hair felt to plasti-coated, I was sort of afraid it would break if it got bent.

      Delete

Any return "messages" are appreciated!