Mi Mamá

Milestones. That's what birthdays that end in zeros are called. My mom celebrated life yesterday with one of those milestones. The big 6-0. Why do we start calling them "The Big ___-Zero" when we hit 30? When I turned 10, I didn't hear "Wow, you hit The Big One-Zero!" Maybe we should start doing that to make kids aware of the gravity of it all. Counting age in whole decades - it's a huge responsibility. So Fina (my mom) has been alive and kicking for six whole decades. I love my mom - she's a character all her own. Few understand the intricacies that make Fina "Fina". Having so many of her personality traits and having been around her for so long, I feel like I have a grasp of what makes her tick. And then she surprises me. Fina came from very humble beginnings. I've written about my Dad and how he came to the US, his struggles and how much he has achieved. Mami is right there in step with Papi. She is a wiz at playing jacks. Man, she can whip anyone with that crazy bouncy ball and those metallic pinwheel-looking stars. Her hand-eye coordination is of gold-medal-Olympic worthiness. And you should see her playing with her sisters! I can close my eyes and picture pigtailed girls with thin cotton dresses, kneeling on the asphalt, shrieking as the ball bounces and a jack is dropped by mistake. I have a new year's resolution this year to learn how to play jacks well enough to beat my mom. I tried to play with her over the holidays, but I was no match to the Jacks Champion of the Universe. So I warned her that next time I came home to visit, to be prepared to meet her match. I figured after all, I have so many of her genes, surely the jacks gene is in there somewhere. I wonder where I can buy jacks?

My mom shared some of her childhood memories with me during my holiday visit. I want to learn so much of my parents' history while I still can. I have so many vivid memories from my childhood and I cherish them. I know they do as well - but not all of their childhood memories are pleasant. Fina came from very humble beginnings. She was child number 6 out of 11. Her family was very poor - mother was illiterate, father a simple, but religious man. She wasn't enrolled in school until she was 9 years old. But once there, she was a star student - skipping grades and graduating at the top of her class. She was named "Queen" of her barrio three times, the Barrio de Hoyamala, which translates to "Bad Pot". Go figure. Each time she was named queen, her brother would buy some fabric from town, cut out a dress using her old dress as a pattern, and sew it for her, just so she would have something new to wear during the parade. She told me during my last visit that she would often go to bed hungry, and sometimes her older brother Raul would bring back a bag of peanuts from the festivals held in town. She and her younger brother, Pello, would ravenously eat the peanut shells first and then eat the peanuts - that would be their dinner.

Mami's home had no running water or electricity. Her older sister and mother cooked from a coal stove, for which they have paid a high price. My grandmother died of emphysema due to her smoking and cooking with coal. My aunt has major respiratory problems because of that stove. Thankfully my mom's exposure was limited, so her lungs are healthy. Mami's idiosyncrasies resonate from her humble beginnings. She washes Ziploc bags and reuses them over and over. She makes lots of food and freezes it for later. She's frugal but generous; a paradox of childhood poverty mixed in with current comfort and abundance.

And she feeds. Boy, can she feed. No one escapes from her home without a meal, or at least a glass of real fruit juice. Tamarind, passion fruit, orange, grapefruit, güanabana. Name it, she's juiced it. Her neighbor's grandchildren will yell from across the street, "Fina! Do you have cookies?" And they'll beg to come over so they can get their cookies. During the hurricanes of 2005, when the state of Florida was hit 3 times, she turned on her propane stove in the garage and fixed fish, rice and beans for all the neighbors. Whenever I visit, I know now to bring a cooler, because I come back loaded with arroz con gandules (rice & pigeon peas), pasteles (Puerto Rican tamales, kind of), frozen tamarind juice, yame... Mami offers visitors food because that's how she shows her love and hospitality. Cooking is something she does well, and she wants to share a little of herself with you. She's insistent too. I call her a food pusher, but in reality I'm turning into one myself. Friends that come to my house rarely leave empty-handed. I've turned into my mother!

I'm proud of Mami. She's worked 10 years-plus as a "Lunch Lady" at a local elementary school. She walks to school every day, sometimes sporting an umbrella to shield her from the brutal Florida sun. Little kids who live near her route have called her "Mary Poppins". She cooks everyday, prepares lunches and dinner for my dad. He's healthy and strong because of her 38 years of vegetarian home cooking. And she's adamant he eats healthy too.

So, yes, I hope I do turn out like my mom in a lot of ways. She's far from perfect. But she laughs, reads, exercises, cooks, and enjoys taking care of others. And I hope she enjoys many more milestone birthdays, with good health, a happy spirit, and a sound mind.