Mama tell your children

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In Those Days, I loved to sit on my Grandpa's lap and listen to him sing.  Sounds weird, huh.  One would never know by my voice that my Grandpa-D, after surviving the stress of Ellis Island, sang in the Italian Opera in New Yorr City.  But more than that, I was fascinated by his life's experiences.  I remember most of them to this day and occasionally reflect back on them when I find myself in a similar situation. 

We were a proud family that never wanted to be the center of any one's attention, but then again we were taught how to never be left behind.  Mama's constant lectures about wearing clean socks or the necessity of chewing with our mouth closed ring through my mind most every day.  And I listened to them being told again to all of my younger siblings.  It was as if someone told them to her long before my time.

Never did I hear a word about their struggling finances, but it was rather apparent to me as I grew older.  Often I would notice that we would each get a pair of shoes for Easter Sunday, while Mom wore that same old dress which I think she made.  I valued every lecture and every story, although some I had a difficult time believing.  I can see the impact they had on me to this very day.  They kept me proud and honest, hard working and humorous, sarcastic and cynical, and brave, strong and compassionate. 

And when it came time, I passed the stories from my Grandpa, my Papa, and those of my own to my children.  And to make a special point, I even made some up while exaggerating others just as they had done to me.  Every story had a lesson and every one had a moral. 

Sometimes today, I wonder whether parents are passing along similar tales to their kids.  Or would the kids today even care to listen.  Somehow my gut says they are not, and their children, so spoiled, do not care.

So live your life in Sin and Misery in this House of the Rising Scum and don't tell your children what they have done.
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